A desolate sky, newly bereft of light, loomed over a gaping wound in the land.

Saltwater rushed in to fill the crater in a cacophonous roil, held at bay only by a sinful power invisible to the naked eye. That power emanated from a being that had no right to exist, its dreadful form composed of dark heretical mist, pulled loosely into a shape that resembled a mockery of animalkind. Rueful eyes like smouldering onyx bore holes into the four heroes who dared to confront it.

It was a being that represented the culmination of all animalkind’s sin, a terrifying melange of atrocities and despicable affronts to the creator.

They called it Amalgamate. They called it The Final Sin.

Jubei’s hand strained against the handle of his ornate blade. He had to hold on tightly, or the tremors would betray his fear. That would be unacceptable — he was a leader. He matched the creature’s gaze with a heavy brow, unable to look away.

“We must formulate a new plan, my friends,” spoke Feng Li, the regal serpent’s talismans straining to keep the group stable upon the trembling ground, “but I fear there is little time for discretion, better part of valour it may be!”

“I’ll keep this barrier up until the last breath leaves my body!” Replied Allegra through gritted teeth, the staff she clung onto for dear life dug into the pallid ground. A mighty translucent barrier projected forth from the crystal at its head, deflecting the flurry of flying debris that threatened to crush the heroes. “So think of something — quickly!”

Just above the group, a slight chinchilla hovered in mid-air, robes billowing as they struggled to maintain their upright position amidst powerful ragged winds. With a desperate cry, they unleashed a thunderous volley of crackling arcane power at the foe, but it was for naught. It dissipated harmlessly upon the creature’s form just as a light rainfall may dissipate upon the loam. Expended, they plummeted to the ground, impact cushioned by the magic of Feng Li’s talismans.

“Well… there you have it,” panted Salem from their position on the floor, “there’s nothing more to think about, birdbrain! That abomination is nigh-invincible!” Salem’s magical might was awe-inspiring, no doubt; the sight of them above the battlefield wracking foes with sorcerous blasts and weaving deceitful illusions inspired both wonderment and fear. To see such power reduced to little more than a party trick made Jubei’s blood run cold.

Over their many years together as a group, they had uncovered the secrets of ancient ruins, slain terrible monsters that could topple cities, and even had audiences with deities. Never before had they stood face to face with something as terrifying as this, a presence so blasphemous that it had even routed The Sun from His sky.

“We should retreat, and—“

“No, Salem!” Allegra yelled, eyes clenched shut. “We must head the beast off here, unless you’d prefer for everything The Sun shines on to be—”

“Shone on, you mean?” The chinchilla sniped, staggering to their feet. “Forget it! Didn’t you see what just happened?! My magic has felled aspects, Allegra, and this ‘beast’ just shrugged it off as though I’d sprayed it with a water hose!”

“If… if we humbly beseech The Sun for aid—“

“The Sun is gone! I am not going to die here to satisfy your blind faith! If we leave, we can research another way to—“

Suddenly, a violent wave of force slammed into the group. The sound of exertion Feng Li made was deep, desperate, and guttural, and the sanctuary provided by his talismans began to wane. “I- I can’t hold this much longer, my friends!”

Another wave of force, and this time, a yelp of pain. Jubei swung his head to the side, eyes wild, just in time to see his beloved straining to maintain the flickering barrier. Allegra’s once-pristine wings were besmirched from being pelted by dirt and sediment, and the expression she wore was twisted by despair. Deep crimson stained her vestments. In that moment, when all seemed lost, something dawned on Jubei. Even in the presence of The Final Sin, there were things that could seize his heart and make his blood run far colder. There were things that warranted defying all odds in order to protect, no matter the cost.

Jubei felt a kindling in his heart, and in that moment, the chains of fear and hesitation that shackled him were broken. Jubei was a hero, as were his allies — no, his friends. He stepped forward, away from the safety of shield and talisman, and held his sword aloft. His hand did not waver.

“We will make a miracle of our own,” he declared, clear and true amidst the roiling dark, “for although The Sun has departed, we shall still find guidance in the light.”

And the voice of The Final Sin resounded in response, each word a pale curse. “The Sun is not your salvation.”

[https://i.imgur.com/j6ZLfDr.png]

A fox of small stature sat with her back to tall, arching windows, each one frosted with the touch of a long winter. With her nose buried in her favourite tome, she was bathed in the wistful orange hues of a sky still mourning its greatest loss. After all those years, it was a time of day that was still called ‘sunset’, even without its namesake deity presiding over the land.

“Reading that story again, are we, my lady?”

Tomoe was startled out of her reverie, so engrossed in the tale that she’d forgotten where she was. The palace library was a warm and cosy place, lit softly by candle light, neat and with each book in its rightful place… unless the fennec had recently had her paws on it. It starkly contrasted the snow-laden cityscape visible beyond the glass panes. For as much as the view of Namitori’s low skyline held its own appeal, adorned with its dusk-lit paper lanterns and colourful bunting, Tomoe had never considered it a match for the royal library that had accompanied her on so many journeys from index to glossary.

“Yup!” She looked up at the maid with an earnest smile. “I never get tired of it.”

The fennec had read the tales of the legendary Four Heroes countless times, along with many other stories about daring adventurers doing battle with diabolical monsters, be they grounded in fact or woven out of pure imagination. Knowing that the deeds of Jubei and his allies were real made those stories all the more compelling to Tomoe. So when she put the book down, she didn’t need to dog-ear the page — she already knew what happened. She could probably recount just about all of their exploits from memory!

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“Ah, but Attendant Asahi bade you study mathematics today, did he not?” The maid said, her tone sympathetic despite the implication of a gentle scolding.

“He did, but…” Tomoe momentarily grappled with trying to find a believable justification for slacking off, but ultimately, all she could offer was a sheepish grin. “… I just didn’t get around to it?”

“Well, it’s far from my place to tell you how to spend your time, my lady,” the maid started, taking the book from the table, “Attendant Asahi, however, may think differently. He sent me here to fetch you for dinner.”

Tomoe grimaced at the thought of another evening sitting down to eat in the presence of that stodgy old fox who she swore had only gotten stodgier as the days passed, but the previously unnoticed rumbling in her stomach wasn’t something she could ignore. “Well, the Great Phoenix always taught us not to ignore what the body wants!” Spurred on by this sudden hunger, she got to her feet. “Thanks for letting me know, miss, uh…”

“Lisette, my lady, but there’s no need to give me thanks. It’s my duty to serve you and your family,” Came the maid’s humble response as she gathered the unruly stacks of tomes into her arms.

“Right. Lisette. I’ll remember that!” Tomoe replied warmly. “I’m off to dinner, then. Have a good evening, Lisette!”

Lisette nodded meekly, and the fennec turned to leave.

“Oh, and, my lady?”

“Yeah?”

“I have every confidence you will prosper into a maiden as fair as Saint Spreadwing, one day soon.”

Tomoe gave an appreciative nod as she made her exit.

Lisette’s words were well-meaning, but when Tomoe read those tales, it was never Saint Spreadwing she idolised. The saint was gentle and brave, a healer of the sick and protector of the vulnerable, and Tomoe admired that. All the same, the young fox’s real dream was to be like Jubei Suzaku. She wanted to be the one who boldly led her stalwart allies to lands hitherto unseen, sword held high and ready to save the innocent from all manner of terrifying monsters!

She wanted to be a hero.

And besides — Jubei was her ancestor. They were both descended from the Great Phoenix, and if he was a mighty hero, it made sense that she could be as well! The empyrean blood running through her promised a prosperous destiny, just like his… right?

Ruminating, Tomoe traipsed through the same old palace hallways, past the same old paintings, tapesteries and vases of flowers, past the same familiar servants and maids, all to reach the same old dining room she ate in almost every day. Asahi was already standing in waiting next to the place set for her at the same old long table, the hearth roaring and the heavy curtains drawn over dark windows.

Truthfully, she wasn’t sure why the table was so long, given that nobody but her seemed to eat at it. The tall old fox noticed the frown etched into her brow immediately.

“What troubles you, Tomoe?” Asahi pried.

The fennec hummed innocently, not at all taken aback by the question. She’d long known that it was impossible to hide things from Asahi. His sly features were a match for his shrewd attitude, and she vaguely expected such an attitude from a man whose background was in the appraisal of fine art and other precious things. Tomoe had always thought that the way he held his hands behind his back made it hard to intuit how he felt about anything, but that may have been because she was always fidgeting and couldn't fathom doing the same.

“I don’t know what you mean, Asahi!”

“Mm... I’ll take your word for it.” He wasn’t convinced, of course. Still, he pulled out the cushioned chair, which she sat on with aplomb, eager to dig in... but then she saw it.

The sparkeel!

“Eugh! Again? Spinach, too…?” She looked up at the man with a pleading expression. “Did you make this just to spite me?”

“I’m far from a good enough cook to prepare that dish,” Asahi said with a thin smile, “your father’s royal chef made it, as per usual. No spite involved, I assure you.”

“But I hate sparkeel… especially when it’s jellied.” Picking up her chopsticks, she scrutinized the contents of her bowl, her prodding and prying destroying the chef’s delicate presentation. At least some of it was edible by her estimation, like the thick rice noodles and the generous slices of boiled egg.

“Lady Tomoe, you must abandon such childish preferences,” Asahi scolded, looking down at her through narrowed eyes. “Once you take your father’s place, you will have to eat a great deal of cuisine you aren’t accustomed to when dining with envoys from far off lands.”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that,” Tomoe grumbled, finally taking a mouthful of noodles. Who was he to act so high and mighty, anyway? She doubted he enjoyed sparkeel. In fact, she doubted anyone enjoyed it as much as they said they did. She suspected there was a widespread conspiracy to pretend to enjoy it in order to seem dignified and respectable. “It just seems like every meal for the past week has been sparkeel.”

“The recent spate of elemental attacks has taken a toll on our coastal fisheries, so we have had to rely primarily on freshwater fish,” Asahi explained, finally releasing one of his hands from behind his back to take a document from his sleeve. “For as long as seawater keeps walking onto land to drown our fishermen, and the earth keeps rising up to destroy our farms, I’d expect to be eating a great deal of sparkeel.”

“Ah… right.”

A slice of egg idly flopped between chopsticks as guilt bubbled up in Tomoe's chest. She’d heard about the ‘elemental unrest’, as they called it, but she’d never seen it firsthand until just a few weeks ago when a wave of beings woven from earth and fire had crashed against Namitori’s walls. The city’s defenders put up a valiant fight and repelled the threat, but the outer limits had suffered severe damage, and many good people were lost.

It didn’t make the sparkeel seem more appetizing, but it certainly dampened her desire to complain about it. Resting her head on her hand as she picked at her food, an ear perked to attention. “I wonder where Phee wandered off to, anyway?”

Asahi’s exasperation was audible. “Tomoe, I must say, if you insist on keeping a fire spirit around, you would do well to keep an eye on it lest the palace be burned to the ground!”

“I can’t help it if he’s adventurous!” She shot back with the sort of nonchalant shrug that only the sole heir to an ancient dynasty could get away with. “He must’ve wandered off while I was in the library…”

“Never mind that some may argue the issue of continuing to keep such a pet with recent events in mind.” Asahi raised a hand to his temple, rubbing in slow, circular motions. “A dilemma to ponder another day. I’ve other matters to attend to, so I'm going to leave you to finish your meal. Once you’re done, you have the evening to yourself… though I recommend using some of it to track down your errant fire starter.”

“Yeeees, Asahi,” Tomoe droned.

“Very well, then… and don’t leave your sparkeel to rot, or I may have to inform Lord Fumito, am I clear?”

“Clearer than crystal.”

Asahi knew she was lying through her teeth, and she knew that he knew. “Oh, and remember! Do not wander far, and do not stay out late, lest the Burning Plume be dispatched on another avoidable manhunt!”

“I get it, I get it!” She huffed.

With a curt nod, he took his leave — no doubt he was off to discuss boring political matters. Every time Asahi had invited her along to sit in when the royal court of advisers convened, she had come up with some excuse about how she had to attend sword practice, or had already arranged for additional studies in the library. On some admittedly rare occasions, she had accepted the offer and earnestly tried to pay attention, but invariably switched off and started fidgeting as they went on about ‘grain shortages’ this and ‘royal treasury’ that. Without fail, she’d be excused for being a nuisance.

Tomoe had long theorized that despite the attendant’s ominous threats of reporting her behaviour to her father, he always gave far more glowing reports than she deserved. After all, it was a little suspicious how her father didn’t scold her on the scant few occasions that they could spend any time together. They endured the quiet instead, or talked shortly about the changing of the seasons. No word of Asahi's complaints.

Left to her own devices, Tomoe scarfed down the rest of her meal, including — against her greater desires — the awfully slimy portion of jellied sparkeel. Chasing it down with a hefty glug of cool tea, she was up and out of the door the moment her chopsticks hit the empty bowl.

She had a fire spirit to find!