It’s full dark. The only light is cast by the moon filtering through the leaves and branches above us and the torch I’m holding. Butterflies are fluttering in my stomach and my mouth is going dry. This is it: the big one. The one I’ve been waiting and preparing for since returning from this area in the first place. And there’s so much that could go wrong.

Soft feathers brush past me on one side and soft fur on the other. I send appreciation down the Bonds to Bastet and Lathani for their non-verbal support. Lathani has been surprisingly well-behaved over the last couple of days – I’ve barely even noticed she’s been present. She’s been walking with me but I’ve hardly seen her. I’m wondering if she has some sort of innate stealth abilities because she seems to just…vanish. From sight and mind.

Then I realise that I’m trying to divert my mind away from the task at hand and quickly return my thoughts to it.

We’re quickly approaching the tree line. By we, I unfortunately am not including River. He’s currently back at the camp with the majority of my Bound, though he won’t be staying there for long. Instead, he and most of the samurans will soon set off to circle the edge of the vine-stranglers and try to get back to their village before it’s completely cut off.

Right now, they are resting for a bit in preparation since once they get going, they won’t be stopping until they’re back at the village. It will be a hard slog, but while samurans aren’t necessarily the fastest of my Bound, they’re certainly able to endure; I’ve seen that much from how they can travel a whole day and then create a camp in less than an hour. Not to mention from Catch’s capacity to survive.

Going with River are all the Unevolved samurans from the hunting party, Joy the Pathwalker, and two of the Warriors. Wary of betrayal, we still decided that Lee should go with the party as his word will hold the most weight with the other Warriors back at the village. Though this also means he’s the most potentially dangerous one to send with the group, hopefully my focus on giving River as much control of the Bonds as I have will mean that he’s able to stop Lee in his tracks if he tries anything.

I’ve kept two of the Warriors: Murmur who seems to be the strong but silent type, though I’ve noticed that even Lee and Joy listen when he does decide to say something; and Iandee, who is the absolute opposite, nattering on about all and sundry. I’m actually tuning out what he’s saying now – some sort of story about the last time he saw the Forest of Death.

Since Bastet is already occupied with her five, I’ve put the two Warriors under the control of Catch: though I haven’t known him for much longer than I’ve known them, I’m almost certain that he’s not likely to betray me. Not after how he committed himself to me.

Finally, Fenrir is back at the camp with the rest of the group, the ones who are neither quick nor would offer me much protection if something tries to attack me while I’m concentrating on the fire. That would not be good. I would rather have one of my Tier two Bound with that group, but the kiinas aren’t here so I’ve got to hope that Fenrir’s up to it.

We stop.

We’re here.

The closest vine-strangler sits just a couple of metres in front of me. Its branches shift slightly, ominous creaking coming from wood rubbing against wood. The last one only started stabbing at us when we were trapped within its cage, but that doesn’t mean this one is willing to wait that long.

“Be prepared for if it attacks us,” I warn my followers. “Don’t focus on destroying the wooden spears; just focus on deflecting them.” Agreement and acknowledgement comes in various forms from all those surrounding me.

I can already see other baby vine-stranglers pushing their way out of the ground. In the time it takes me to look from the sapling to the fully grown tree, I’m sure that the sapling puts on a few more centimetres. Then again, given as much ground as they’ve covered in the last four weeks, I shouldn’t be surprised that they’re literally growing before my eyes.

But now is not the time for distraction. I close my eyes and drop as deeply into Light Meditation as I can. My body feels slightly disconnected from me, the nervous chemicals rushing through my bloodstream having minimal effect on my thoughts now. It’s almost into Medium Meditation but I do maintain some connection to the external.

With my vision of connections, I see the vine-strangler forest once more. As I once thought, there is so much more here than I could see before. The trees are connected inextricably to each other and to everything around. The ground, yes, but also the air. They’re even feeding off the Energy of everything that lives within their domain – parasites, or perhaps symbiotes since they do offer a certain degree of refuge to those they don’t try to kill.

As I gaze at the trees, I realise something else: what I thought was a forest of trees isn’t that at all. It’s a single, vast organism. Like that massive fungi network which stretches across most of North America, except this one is populating every inch with its own roots and its own saplings. If I’m going to succeed here, I’m going to have to burn it out underground just as much as I burn it overground.

However, one thought does occur. If it’s a single organism, can I convince it to back off? To absorb its own trees and give up the ground it’s taken? It’s proven itself able to recognise a threat in the salamander and be able to shift its limbs to force us to face the fire-using creature when we travelled through the forest last time.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

In a last ditch attempt to resolve this a different way, I reach out to the network of connections. I send it impressions of my thoughts, the desire not to create conflict where conflict is not necessary, the fire that I can bring to bear if it does not yield.

For a long moment it is silent. I think that perhaps it hasn’t heard me; that I am too small for it to take notice. Then it responds, and its answer makes me clench my jaw in anger.

Contempt.

It does not believe a little creature like me could do anything. It sees me as another salamander – annoying, but not ultimately damaging. Well, if that’s how you want to play it, then fine by me, I send back to it, not really caring whether it hears me or not.

My anger making the butterflies vanish, I send a good ball of mana down my connection and make it pool in my palm at the end of my bent finger. Setting light to it, I focus on the fire not hurting my hand: I’ve managed to do that much.

Then, moving my hand, I touch the top of the baby vine-strangler with the ball. It immediately bursts into flames and we all have to take a step back from the heat. Focussing on the fire, I have it burn hotly and thoroughly consume the wood, producing little smoke.

The tree burns to the ground quickly – it started off only reaching my waist anyway. The fire descends down the trunk like it’s burning a stick of incense, only ash remaining. Then it reaches the ground and starts licking at the dead branches and leaves lying around the base of the tree.

With an effort, I control the fire and send it down into the ground. It doesn’t like that. The ground is slightly damp and has no oxygen within it. But this isn’t just an ordinary fire: it’s a fire connected to me – and my mana. As it turns out, magic can replace any of the elements of the fire-triangle, or all of them.

Though it consumes more mana than I’d like, the fire follows the tracery of roots through the underground world, burning out the organism’s foothold in this area. Under my guidance, it follows them back to the body of the vine-strangler network and three trees start smouldering at their base.

It’s harder to keep my focus on all three fires at once. My attention jumps from one to the other, fanning the flames, encouraging them to burn. The vine-stranglers writhe, and the closest starts sending spears at us. Bastet takes on the first, demonstrating exactly what to do to the rest.

I’m not able to pay much attention to them, but I see it when the lizard-folk start joining in, as do Lathani and Wolverine. The rest of Bastet’s group probably aren’t suited to the activity so I imagine they remain watching for attacks from other creatures instead. But I dare not look away from the fires to check.

The fire is starting to take a hold. It’s burning brighter and hotter by itself, little mana needed from me to do so. It still needs encouragement and support in entering the underground root network, but it’s happy and eager to consume the flammable wood above ground.

Too eager, perhaps: the fire consuming a branch ends up crossing the distance to another tree, setting light to that one too. While trying to wrestle back control of the fire in that area, I take my eye off another of the trees. When I next look back at it, I see that that one has set two other fires ablaze!

Fear creeps into my belly and I step forward almost unconsciously, desperately trying to grab control of the fire which I have created, the fire which threatens to rage throughout the forest without my hand on the reins.

But every attempt of mine to bring it back under control only sees it slipping further. It’s like a child, gleefully playing keepaway, darting around the other side of the table every time I try to grab it.

Five trees turns into seven, into ten. They are incredibly vulnerable to fire and the flames I have created take full advantage of that. Even the air around me is changing, a breeze being caused by the hungry fire sucking in more and more oxygen to feed its growth.

My forehead is sweaty, my skin clammy despite the heat. My eyes are wide in horror as I imagine the fire raging into an inferno, animals trapped within the flames, River cooking in his scales, Bastet, Lathani, Fenrir…all of them being unable to escape, as close to the fire as they are now.

No.

No!

I take a step back – mentally rather than literally – and pull on the peace of Meditation to calm my mind and my emotions. Fear makes people act stupidly, and right now, I’m panicking.

Breathing deeply, I reach out to the fire.

It hasn’t escaped my control; it’s just being like an excitable child. Or no, perhaps part of the issue is my imagery.

Likening it to a child makes it other. If I was using Fire-Taming, perhaps that would be useful. But I’m not – I’m using Fire-Shaping. This fire is not other, it is a part of me.

In that state of calm meditation, I find myself managing to grasp the same thoughts which I experienced once before, only this time I am in control of them.

The fire is my mana, my mana is the fire. It came from me, and it is mine. Much as my armour is me, and my undershirt is me. They are filled with my mana and they are mine. I do not fear that my armour will fail to stand between me and an attack; I do not imagine that my boots will walk off without me. Nor that my undershirt will constrict me in my sleep.

Why then do I fear my fire?

It’s like an epiphany hits me. The hours of staring into the heart of the fire, of interacting with it, exploring it, using it, playing with it, admiring it, they all merge into one understanding.

I breathe in and the fire sucks in oxygen. I exhale and the fire grows. I feel each flicker of flame as if they are hairs on my body.

Almost in a trance, I step forwards, into the fire. I keep walking until I’m at the heart of the flames immolating the trees.

I feel the heat; it does not burn me.