Needless to say, the Bennets were quickly forgotten.

Harold takes Harrison’s seat on the log facing the fire. Ellie is sitting on Aurthur’s lap; Alliyah has a hand around his back, and the eager girl squeezes her other hand tightly.

Harold turns to me and speaks softly. His voice is deeper than his slight figure would suggest.

Fireside Storyteller – Level 24

“Could you fill this for me, dear?" He holds out a tall wooden mug with a grey metal banding. I nod and rise from my seat. My meal lay forgotten on the ground.

“There’s wine in the kitchen,” Arthur says as I pass him.

I fill the mug from a tall bottle of dark wine. I wonder what story we’ll hear. Back home, the occasional storyteller will find their way to the Sunset Inn. Crowds will gather at the windows just to listen to the edge of a fable. These are often heroic tales of adventurers and the dungeon-born monsters that plague our world. None of the storytellers are green-ranked in their profession, though. This is going to be a treat.

Then, at every harvest festival, there is a play. The actors are all young farmers who’ve been practicing their roles in their sparse free time. These are more profound stories, tragedies, and love ballads, with the occasional comedy sprinkled in. They are incredibly fun, full of small mistakes and missed lines, and the crowd is forgiving and adoring. I’ll make it back in time for the show this year. Dad and I will watch it together.

I return to the firepit and hand Harold his mug. He smiles and takes it with his left, holding out his right for me to shake.

“I’m Harold,” he says softly.

"Noelle," I respond.

“Thanks for the wine, Noelle. Can’t have a story without wine, wouldn’t be right.” He winks at me and turns to the fire.

Suddenly, there is a shift, a pivot in the world. When Harold arrived, he was a stranger at our campsite, an unfamiliar face among familiar faces. Now, we are at his fire. This is his home, his hearth. We are guests in this place. The fire grows.

“What will we hear tonight?" Harold asks us.

Nobody speaks up at first. Even Ellie sits quietly; we all want to hear a story that we haven't heard before. You can't request something you don't know. An unexpected voice speaks up.

“The Middle Child," Alliyah says. Her voice is soft and almost reluctant, but it carries clearly in this bubble that Harold has created.

“You’re sure?” He asks, looking to both Alliyah and Harold for confirmation.

"She is old enough to hear it. I was younger," Arthur says, agreeing with his wife. He turns to Ellie and speaks only to her. "If at any point you are frightened, look away from the fire and listen. If even that is too much, just let us know, and we’ll all go inside. Okay?" His voice is gentle.

She nods. There is a hint of fear in her eyes at her parents' worry, but she is full of the bright confidence of youth.

“I can handle it!” she says firmly.

“Very well then, an old story, and a rare one, I think,” Harold continues. “I learned it in the Capital City, in the throne room with the King. My teacher told it well, and I'm honored to share it with you now. Many stories are full of embellishment; this one is simple and honest, and the broad strokes are true beyond a doubt. But nobody knows what occurred in that Crucible except for the Keeper.”

"Most of you know my skill well. Noelle, this may be new to you. If you look to the fire, you can see the story play out in the flames. If you choose, you may look away and hear the story without experiencing it. The choice is yours."

He holds both hands out in front of him, palms down, then raises them above his head. The flames grow tall, and the tongues of fire elongate and shift, throwing shadows around our circle. I watch them dance and pull together, then apart. There are figures, darkness against the brightness. Three children, their shapes solidify, and details become apparent, then Harold’s voice is there again, and the story begins.

----------------------------------------

Once, long ago, when our three kingdoms were one, there were three children, brothers. Grandchildren of the Empress. The eldest was Rafe, the middle child was Ube and the youngest was Prete. The three were close and enjoyed playing together in the fields around their home.

The three kids play with narrow sticks in a field. They laugh and run. The youngest flees the eldest until he is caught and lifted onto his shoulders. The middle child, Ube, shouts a challenge and swings his make-believe sword at the youngest, Prete. They spar playfully, Prete is huge on the shoulders of his oldest brother, Rafe, and Ube is careful to let the youngest have the upper hand. With one errant swing from Prete, Ube falls dramatically, throwing his arms into the air as he crumbles. Rafe lets the young one down, and Prete jumps on the prone Ube.

They grew into impressive young men, each with their own strengths. Rafe was a natural swordsman. He could best three men at once before he could grow a beard.

Rafe twists and turns, one sword in each hand, as his slender figure holds off three barrel-chested men. Their superior strength is apparent, but Rafe moves precisely, dodging blows by a hair and using his blades to shift strikes off their previous course. Soon, the three aggressors are laid out on the ground, blood pooling.

Ube learned magic and could call on the elements to devastating effect.

Wicked demons pour from the earth. They stumble over each other towards the lone Ube. His robes dance around him as he sends lightning and fire to burn the creatures, each in equal measure. They keep coming, but he doesn't tire; soon, he’s alone, walking to the source of the demons without a scratch on him.

Prete was a gifted beast tamer. He could calmly face a raging bull and turn it to a friend.

Prete calms a frightened drake. His slender form is dressed in ordinary clothes. He reaches out to it, its teeth as big as the boy’s forearm. But he shows no fear and climbs its scaled hide to sit on its shoulders. It calms as he pats its side. Then he nods, and the drake throws itself off the cliff, snapping its wings open and swooping into the distance.

These three brought pride to their families through their deeds and strength of character. One day, word of their outstanding accomplishments reached the Empress, their grandmother, whom they had never met. And they were called into her chambers.

The three brothers stand opposite the throne. Rafe, the eldest, wears thick armor and carries two swords at his hip. The middle child, Ube, wears a tattered cloak that constantly shifts. And Prete wears simple woolen clothes and carries a young firebird on his shoulder, his familiar. The Queen stands. Her shoulders are hunched, and her gait is stunted. She takes each step one at a time.

The Empress told the young men that her time on the throne was nearing its end. Soon, someone else would rule these lands. One of them.

The boys look at each other, surprise on their faces.

The thought that they might inherit the throne had never entered their minds. Their grandmother was old, yes. But she had been old when their parents were born.

The Empress stands in front of each of them one by one, pressing on their shoulders and looking at their hands, speaking to them all.

You know how I came upon this throne? I conquered the Crucible.

She turns and walks back to the throne. Suddenly, she is young and standing atop a fiery pile of broken bodies, screaming into the sky, her voice shredding the air. Then they are back in the throne room, and she is facing them.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

You must be strong to lead. You have all started down separate paths to power but are not strong enough. The Crucible will harden you if you survive it.

She nods to one of the guards, and three small chests are brought before them. Rafe pulls a dark sword from his chest; it seems to swallow the light.

The Void Sword. No armor can stand between this blade and the enemy.

Ube pulls a cloak with a similar darkness along its length. He throws it across his shoulders and seems to disappear for a moment.

The Void Cloak. You will not be seen if you do not wish to be seen.

Prete pulls a simple dark collar from the final chest. He looks at it and then to his familiar, a question on his face.

The Void Tether. With this, you can control any beast, no matter its strength, if you can seal the collar around its throat.

The three brothers look at each other and then at her, the same question on their lips.

What if we all survive? Who will be King then?

The Queen's laughter rings loudly; there is a hint of malice in its chittering sound.

If you all survive, you will rule as a council together. Though I wouldn't anticipate it, only a handful have survived this Crucible, and its Keeper is not kind. Nobody has returned since I did, and many have tried.

The three young men bow their heads; they stand and walk out of the room.

They prepared themselves and journeyed to the Talor Crucible together. They stood in front of the entrance and stepped into the unknown.

The three stand alone in a cave, their new gifts affixed to them. Rafe has the Void Sword on one hip and a standard blade on the other. Ube’s cloak is dark and ominous. It sways around his ankles. Prete looks unchanged, but for the collar at his belt, his familiar still rests on his shoulder. The dungeon entrance looks like a mirror. They are looking at a reflection of themselves. Then, they step forward.

They were greeted, on arrival, by the draconic Keeper of the Crucible.

They stand before a red dragon, who towers over them. The creature is so enormous that they can only see its face. The dragon's voice rumbles and shifts like stones grating together.

Ahhh who is this? Challengers? Oh, Brothers, Eh? I so rarely get the chance to kill siblings.

They stood bravely before the Keeper and learned of the challenge to come. They would be attacked on all fronts, wave after wave of enemies. If they survived, they would be free to return to their world. If they died, then their bodies would stay there. Property of the Keeper.

They are on an island surrounded by fire. Demons rise from the flames and approach them from all directions. Their skin is layered with black scales; their claws gouge the earth as they approach. They move with coordinated efficiency. And when they attack, they move like panthers.

The brothers fought together from day to night, then day again. Their teamwork grew as the threat of death became more and more tangible. But over time, their injuries accrued. Their blood puddled around them as they held their ground again and again.

The demons are growing, coming in fewer numbers, but they are more robust, and the heroes start to bleed. Minor cuts and scrapes at first, but they are beginning to slow. Another creature rises from the flames, larger than the others. It moves deliberately, a vast alien intelligence hidden behind its eyes.

The final challenger arrived. It was a beast stronger than any they had faced before. Not only bigger and faster but more cunning. While Rafe dispatched the last creature from the previous wave, the archdemon advanced on Ube. It would tear him limb from limb. Ube was terrified and froze as the beast roared and charged him. Prete ran to his aid.

Ube is frozen to the spot, unable to escape. Prete and his flaming familiar rush to his aid. He shouts at Ube to defend himself, to strike the demon with fire or lightning. Ube turns when he sees Prete, the paralysis broken, but he doesn't fight. He uses his cloak’s ability and vanishes from sight, leaving Prete alone to face down the charge. In one blow, he is split in twain. His hips are separated from his torso, and he lands on the ground connected only by intestine.

Ube fled in terror, leaving Prete to take the blow meant for him. Rafe watched it all from a distance, trying to close the gap so he could help. But it was too late. Little Prete was dead. Prete’s familiar landed on his bloody shoulder and pecked gently at him, trying to wake its master. But there was nobody there to wake up. His spirit was gone.

Rafe screams, blood flecks flying from his mouth as he falls to his knees. He has fought enough to know death when he sees it. There is no coming back from that. Prete’s firebird familiar screeches mournfully and flies away into the darkness. Ube is standing near his brother's corpse, looking down. His eyes are vacant. He looks up to Rafe.

Their little brother was gone. It was their job to protect him, to keep him safe. The demon was relishing their pain. The beast simply sat back and watched as Rafe charged his brother, filled with anger and grief at the loss of Prete.

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!

There is a bright mania in Rafe's eyes; the whites are showing clearly around his irises. Tears and snot are running down his face unimpeded. He wields both blades hectically, swinging to kill with each blow. Ube seems frozen again, looking in shock at Rafe with no expression.

Rafe slashed at Ube, intending to kill him for his cowardice. But Ube simply disappears. The archdemon is content to watch their despair. It basks in the feeling. Rafe tries to track. He looks for footprints in the dirt.

Rafe is walking all over, searching for any sign of Ube. There is a quick movement over by Prete's corpse, then a slight change in the monster's demeanor. No longer licking its claws and giggling like a schoolgirl. Now, it sits upright, focused.

I'm sorry, brother. I didn't mean to cause his death.

Ube appears suddenly beside his brother’s corpse. He looks down, and a handful of emotions suddenly cross his face. Fear, anger, and sorrow warring across his features.

I was frightened. I didn't want to die like that. But I didn't want him to die either. Can you forgive me, Rafe?

Rafe’s face is a broken mask, his world shattered by losing his brother. His target has returned, the one person he could blame for their failure.

Rafe was past the point of forgiveness. While all three brothers had always been close, Rafe and Prete had an incredibly tight bond. The loss of Rafe’s baby brother cracked his mind; his rage, which should have been directed at the demon, was instead aimed at Ube.

He is sprinting full force at Ube, bleeding from minor wounds all over and cognizant of none of them. He raises both blades, screaming.

COWARD. You don’t deserve to be rewarded for this! A KINGDOM? Not for you.

He charged his younger brother, using all his skills to land the strike before he could dodge.

Ube takes a single step, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture.

Brother, please, don't do thi—

There is a warning in his tone and a movement in the corner of the room where the beast resides.

YOU ARE NOT MY BROTHER!

The demon appeared at this moment, standing between the two but facing Rafe. Rafe looked up and saw a collar around the neck of the monster. The Void Tether. It’s the last thing he ever saw.

I warned you.

The black-scaled monstrosity raises a foot, and Rafe's trajectory will take him under it. At the last moment, he tries to change course. It is too late.

The archdemon stomped on Rafe. His corpse was crushed instantly.

His bones splinter as his body is turned to paste by the same creature who killed Prete. The monster lifts the foot and scrapes the flattened young man off with an idle claw.

The demon sat nearby, a faithful servant to his new master, the future King of the Broken Lands. Ube Kinkiller.

I warned you … I warned …

Ube falls to his knees, wailing. He slams his fists into the ground over and over until blood is spurting out from between his fingers. He holds his bloody hands to the sides of his head and screams until he loses consciousness.

Ube may have conquered the Crucible. But he lost his mind on that flaming island, surrounded by the corpses of his brothers. He left with the Void Sword in his hand, the Void Cloak on his back, and an Archdemon wearing the Void Tether behind him. He went to claim his throne.

----------------------------------------

The vision begins to fade, and the story is over. I am back at the fire on the long road to the Capital City. I look around and see a few sad faces; Ellie is crying into her father’s shoulder, Alliyah is rubbing her back, and our eyes meet. She looks worried and mouths. Are you okay?

I nod and feel the wetness on my neck. There are tears on my face. I wipe them on my shirt.

Harold smiles sadly at me and looks over to the family.

"Why?" I ask him, "Why do you tell that story? What’s the lesson in that?” He looks thoughtful for a moment before responding.

"It's part of our history. There are many lessons a person can take from it. Everyone here might gain different insight; it is not a child’s fable. There is no one moral to take from it. It's just the truth, our history, that this happened. The real world is messy, and lines are blurry. What you gain from this is up to you." He sighs. "I'm sorry that this is the first story you hear from me. I’ll come back again, another night with a nicer story. There are plenty of those, too. Goodnight, Noelle."

The mood has changed now. Sleep is on everyone's minds. I return to the cart with the Storm family and lie in my little alcove across from the kitchen. Just an hour ago, I had been standing there excited to hear a new tale; now, part of me wishes I had just gone to sleep then. My throat still hurts from the accidental exposure to Nyce's Skill, and the bed isn’t nearly as comfortable as my hammock. Sleep takes a while to find me, and when it does, it comes bearing nightmares.