By the time the women reached Revan, the fire had spread rather fast. Once the trees were burning, the homes and buildings behind the sparse forest were to be next. Perhaps even the temples if the fire continued to unfurl. Oddly enough, Zara felt nothing. Normally she would worry about the innocents—the children, especially, that could be hurt from it. But her main concern right now was the smoke in the air, making it difficult to breathe.

Revan wanted to put an end to this, for reasons Zara couldn’t understand, given his apparent loathing of people. He would succeed, as usual. What did concern matter, when there was no real danger after all?

Saren and Zara had to unwrap a part of their dress so a piece of its cloth would be long enough to hug over their mouths and noses. It was a hard trek, and their eyes stung the closer they got to the heat. .

Zara’s feet were getting pricked and cut up on the nettle and rock infested ground. She hadn’t thought to go backstage and put on her shoes after the show, but it would have been the smart thing to do.

“Zara,” Saren said through her cloth, squinting at tall dark figure. “Is that him?”

What Saren had been referring to looked nothing like a person, never mind the man they were searching for.

“What in Lilith’s name is that?” Zara squawked.

What was a giant black owl-hawk, born to the forests in the western lands, doing in the middle of a city like this?

“Revan?” Zara called as they approached the thing.

It turned its head the entire way around, its nightmarish eyes looking too round, too yellow, and glowing with sinister aura, making Saren cringe uncomfortably. The bird stood at the height of an adult person. Zara had never seen one of these live in front of her before. It was typically a carnivorous bird, and while they were not much of a threat to living humans unless attacked, it was said to bring ill health and loss of one’s fortune, monetary or otherwise. She couldn’t imagine the bird actually spreading its humongous wings and taking flight. An overwhelming sight to behold, for sure. It was no wonder such a bird was often chosen as a focal villain in children’s stories.

How the hell had Revan managed to get his hands on such feathers?! And why didn’t he EVER show it to me?

The beast-like creature morphed back into its human form. Saren shuddered, then coughed violently when her dress cloth mistakenly slipped from her face.

“What—?!” Zara was about to ask.

But Revan intercepted her. “I was out of raven feathers, but no matter. The hawk was better for visual sight through this smoke. It has little affect on its powerful lungs.” He was clearly keeping that part of its power going in him to aid in breath and vision. That creepy yellow still tinted his normal eyes. “Emran is close by. I was able to spot him from the treetops. He’s near the tents, where the rest of the food and beverage remain. It seems he’s mindlessly stolen a multitude of torches around the site for this. Still inflicting as much damage as he possibly can. Zara, I need you and Saren to gather some water with as much ice as you can retrieve.”

“Huh? Where are we going to get ice?” Saren asked.

“There’s a large ice box in the back of some of the tents. I am not sure which ones. I suggest you two start looking now. We should put this fire out before the authorities get here and start investigating. We also need to bring Emran with us and hide him until I’ve worn off the spell over him.”

“What spell exactly?” Saren’s muffled voice was teeming with eager curiosity, even though they were amid the danger of burning weeds and trees.

“Ask Zara,” he replied shortly before shooing them away. He then went off to retrieve Emran.

As much as Saren wanted to ask, there was no time for questions. Zara and Saren hurriedly waded through the cooking tents that Revan had pointed them toward. They had split up to make their search go quicker, and among the ten or so tents, they had gathered four full water jugs with ice gathered from the cooling boxes.

“What are we doing?” Saren demanded. “I swear if anyone saw us now, they’d think we are insane to try and put out a fire like this, with just these.” She held up her two sloshing ice-filled jugs.

“Careful!” Zara warned. “I think I know what he wants. Trust that you’ll be witnessing yet another enchanted miracle tonight.”

Saren scoffed, panting. “Oh I’ve seen plenty today alright. Life has gotten much more interesting since the day I greeted you both.”

They soon began to cough and hack, and were forced to set the jugs down on the flattest ground they could see through the thin smoke. Up ahead of them, the condition was worse. Zara didn’t know how they could possibly make it further. So she decided they would wait. Wait and watch the fire destroy something more pleasant than trees: the stage.

Though only one side of it was scorching; it had yet to spread into the middle where the platform was. But it will still cause some damage for sure. Damage that may take a while to fix before it looked as pretty as it once did. The theater had been going to waste anyway, hosting filth-ridden events like tonight’s. Its fate was unfortunately deserved.

Zara had left the creativity of this final act up to Emran, and she couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride for it, along with how much space he had covered so far. When she was clearing the tents, she noticed multiple torches, and the oil lamps near the cooking tables, had been missing.

“You seem pleased,” Saren judged, holding the same part of her dress—now dampened with cold water—over her mouth and nose, the same as Zara had done with hers.

“Well…I made my choice,” Zara said. Whether it was really for the best or not, was a question better left to contemplate tomorrow.

Revan soon emerged, dragging with him a disoriented Emran. The men were dirtied with sweat and grime. Emran was holding onto the older man like his legs wouldn’t work, hacking and heaving.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“He resisted, but I had him see reason,” Revan announced simply. “The fire hasn’t damaged the homes beyond the woods yet. But it’s causing more ruckus. Zara, come with me. Saren, you stay here with him.”

He dropped Emran to the ground in front of her like a sack.

“What?” Saren protested. “I can’t come?”

“No.” He picked up the jugs by her feet.

Zara picked up her own two, trying not to breath through her nose. She wanted to assure Saren they would be back soon, but she didn’t really want to talk. Instead, she settled on a look that told her friend that she was sorry to be abandoning her, temporarily. Zara took one glance at Emran, curled up on the ground shaking, and her heart twinged.

She followed Revan into the woods where the flames burned brightest.

“Follow my lead, dear,” he said, setting one jug down and gathering the other with both hands.

The cold surface of the jug felt great on her palms. Zara wanted to rub her face with it.

Revan began a quick recitation, and while she carefully copied his words, she felt herself somewhat resisting it, for some reason. He and Zara soon flung some of the ice water into the fire and immediately a thick sheet of crystal blanketed the shrubs and floor, crawling up the nearest tree, and effectively smothering the flame.

“We’ll need to melt all this straight away,” Revan added.

They kept this up until they were near the theater again, or at least the part that had been most inflicted. At one point, Zara had stopped reciting the spell at all. She didn’t need it, and the resistance within her ceased. Once she understood the task, it came naturally to her. Such magic was in her nature. Revan gave his acknowledgment to this, glad that Zara was picking up on her innate senses even better now, and also because this made their work go faster.

Zara was almost through with her second jug when she heard the squealing cry near the theater.

“MUNI! MUNI!”

Alarmed, Zara ran like her feet had a mind of their own, clutching the jug to her chest. The heat was growing—the fire had reached one of the tents that had yet more cases of unopened liquor. A servant lay near it, unconscious.

The crying rang out again. Zara now recognized those screams belonging to Jiyara.

“SOMEBODY HELP US!”

“I’m coming!” Zara called back, running again.

This side of the theater was littered with shrubs and stray trees, which were still burning. If there had been stronger winds, the fire from the tents would have made all this a lot worse.

The tattered-looking young girl finally spotted Zara coming. She was knelt on the ground over Muni’s still body.

“Zara!” she shouted through her sobs, shaking the limp figure. “I can’t get her to wake up!”

Zara’s breath caught when she saw the pool of blood under Muni’s head, seeping into the dirt.

“What happened?” Zara asked. “What caused this?”

Fat tear drops gushed out of Jiya’s eyes, her heavy black kohl streaking her cheeks.

“She was helping the servants get out, and then everyone came running and stomped over her,” she wept. “I don’t know where they went. I don’t know where anyone is.”

She’d been trampled by her fellow panicking actors. Zara knelt down and tried feeling for a pulse. She wasn’t sure if Muni would rise again, and the flames were getting nearer. Jiya was coughing horribly, and Zara was seeing dizzying spots. There was a slight pulse, but there would be no time to save her if Jiya was in the way.

“I’m sorry, Jiya,” Zara said hoarsely, covering her mouth and nose with her dress cloth again, “but you must go.” She needed to put this fire out. Zara had only wanted the stage to burn and its watchers to go to Hell; she hadn’t wanted the performers harmed.

Her heart sank to low depths, and her head ached as she attempted to restrain the ever rising guilt.

“But I can’t leave her—” Jiyara protested.

“You have to!” Zara said firmly. “If you want her to live, you’ll go!” When Jiya didn’t move, Zara insisted more furiously, “GO!”

Flinching back, Jiyara forced herself to run away, her head constantly turning back to look at her dear injured friend, whom she might never see again. She soon disappeared into the smoke cloud ahead.

“Muni, please get up,” Zara begged, shaking her and tapping her face. The woman wouldn’t stir. “Fuck.”

There was a way to save her. Zara was on her cycle, so it was possible if Muni was dying, Zara could make use of this uniquely feminine ability to save the woman’s life. She rolled Muni’s body around to lie on her back so Zara could access the gashing head wound.

Perfect.

But was there time? Zara should put some of the fire out first. It was getting unbearably hot as the dry shrubbery nearby readily embraced the constantly oncoming flame.

A shrill scream tore across the night.

“Jiya?!” Out of instinct, Zara left Muni behind to search for the little girl in need of more immediate attention. She called her name louder once more, though it was muffled by the damp cloth wrapped sloppily over her face. The little water left in the jug sloshed around as she ran with it.

“HELP!”

It was difficult to see through the damn fog. The curtains at the front were burning steadily, and more smoke arose from the back rooms of the stage, creating thick blankets of smoldering fumes. The stone foundation of the theater was serving as a decent protection, preventing it from falling apart entirely.

Zara managed to follow the frightening voice, and it led her to a terrible sight.

“Oh my—” Zara panicked.

The girl was on fire. Or rather, her dress was. Jiyara was flailing around and screeching like she could run from it. How the hell had this happened?

It was too hard to see where the exit gate was. To the left, Zara could see a stray body on the ground, ablaze. The body lay closely below the stage, where the smoke was the heaviest, though there were no active fires around, so Zara didn’t understand what brought this on. After a speedy assessment of her surroundings again, she guessed the body belonged to a performer that had gone backstage with everyone, in search of safety. Once the fire had come to that area, the poor actor had tried making a run for it, but it was too late. Navigating the fog in their disoriented state, they tumbled back out to the platform and tripped off it.

If she hadn’t been paying attention, or perhaps if the smoke had caused enough fatigue, Jiya must have accidentally stumbled upon the blazing body.

“Jiyara!” Zara yelled to the small flailing figure. “Hold on!”

The girl’s wails were difficult to listen to. Her fear and subsequent pain as the flames danced over her backside, no doubt attacking her skin by now, felt too unbearably familiar.

Zara’s mind flashed back to the mountain at Pria, to Yohid’s death ceremony.

Neither of them deserved such a fate. At least Zara had a chance to change this one.

With a mega strong burst of energy, fueled primarily by panic and fury, Zara flung the jug and let the last bits of cold water rain over Jiya.

The intensity of the magic brought on an unexpected—and extremely undesirable—effect. The water and ice mixture had spread across the ground in a thick sheet, in a pace too rapid for Zara’s eyes to keep up. It had spread over the dead body and Jiyara. Within a second, the fires had been successfully put out on them both, and Jiya’s screams of agony had stopped.

The only problem was, Jiya was completely shrouded by ice.

“NO!” Zara cried out with a heavy cough and a sob. “NO!”

She raced up to the girl, who was rigidly encased in a glazed block. Zara assessed her, searching for signs of life in her wide, open eyes. Zara examined Jiya’s backside; the fabric of her dress had burned off and her skin was very badly charred.

“Jiya?!” she called, carefully knocking her fingers on the block.

Of course there was no response. Everything about her was frozen and unnatural, like she’d been captured and framed into this shiny jaggedy box as a cruel display.

“Jiya,” Zara wept, pointlessly poking the ice again. Her mind was already thinking of how she was going to undo this mess and thaw Jiya out until the unthinkable occurred.

The ice tipped over and shattered into pieces. Along with Jiyara.

It was like she had been nothing but a porcelain doll. Except Jiyara was a human being, and the sight of this was more gruesome than a broken toy could ever show.

“Shit,” Zara whispered shakily. “Shit!”

She stepped back, unable to peel her eyes away from what was left of Jiya.