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Emmet 'Bonfire' Knox

With a hand nestled against my bandage that scours the entirety of my chest, I lift up another tent, finding a sleeping Abraham. His eyes flutter and squirm but don't open. It's rare to see the insomniac asleep, but I need him right now.

Johnny is hiding something from us about Wyatt. I can't find him anywhere.

It's normal for Virgil to disappear, even for days at a time, but not Wyatt. And to make matters worse, no one will tell me where he is—not even Earl or Elizabeth.

I crouch down close to the sleeping man and place my fingers around his nose. But before I squeeze, I stop. This is serious. I can't be playing around like usual. Shifting to accommodate the searing sensation of my skin touching my clothes from the recent burns, I shake him awake.

"Abraham!"

The alabaster-skinned man with equally pale eyelashes wakes up in a haze, staring at me, confused. I don't give him a chance to speak before I start.

"Where is Wyatt? Do you know where he is? Can you Daymare him?"

Abraham's eyes droop the moment I ask my question, unable to parse my gaze that, rapidly turns into a glare. The thumping in my chest accelerates as I feel my hands grow hot. Sparks fall from the tips of my fingers onto the ground beneath him, where we are given temporary shelter.

"You..."

I hardly croak out a word before Abraham throws up his hands, pleading mercy.

"Hey, hey, hey! I'm only doing as Johnny asked! Go talk to him with those sparks!"

My teeth grind as I look at him, awake by only an inch with the dark shrouds around his eyes. I thought we were friends. I thought we were close.

"Why are you hiding something from me? I thought... I thought we were..."

Abraham sighs as the sparks grow in volume to a near stream of heat from my hands. He reaches forward, wrapping his palm in his bedsheets as he grabs my wrist with a yank, pressing it against the ground.

"Calm yourself. I know you have issues controlling your Ether, but please. I will talk. Just... Be calm. Wyatt and Virgil are... missing. They fell into the Wastes during the major earthquake heading up the plateau."

Every time he tells me to be calm, the swarming warmth only improves its flow. And by the end of his words, the stone beneath my hand is turning into a molten rock. Abraham coughs from the rising smoke and steps back, the cloth in his hand scorched from proximity.

I run through the options of what to do, and the very first is right in front of me.

"Have you not tried to Daymare them?"

Abraham slowly shakes his head in such a depressive way that I can feel his disappointment. Then, he points to the makeshift bed in his tent.

"Of course! That's the first fucking thing I did! But... it took me a few hours until I could recover enough for an attempt when we got up here. By the time I could..."

He trails off, falling backward to sit on the crate that holds his few belongings. His Claymore, Colts, and spare clothes. The item creaks under his weight despite his frail form. For a Nahullo... he truly is fragile, even if he's only half.

My mind can only momentarily distract me from what his words mean, however. He couldn't find them. I hardly get out my following words.

"So they're dead? Both of them? How can that be? Wyatt... he's unkillable!"

Abraham coughs as he provides me with at least a little bit of hope.

"Wyatt is so hard to kill, even I was unsure at first, but they... indeed might not be dead. When I clawed them with Daymare, it felt impossible to reach them, like that with dead people. But... as I tried longer, I gradually got a sense that they were there, just hidden behind some fog. That's why I pushed myself until I fainted in here. They're out there—in the Wastes. It's blocking my Absolution, but they are there."

My eyes light up with literal fire as I accidentally Ignite myself, my whole body turning to a swirling blaze. Stepping back from Abraham, I pull my arms close and shut off the flow of Ether, gradually hauling the skill back around. I've never been best with my Ether as it flows according to my emotions more than my mind, but ever since I got my Absolution, it's only been worse.

Johnny believes it's because I have such a ridiculous resonance and affinity with my Sigils that create fire that it responds more to my soul's feelings than the thoughts of my mind. It's an idea that makes sense. I just don't know if I like that kind of sense.

Once my fire dies down, I reach for Abraham and yank his arm right as he finishes gearing up, grabbing his sword and guns. He shouts at me as I leave the tent with him, practically dragging him out.

"Hey, hey, hey! I'm coming! You don't have to fucking lug me like a dog!"

I laugh at him as I bring him to Johnny's tent, the one in the center of our several hundred-man encampments right outside Gravecross' walls.

"Then why did you lie to me?"

Abraham sputters out an answer as I pick up my pace, the man hardly able to regain his footing. Maybe he shouldn't have lied to me.

"Because you'd do something stupid!"

I whisper under my breath before using my other hand to clasp around my mouth, whistling into the night. One sharp note and two long. Clumsy and Frozen stumble out of the same tent not far from me, cards still in their hands.

"Damn right. Come on! I got something to ask Johnny."

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Dragging Abraham with my closest friends behind me, we quickly reach Johnny's tent. Once we're near, I notice that it's unusually hushed, so I reach for the flap and pull it open carefully.

Looking inside, I find not just him. Raising an eyebrow, I stare at the gunslinger as he takes care of his Lumen while Blake sleeps on the makeshift bed only a few feet from him. With a light smile, I nod at him before aggressively motioning him to come out.

The older man sighs before leaving his taken-apart weapon on his desk and following me out. He steps over Blake with such tranquil care that I feel a pang in my heart. I always knew she had something for him. I am surprised he had something back, though.

Backstepping, I let him exit and close the flap, and then I look him in the eyes. Before I even get a word out, however, his pupils flicker between all of us before landing on me again.

"You found out?"

I nod. Damn right, I did.

"Yes. Why didn't you tell me Wyatt was missing? And that Abraham couldn't yank him back through whatever bullshit he does?"

Slowly, my voice rises, but the waving flap of the tent behind him helps me keep my tone down. Blake didn't do anything, but my pointed finger lies on Johnny.

He coughs lightly into his hand before walking even further from the tent, motioning us to follow. The gunslinger's boots crunch into the gravelly stone beneath us, and I force Abraham to follow with me.

Only once we're a distance away does he talk.

"Don't want your yapping to wake everyone up, especially Lennon and Tomas. Bonfire."

He says my name while peering right at me, his golden pupils providing some amount of light to this moonless night. Johnny hangs on my name for a moment before continuing.

"If I had told you, you would be within those Wastes right now, unrecovered and guaranteed to die. You and Wyatt are too similar for your own goods. While he's reckless and naive to a fault... you are far too loyal. There has got to be limits on how far you will go for someone, Emmet. You will die if you go into those Wastes. I can see it."

The fury builds with a brilliant conclusion not that distant in sight as Johnny turns and lifts his hands while speaking. He hid it from me because he thought I would die? Because he thought I was too loyal?

"You do not possess Wyatt's durability, endurance, or his ability to improve on the fly. You also do not have Virgil's know-how, experience, and skill in surviving all environments. You enter those Wastes, even healed, and I don't see you making it to him. Perhaps you will be able to discover your mistake and climb your way back now that you've mostly recovered, but... I don't want you to die, Bonfire."

I brush off his care. I once would treat it the same as anyone else's care, but he lied to me. He lied to me about Wyatt's safety. What he thinks of me doesn't matter anymore. At least Abraham didn't lie. He just didn't talk to me until I made him.

So, I stride right up to Johnny and stab him with my forefinger as sparks scrape alongside his overcoat lined with charcoal. The force doesn't make him budge, but I stare right into the eyes of the taller man without gazing away. He doesn't turn from me, either, the golden pupils vibrating in the night.

"You do not know me. If you did, you would have told me. I promised Wyatt that I would protect him—that I was his friend. I do not make friends lightly, Caldwell."

Johnny's face shifts at the name I call him as if he's hurt that I would change that. He did it to me. He broke our trust first. I've stayed with him for safety, fun, and the occasional chance to do something that makes me feel warm inside. But if he doesn't respect me, then I won't respect him.

"Don't do this, Bonfire. We need you."

I scoff at him, stepping back with raised hands to point at the massive walls not far away. Words stream from my mouth before I even know what I'm saying.

"Do you? Everywhere we've gone, you've gotten more and more manpower to help you. You've spent very little time with me and my boys since the days at Rustbank when you first hired us for a job. You have a whole city of people to fight with you, the third or fourth time this has happened, in fact."

I take a short break to breathe in but restart before Johnny can eke a work in, motioning to Clumsy and Frozen.

"I don't think you need me. I don't think you need us. If you really did... you would have hunted down Cigar and Woody's killer with me."

"I was busy defen—"

He cuts in, and I return the favor.

"And you couldn't even make an hour to help? To check in? To... do anything? If you were there... you could have saved either of them. But no. You were too busy protecting people you didn't even know. I am not against helping people, too, Johnny. But... I will always put my friends first."

Johnny stays silent after my rant, but Abraham is the next one to speak. He steps between Johnny and me, attempting to soothe the situation.

"Okay, guys. Chill out. Johnny could have done more, but Bonfire, he's only human. And he's right about chasing Wyatt. There is no way you live out there. Canyon sent out a whole squad of 5th and 6th Sigileds, and they barely came back from just the plateau's wall with their lives. Do you really think you're that different?"

My face twists as an open flame births on my palm. Abraham... The teeth in my jaw grind and squirm against each other. I'll have to be careful not to burn my tongue.

"Do you doubt me that much? You said it yourself, Johnny: I'm worth a dozen 6th Sigileds. A Forerunner, right? What happened to that? How little faith do you have in me? Has my position in your eyes fallen that much? Once upon a time, I was the strongest you had other than yourself. Has that changed? Yes. I'll admit it. Tomas, Lennon, Kwakiteh, they are all better than me."

My head lowers as I speak of those Angels, but it rises again at the end.

"I might be weaker than them, but do you really think Virgil and Wyatt are stronger than me? But WHAT did you hire me for!? You hired me for my strength, despite my personality. We all have our own specialties, but I will, under no circumstances, lose a fight. Have I? Have I ever lost when I wasn't already on the fucking Pale Lady's doorstep before I rose from a fucking coma!?"

Johnny reaches for me with hands swathed of Ether just as I realize I'm fully Ignited, my entire form doused in flame. My body is see-through and intangible, but his hands grasp onto my shoulders tightly as his gloves twist from the heat.

"I am sorry. I did not know that you felt that way, Bonfire. I do not believe you are weaker than them. My faith in you does not lie in the survival of a Wasteland—it lies in scorching people to ashes. You said it yourself; you all have your specialties. Virgil's calling is quiet investigation and assassination. Wyatt is to be an unrelenting force that cannot be killed. And yours... It's to do what you did in Blackstone. Turns hordes of enemies, whether weak or strong, into ashes."

His words only manage to calm me slightly as I regain partial control over my flames, lowering the heat until the leather stops sticking to his skin. Johnny shakes his head as he steps back, not in disappointment of me but himself.

"I made the wrong call. I'll admit it. I should have told you. I see now that there was no stopping you. Go on. Go into the Wastes. Find him if you can, just... don't die."

I nod to him with the slightest bit of respect as he admits his own failure. Far too few are willing to do that. Even I... I don't want to go there. After a moment of meeting Johnny's gaze, I step past him, heading toward the edge of the plateau. As I saunter away, however, he shouts for me.

"You speak of my little faith, but what of your own? Do you think Wyatt would die in a storm?"

His question makes me pause, even forcing Frozen and Clumsy to look at me with hints of worry. Abraham has only partially followed us. I can tell he's torn. He cares about his own safety too much. He's almost always neutral; rarely does he help others. Only in the past year has he started to be more... caring. Before Rustbank, no... before Starkbluffs, he was always incredibly distant. We'd argue, and he'd immediately run off on his own afterward, barely staying for a conversation or game.

Regardless, Johnny's question makes me think. Why do I want to chase after Wyatt so severely? Do I really believe he'll die in the storm?

Maybe. Maybe not.

I think I'm just too scared to take the chance.

"I have faith in him, Johnny. I just couldn't live with myself if I made the wrong choice. Even if I die, even if he never needs my help, I'll be glad I went after him. Because... in the end, what's the point if you don't return the kindness given to you? I know you can't follow. You have too many responsibilities. So... I'll meet you at... let's say, Kingstown."

Johnny twists his head before nodding with a final question.

"Why Kingstown? Do you need to see Maddox for something?"

I shrug, not quite having an answer, as his voice alone still frustrates me. Walking away with Clumsy and Frozen, I return him my random thought.

"It's where we first met, Johnny. Ten years ago. I don't know where we'll pop out after entering these Wastes, so I'll meet you at the bar. Maybe we'll even play a hand or two. Or... you could delegate and send someone else. Do whatever you want."

I don't hear Johnny's reply, but we continue walking toward the plateau's edge. Gradually, we pick up the pace as I nod to Frozen. He starts laying ice at our feet as we enter the forest outside the city of Gravecross. From there, we slide on the ice as I release jets of flame from behind while we all hold onto each other, speeding through the woods.

Clumsy often has to use his empowered Grease to cut trees down in front of us. His recent Swimmer really put some work into increasing its raw output. It's not even much of a slipping tool anymore. It can cut down small trees with ease while still being flammable as all hell.

From the day it took to reach Gravecross due to injuries and having to take apart the train to make wagons, we now slide to the edge of the plateau in only an hour. The ruined and dismantled train just lounges on the tracks with more damage to it than I think I've seen Wyatt have before.

Clumsy whistles at the sight, pointing at the beast of burden.

"Damn. Never thought I'd see the day a Steam Train is taken down—less so riding it while it happens. That was crazy huh!? Wild what's happened the past year. If only they were here to see this."

I nod with him as we approach the edge, knowing exactly who he is speaking of. Sighing, I step over strewn about parts to see the swirling red sands only a hundred feet beneath the cliff. According to Canyon's scouts, the dust hasn't risen at all in the past day, steadying out at about five thousand feet in the air.

"Grab the rope."

Clumsy sets his pack down as he starts unfurling his rope. As he does so, I grab the extra that was left from fixing up the wagons. We should have enough to reach the bottom. Five thousand-ish feet of rope is a hell of a lot, but the train has plenty of leftovers.

I help Clumsy tie our anchor as Frozen asks a question, his finger on his mouth.

"Just us three? What about Abraham? Is he not coming?"

I shrug as I yank the knot tight, testing its strength.

"Dunno. Let's just get this ready and head down. Sun should rise in a few."

We gather up a few more things before tying us three to each other in case someone falls. It's a long way down, after all. Only the Wendigo or his father could walk off such a thing.

Then, we step to the edge, peering down at it once more.

"You sure this is something we should be doing?"

Frozen pouts as he leans over. He has a fear of heights. I know that.

"Once we get in the sand, you won't even be able to see up or down. Don't worry."

"That does not make me feel better."

Clumsy laughs with his rumbling chest just as we hear a pounding series of footsteps behind us. Turning, I find an alabaster-haired man waving his hands at us, shouting the whole way.

"Wait! Wait for me!"