The door at the top of the stairwell cracked opened with the slightest squeak, allowing a sliver of silver light to fall onto Kellal’s face and chest. He brushed his dark hair back over his head with a calloused hand, but it fell straight back into his face. His hair had grown longer than he liked while imprisoned.

Kellal looked into the room beyond the door. It appeared empty at the moment and he heard no noises coming from within, stay the slight hum of a luminescent stone illuminating the room.

Hoping that the room was unoccupied, Kellal pushed the door fully open and stepped inside. He tried to orient himself and remember which door led to the outside, but every wall looked exactly the same.

The room was filled with a wide assortment of empty lamps, swords, and guard uniforms. There was a large cast iron pot in the center of the floor filling the surrounding area with a noxious scent that Kellal knew all too well from his stay in the cell. The walls were bare dark stone blocks, perfect for keeping any warmth far away from the gloomy prison.

Kellal strode towards a door on the opposite wall, grabbing a short sword and guard’s uniform from an unorganized pile on his way. He removed the rags hanging from his waist and began to put on the thick leather clothing. Despite flarers ability to survive in colder temperatures, the protection from the biting air would still be welcome.

Halfway through pulling the pants up over his legs, Kellal heard footsteps coming from behind the door next to him. He rushed to finish getting dressed, but was not quick enough. The door swung open in front of him, spilling a faint evening light into the room.

A massive guard stepped through the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly brushing the sides. The two looked at each other for half a second before regaining their composure and both taking a step back. Kellal finished pulling on the pants and dropped the leather cuirass to the ground next to the sword.

A grin spread across the guards crooked face, revealing several missing teeth.

“If it isn’t my favorite prisoner,” The burly man said as he reached for the sword hanging at his hip. “I’ll have to repay you for this.”

He tapped his nose. It was horribly disfigured, slanted sharply to the left, and had a large purple bruise around it.

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Recognition flashed across Kellal’s face as he realized that the man was one of the guards that arrested him after he had saved Claire.

“I’m not going to give you the chance,” Kellal said. His reserve of heat was low from the confrontation with Stinky and Light. Beating this mighty guard without any chest armor and while preserving his heat would be a challenge.

The man barreled forward, slamming the door into the stone wall and letting out a resounding roar. He closed the distance quickly for someone of his stature.

Kellal was forced to tumble to the side and snatch his weapon from the ground. He landed crouched, sword in hand.

The guard pivoted on his heel and lashed out with his blade in a wide arc, but he overestimated his reach. It missed Kellal by a few inches.

Seeing an opportunity, Kellal catapulted himself forward to get in close with the man. He aimed below the shoulder of the man’s sword-wielding arm. Nearly four weeks in shackles had left Kellal rusty and slow. The strike did not land and he felt a thick meaty hand grasp his right wrist.

Kellal let out a gasp as the guard’s iron grip dug into him. The guard shoved him to the ground and the sword clattered away from his open hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the glint of sharpened metal above his head.

Kellal was backed into a corner. He reached into his chest, pawing at the last droplets of warmth he still held onto, before flaring with everything he had.

Thin red lines spider-webbed up over his stomach muscles like a net of molten veins. Kellal twisted his entire body around. He felt his shoulder pop as the guard held his wrist to the ground. Kellal sent a powerful kick to the side of a guard’s head, connecting right at the temple.

The man cried out in pain as he fell to the side, releasing Kellal’s wrist.

Already on his feet, Kellal grabbed his sword from the floor and fell to one knee as he plunged it into the guard’s throat. A splash of warm blood and a gurgle of defiance was the last that came from the man as his eyes turned glassy.

Kellal had grown used to killing when he needed to. These men had chosen which side they would be on, and to Kellal, that was all the reason he needed.

Kellal pushed himself up and off the body. He left the sword in the man’s throat and went back to the pile to grab another. He picked the cuirass up off the ground and fastened it over his chest. The cracks in his core faded as the heat dissipated. He had been forced to use the all that he had left, leaving him feeling cold and empty.

He paused as he reached the door leading outside, stretching his aching muscles to prepare himself for what could lay beyond. As he crossed the threshold, a cold wind buffeted against him, but the fading sunlight was a blessing on his skin.

Lucerna was a cold and snowy place nearly year-round, with only a few short months of reprieve for a wet and rainy growing season. This made it harder for Kellal and other flarers to gather heat, so they often resorted to carrying candles and torches.

Kellal looked around to see if anyone was watching him. He was alone with only the dark stone buildings surrounding him to keep him company. Raising the hood on his new cuirass, he darted off into the fading light.