The light flashed before his eyes.

It was over quickly and brought no discomfort. Thomas had walked down that path before; now the light and slow-motion seemed dull and the forest lacking previous luster. Each time he walked down that road something in him had changed; each time he was less of a fool and more of a coward. His feet dented the ground more now, his hurried steps leaving marks in the holy soil. It was too warm in Painron even for him. It was that unnatural humidity that accompanied gray clouds and swarms of tiny insects that made the air heavy and Thomas’s breathing fast. He had one of his hands on the handle of his sword, the sword Kyla had given him months ago when they first started training together. But he didn’t think he would get the chance to show what he had learned; he just came to talk. The thought of slicing someone open still made his stomach ache; he was certain that no number of decades would help him get used to the sweet metallic smell of blood and rotten flesh. He was also certain that not a day would pass without waking up to the smell of burning concrete and limbs. And Diane Hunster’s eyes.

What had the Flamer been doing since the queen left him? Well, he would wake up with the sun, walk around town, always busy with this and that, train with Kyla, contemplate about what he would say to Diane once she came back, train some more, then talk with Kyla about what to do once Diane came back or what their plan would be once Diane came back. In short, he waited. Elaine would come every month or two to pick on him and try to break his spirit, and he cried after the first few visits; then he woke up one day and decided that he had to become Diane Hunster, a strong, merciless warrior of justice, the man the world would rely on and hate, all in the name of some peace he didn’t understand. His head was so full of right and wrong he almost closed himself off entirely. Luckily, Kyla was there to mediate between his new obsession and the reality, but even she couldn’t find the remedy to this new illness.

In short, they all waited for Diane Hunster.

Thomas was now close to the main road. It would take him about an hour to reach Painron on foot; he hoped to rent a horse there and ride to the castle. He had it all planned out, except where he would get the horse and what he would say to any guards that might stop him. Instead of thinking such ugly thoughts, he amused himself imagining Brandon Hunster’s face upon seeing him. Would he be surprised? Confused? Frightened? Glad? Maybe he would admit that he had been wrong in the past and beg to be let to right all his wrongs and be part of his daughter’s life. Don’t we all dream of sweet reunions and happy endings? Thomas dreamt of war; it was his idea of a happy ending. He had never seen war before; singular fights sure, and death, but war… War was distant. War would be Diane’s choice. The right choice. And he wouldn’t let anyone else die again. He still had such silly little quirks. Kyla found them devastating; she couldn’t believe a man of his importance could allow himself to dream. But then again, they were in this situation because of a dream; two actually, clashing.

Seven months is a long time in a world of clashing interests; the idea of who Diane Hunster actually was slowly became more and more distorted in Thomas’s mind. He made her into an idol he worshipped, his idea of perfection, or a God. He had to get her approval, a pat on the back. “You’ve done well.” That was all he needed. Words of affirmation, to know his existence wasn’t meaningless, to fill the void that deepened with each passing second. To feel whole again.

There was never fog in Painron, no ash either, despite all those chimneys. The sky was visible yet somehow dead. The entire city had lost its soul since he had last visited. People with red eyes and golden hair walked around freely now; not many of them, but their presence was so colossal they kept millions of Crystalians right under their soles wondering when they would be squished. No one looked at him strangely anymore; his eyes were familiar, like a friend’s. Maybe he would find Diane Hunster and bring her back to save them. They didn’t mind her past anymore; in fact, maybe they were all just rumors after all. If this was their punishment, they were ready to repent. At its root, the situation hadn’t changed; they simply found someone else to hate. Only they were no one’s kin but their own, these travelers from a faraway land. Thomas attentively observed everything, from the smallest bugs on the streets to these new people. He felt like he was walking through a cloud, not remembering a single thing he had observed through oddly sharpened senses. He was overly conscious of every single thing that crossed his mind, only to completely erase it a second later. He was walking down the street so swarmed by all these strange contradictions that, when he walked by a bakery, he almost missed the crowd standing in front of it. As he looked to his left, a chill ran up his spine and raised the hairs on his body. People’s faces were grim and the air heavy with disbelief and indecision. And horror, most of all. Thomas couldn’t see the inside from where he stood and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. But Diane would. She would split the crowd in two and walk right into the lion’s den.

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What am I so afraid of? I am not who I used to be. This is my responsibility now. It doesn’t matter what I want to do, but what she would do.

Thomas wiggled forwards a little. No one tried to stop him as they needed a reason to leave. He would need to make two more steps forwards and he would be inside; but he stood still again, watching the backs of people’s heads.

But I don’t have time for this. This is not what I came to do. I have more urgent things to do. That’s right. Diane would have assessed the situation and made the optimal choice. What is more important now, talking to Brandon or wasting time on something that could be nothing?

A chunk of the people who stood in front of him turned around, and, ghost-like, quietly walked away.

I have more pressing things at hand.

It was a little girl’s head that was pressing against the display. Her skull had been open for a while so the pastries were not visible anymore. It was a perfect picture of hatred. A Demon grabbed the girl’s hair to continue painting. With each second that Thomas spent looking at them the glass broke slightly. Thomas’s first instinct was to step back, but then he saw bold spots at the back of the girl’s head and his eyes lit up.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked, his voice strong and determined, his fingers in a fist, white. He was in the middle of the bakery now, only the Demon and the little girl in front of him.

“She tried to steal from him,” a female Demon who was standing near the man replied with a smirk. “Not that it’s any of your business, Flamer.”

“It very much is my business,” Thomas replied, trying to mask the nervousness slowly building up inside him.

“Oh, yeah?” the female Demon replied sarcastically. “Did you hear that, John?”

The man smiled. “A little busy here, honey.”

The woman looked at Thomas with her arms crossed. “Scram, pretty boy.”

In the moments before flames consumed his brain, Thomas saw Diane’s face clear as day: her hair, her hands, her eyes, her gentle voice begging him to become the best version of himself. And in his mind, he had been trying with all his might but he simply couldn’t root out his fear. Fear of being rejected, fear of being alone, fear of making a mistake, fear of being great. Fear of making an effort that ends in vain.

He stepped into a cream puff and with a few swift movements pulled the male Demon away from the display. The sound of his shoulder blades cracking replaced the banging against the glass. Thomas grabbed the Demon’s neck with so much hatred he crushed it, the pieces of his larynx scattering all over the cream. For a second, silence ensued. The people who were still standing outside were looking at the flood of blood, veins, and bones, as Thomas continued to step on the Demon’s lifeless body until his foot hit the floor. Then they frenzied. The female Demon charged towards Thomas, expecting the power of her gravity to be lethal. She didn’t expect him to turn her body into ash. And he didn’t expect to find himself outside of that awful cloud all alone in a pool of someone’s blood. His senses were painfully sharp and the smell was so strong and haunting he started vomiting all over the floor.

You’ve done well, Thomas. Really fucking well.