I gorge on the artillery reserves. Technically, I’m not supposed to help myself, but they have so many and considering how much I’ve assisted in this war, they can hardly complain about a few missing explosive projectiles.

After Hund left without a word, the first thing I did was check on Grímr. Thankfully, he was up and moving when I reached him. The damage to his body is extensive though, and it will take him a while to regrow the wing he lost, even consuming as much metal as he’s been given.

I burn through the casing of another shell, consuming the explosive powder within before it can blow the roof off this storage building.

Everyone along the front is in a celebratory mood. Unsurprising considering we’d been expecting to hold down for the next month while the Order and Joiak figured out their differences. To have such an easy win so soon is enough for every soldier and mercenary to cheer.

Of course I’ll sneak some free food out of the military’s reserves while most guards are off drinking. Even if I am supplied with metals, there are simply not enough to recover my energy.

Hund and the ursu army running up the mermineae’s back explain their desperate attacks in the past week. Stuck between us and the encroaching New Vetus army, they had no other option. Hund himself would likely terrify them enough to send them to us rather than attempt to take him on. The Viisin clearly didn’t want to fight the massive ursu.

I create a ball of flame in my hand. If anyone else were here, they might fall into hysterics. Most aren’t exactly fond of the idea of me starting fires around so much explosives. But there’s nobody here to stop me.

The flame starts as a familiar yellow. Slowly, I add to it, increasing the density as the heat rises. My past barrier no longer stopping the flame from reaching that pure, untainted white. Even to me, it feels intense. Just to make this small, palm sized ball, I need to use the equivalent energy of twenty metres of yellow flame.

There is some level of that for the lower temperatures, but the jump has never been this extreme. No wonder I struggled to pass that wall; I never pushed hard enough.

Back with the centzon, I hadn’t been trying to compress the flames. No, I’d been enjoying the taste and spreading the invisible flames as far as they would. My body hadn’t experienced the heat directly. Whether that is a factor or not, I’m unsure.

I stare in awe at the small flame. It is far brighter than the flames I could make before. Despite the tiny size, it illuminates every corner of this storage warehouse. It’s so intense that I find it hard to understand how the next stage is invisible to sight.

It’s really annoying to know I could have reached this heat months ago, if I used the oil as a catalyst from the start. Now that I know it’s about sheer scale to pass the barrier, I’m sure I would have succeeded, eventually. Sooner rather than later.

But something bothers me. If white flame is this intense — hot enough to melt rock and stone at a touch — then just how hot is blue fire?

I assume blue flame is the step further than clear, so that would place blue flame at an unthinkable heat. It wouldn’t be a leap to say an áed with blue flame would be far stronger than me, right?

So then, did Elder Cyrus actually die?

I know I could survive the earth crumbling on top of me if it were to happen now. Maybe it wouldn’t be clean; I’d have to wade through a lot of molten earth to escape, but I could escape.

…Unless he was crushed before the stone could melt. He didn’t have my binding, after all.

I… I shouldn’t think about this now. Maybe there’s a chance he is still alive, but there’s no use lamenting the past. Whether he’s alive or dead doesn’t help me now.

After cracking open the last of my shells and burning both the explosive inside and its casing, I leave the munitions storage. I wave to the guards as I walk past them. They do a double-take before paling considerably, but they don’t chase me down. Perks of being well known.

The mermineae fur of my outfit can be rather useful. Jav’s sisters outdid themselves with this one. It is clear they’d taken the fur from my old snowsuit and reintegrated it into this one, but they hadn’t simply used it as a fur coating. No, they somehow combined it with their own thread and made it as waterproof as it was before. Only now, they’d integrated the camouflage so that I could use it only when I wanted to, with the pull of a string conveniently placed on the inside of my collar.

Now I don’t even have to show my flames when I want to be seen through the camouflage. Not that it had been an issue before; the outfit having been torn up far too much to ever go unnoticed.

The tarp door of Grímr’s tent makes way for my hand and the wide space holding nothing but the alicanto’s form and a pile of scrap metal welcomes me. It’s great to have people delivering us food at all times like this, but I wish they’d give us something other than iron for a change.

I have my own tent, with my own delivery of iron scrap, but my size seems to have influenced the thoughts of whoever is in charge of both. My tent is tiny and the platter of metal I’m given is nowhere near enough to recover from that last battle.

Doesn’t matter much. I spend all my time in Grímr’s tent, anyway.

These tents are sparser than the ger I’m used to. They feel simple and less homely. I’m rather prideful about my race’s obviously superior mobile living quarters. This thing doesn’t even have a proper door.

“How’s the recovery?” I ask as I drop by his side, leaning against him like a backrest.

“Slow.” He angles his metal beak toward me. “The talons might take a day, but the chest and wing will be a week.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

I’m unsure why, but I feel an intense sense of guilt as I gaze over his crippled body. Despite being the target of the Viisin, I recover from my injuries in only a few minutes, while Grímr is stuck with his for an extended period. Doesn’t make much sense, it’s nothing either of us can change, but I feel guilty about it all the same.

“That… was too close, Solvei. It was foolish not to realise you were painting a target on your back.” Grímr stares at the plain canvas wall, peering at nothing. “I’m not strong enough to protect you. I know you don’t agree, but I don’t want you entering battle unless you have a Beith ready to take the Viisin’s aggression.”

“No,” I deny. “You’re right.” It’s not only myself I’ve put in danger here. Grímr’s current state is enough proof of that.

Once the Viisin had me in its sight, I couldn’t escape. I think it’s wrong that the commanders allow the weakest to die for the sake of hiding their elite, but I don’t care about those soldiers enough to put my life in such a dangerous position. Maybe that’s cruel of me, but I’m not suicidal.

I especially don’t like that Grímr threw himself into that fight.

I’m able to actually hurt the Viisin now, but only by trading my body for theirs. Considering their rapid regrowth, I would still need to get lucky. Better to leave them to the people able to fight them effectively like Spenne or Hund.

At least, until I can apply my white flame to more than a hand sized amount of my inner flame.

The mermineae between Joiak and Vanguard are dealt with now, so we’ll soon be travelling to the main mermineae invasive force. Other than retaking a massive amount of land, we’ve also removed an entire front from the Vanguard, so hopefully Bunny will have an easier time fighting off the Theocracy.

A rapid clanging of bells rings through the encampment. Grímr and I share a glance before rising to our feet. An attack? But the mermineae should already be dealt with.

Gunfire rings out, but it the bangs of artillery do not accompany them as usual. Soldiers scramble for their weapons, many stumbling from intoxication after the celebration.

I whip the tarp out of my way, striding outside with Grímr hobbling close behind.

I twist to the south; toward the heaviest commotion of shouts and gunfire. The ursu army is already in full formation. Our own, not so much. In the dim moonlight, my eyes scan over the landscape, but I can’t find a single mermineae. Did they sneak up on us? How did the volans miss them?

A squad of large ursu men charge the line of riflemen, shrugging off gunfire and swinging their blades through the varied races.

The… the ursu are attacking? Why? Weren’t they helping us deal with the mermineae? They even set up camp right beside us. We all thought they were allies. Why are they attacking?

The ursu army continues forward, cutting through any that stand in their way. Their imposing figures send many fleeing. Gunfire hails down on them, but they shrug it off. Thick armour and helmets taking the impact of the projectiles.

Flames churn within me. They would dare betray us? Me?

I’m rushing down the hill before Grímr’s protests can stop me. As I pass the barracks of our soldiers, I feel the tall, heavily muscled creatures within. Amongst cooling bodies.

They’re already in the camp? But they haven’t yet passed our defences? How could the ursu of all creatures sneak in without being noticed?

Not the time. I need to get down there and stop them now.

My flames spread around me, but an errant thought has me stumbling to a stop. Where is Hund? It doesn’t matter how angry I am at this betrayal, I will never dare go against him. There is no possibility of winning against that monster.

My flames pull back into me, and I backtrack to Grímr. I shouldn’t have left him alone. Not in his current condition. Not while there are enemies within the camp.

As I run up the slope, I feel one of the hidden ursu turn their attention toward me. I dig my heels in and slam myself to a stop with a jet of flame, avoiding the stream of water passing before my face. The flow slices through tents and gouges the earth a dozen metres up the hill.

I stumble backward, only for another stream to blast through the air, blocking my retreat. Both streams come from the same ursu, so I jump in the air with a blast of fire and rocket toward them. They need to burn before they can get another spurt out.

I keep my senses peeled as my body soars toward the ursu, and I’m glad for it; from both sides, a pair of water pillars rush to cover my target. Sacrificing my offence, I fall back. The crossing flows of water collide and splatter a shower of mist into the air.

I tug the hood over my head, snapping the mask and goggles into place. How lucky I am to have not removed my outfit for this battle.

Water mages? Seriously, what are the odds that I’m the one unlucky enough to be ambushed by them? Low. Likely impossible… unless I was targeted.

There are three ursu water mages. One ahead of me and one on each side. There are plenty of other ursu still amongst the surrounding barracks, but I have no way of knowing which are mages and which aren’t.

My outfit should be waterproof, but I really don’t want to risk it against these pressurised streams. Just looking at the tattered tents around me says enough about their power. My outfit is waterproof, not tearproof.

The trio of water mages close in on me, so I take a risk and rocket out the rear left, toward the smallest of the hidden ursu. One less likely to be a risk compared to any other.

The massive wall of water rushing at my face immediately informs me of my folly. There is no dodging this time. I brace, burning as hot as I can and hoping my outfit can handle the impact.

I don’t hear tearing, but the pain of water eating away my chest is enough to know the cloth didn’t completely survive the impact. It stings, but nowhere near how much it should to get hit with that much water. Steam surges off me as I lay in a puddle.

I scramble to my feet, not trusting the already torn outfit to hold out the water. My legs shiver at the unnatural slosh of stepping through water, even as it vaporises on contact.

Of all people, I should know not to underestimate someone for their size.

This can’t go on. I need to get out now if I have any chance of survival. A moment before I throw myself skyward, a wave of water curves over me, connecting with the puddle on the other side and hovers over my head. The sides curve in on themselves, making a sphere of curving water streams around me.

I’m trapped again. Seriously?

The water droops. A cage like this is obviously against the nature of water, but the mage keeps it flowing rapidly, curving the roof well above my head.

A few drops of water fall, but curiously, they vaporise before even touching me. I create a tiny ball of white flame — only as much as I’m willing to suffer the pain of losing — and hold it near the wall. The water boils around it.

I brace myself and push the tiny white fire into the water. It is painful, extremely so, but a good section of the cage vaporises the instant my fire touches it. Unfortunately, the wall recovers, replaced by much of the surrounding water. My fire doesn’t survive the contact.

“Please, leave her to me,” a young voice says, coming from the short ursu mage.

“What? We can’t do that. You know how dangerous she’ll be if left alive,” one of the ambushing mages says.

I can’t make much of that white fire outside of my body. And I’m especially not sure I’d be able to handle the pain of walking through water, even if I can burn away a good portion of it now. As much as I absolutely despise it, I’m stuck. Trapped. At the whim of these mages. No longer am I beholden to the knot’s manipulations, but I still prioritise freedom and detest entrapment.

Whatever their plans are, I’ll make them burn.

“Remember that favour I asked?” asks the short ursu.

The other mage takes a moment to reply. “If you are certain. Make sure she’s dead after you are done.” The ursu mage says hesitantly before taking the other ursu around us and rushing down the hill to join the battle against the losing pact nation’s army.

With the others gone, the young ursu steps forward, her voice strained. “It has been a while, Solvei.”

Even through the white heat, my chest runs cold.

“Leal?”