Chapter 96 The First Reckoning — Flame and Flesh
The Rift was no longer a place.
It was a wound. A rather large wound, more like a scab that had been picked too much and was now just a gaping tear, a gaping tear in reality that is, pulsing with flame and memory, bleeding magic into the world like a fever dream. The ground cracked beneath our feet, and the sky above shimmered with fractured light. The final shard pulsed in my chest, and I could feel it—Virellian was coming. She wasn’t going to let this go, and I wasn’t going to let her win.
We had no more time.
The Flameborn resistance had gathered at the edge of the Rift. Ashborn warriors, Kindler healers, Embercallers whispering flame into the wind. The Cindersworn stood like statues, their eyes glowing with emberlight.
Seren had sent word: “She is no longer mortal. She is becoming the Rift.”
And we were the only thing standing in her way.
“She’s close,” Yuel said, his voice tight. “The ley lines are screaming. Like a schoolgirl stuck on a rollercoaster.”
Thessa adjusted her armour. “Good. I’ve been waiting to stab something existential.”
Kael checked his satchel. “I brought snacks. And sarcasm.”
Zeke loaded his crossbow. “Gerald’s ready.”
Gerald snorted, his horns glowing with flame-forged metal.
Quacknor flew overhead, wearing the Queen’s crown and radiating a mix of duck warlord and vengeance all rolled into one.
Ellira and Lira were sketching glyphs into the dirt, their hands trembling.
Milo stood beside me, the black flame in his hand pulsing in rhythm with the Rift.
“Why is the black flame always pulsing in time with your heartbeat?” I asked.
“I feel everything,” he said. “So it is responding, just like your powers, they pulse you glow a little brighter. She’s already here.”
“I know, I felt it. I was just trying to take up a little time. I am worried we are not strong enough to fight her.”
The ground shakes and rolls before splitting open.
The flames around us surged, shooting into the sky.
And Lady Virellian rose from the gaping wound that was the rift.
She was no longer just a woman.
She was flame and shadow, memory and wrath, her armour forged from the Rift itself, though her amour was already cracked. Her eyes were burning with stolen power.
“You might want to get your armour repaired,” Kael calls
“Don’t talk,” Virellina hisses
“I was just trying to be nice, but since you don’t want to take me up on it, I guess you can monologue now,” Kael replies.
Thessa stepped forward. “We’re not afraid of you.”
Virellian smiled. “You should be.”
She raised her hand.
As if it were a well-organised stage show.
The first wave hit like a storm.
Virellian summoned beasts of flame and frost, magic that tore through the battlefield. Ashborn warriors clashed with them, their blades glowing with emberlight. Kindlers rushed to heal the wounded, their hands trembling.
Kael hurled glyphs, his voice cracking.
Zeke fired bolt after bolt, his aim steady but his eyes haunted.
Ellira and Lira summoned barriers, but the strain was showing.
Yuel collapsed a ley line to trap a beast, but the backlash knocked him to the ground.
Gerald headbutted a flaming serpent.
Quacknor dive-bombed a frost elemental and exploded in feathers and fury.
Milo stood beside me, shielding me from a blast of fire.
“I can’t hold her,” he said. “Not like this.”
“You don’t have to,” I said. “We fight together.”
The emotional toll was immediate.
Thessa’s blade arm was bleeding, but she refused to stop.
Kael’s jokes had faded into silence.
Zeke was shaking, his hands blistered.
Yuel was coughing blood.
Ellira and Lira were arguing mid-spell, their synchronization faltering.
Gerald was limping.
Quacknor was missing.
Milo was pale, the black flame flickering erratically.
And I—
I was burning.
The shards pulsed in my chest, each one screaming with memory.
I saw my mother.
I saw the Rift.
I saw myself.
And I saw Virellian.
She descended into the battlefield, her steps cracking the earth.
“You are fractured,” she said. “You are weak.”
“I am flame,” I said. “And flame remembers.”
She launched a wave of fire.
I blocked it.
The shards surged.
And the battlefield trembled.
We pushed back.
Thessa led a charge, her blade glowing.
Kael followed, hurling glyphs.
Zeke fired into the storm.
Yuel rewove the ley lines.
Ellira and Lira summoned a wall of flame and water.
Gerald headbutted a beast into oblivion.
Quacknor returned, wearing a crown made of feathers and vengeance.
Milo stood beside me.
And we burned.
But it wasn’t enough.
Virellian was too strong.
She had bound herself to the Rift.
She was becoming it.
And we were breaking.
Thessa collapsed, her blade shattered.
Kael was bleeding from a dozen cuts.
Zeke’s crossbow snapped.
Yuel was unconscious.
Ellira and Lira were out of magic.
Gerald was down.
Quacknor was wounded.
Milo was fading.
And I—
I was alone.
Virellian stepped forward.
“You cannot win,” she said. “You are already lost.”
I raised my hand.
The shards pulsed.
And I screamed.
The flame surged.
The Rift cracked.
And Virellian staggered.
But she didn’t fall.
She vanished.
Leaving behind a whisper.
“This was only the first.”
We collapsed.
The battlefield was silent.
The Rift was still.
But the cost was clear.
Thessa was unconscious.
Kael was barely breathing.
Zeke was burned.
Yuel was broken.
Ellira and Lira were silent.
Gerald was wounded.
Quacknor was missing again.
Milo was drained, and I was exhausted.
A scroll appeared.
Thessa, barely conscious now, read it:
Dear Flamekeeper and Associates,
We are aware of your battle at the Rift. We are not impressed.
We remind you that reality unravelling is a felony. Your defiance towards the royal is treason.
You will now suffer the consequences.
Sincerely (we will make you pay),
The King of Aeloria and the missing Queen.
Gerald snorted.
Quacknor returned, dragging a scroll of his own.
We were broken.
But not defeated.
The next battle would be magical.
And we would be ready.