The Vampire & Her Witch

In High Lady Erna’s luxurious private box, Nyrielle leaned back on her gilded throne, turning to look behind her at the other guests and waving one of them forward.

”Ignatious,” Nyrielle said, her voice crisp and free from worry despite the inferno engulfing the arena below. ”These men, how do they compare to members of your Inquisition? Do their flames approach the ones you wielded in your war against the Vale?”

”Their flames are strange, Mistress Nyrielle,” the red and golden-robed vampire said as he moved to the private box’s rail to get a better look. Behind him, Ashlynn glanced briefly at Nyrielle, raising an eyebrow in silent question. Though she had been briefly introduced to the former Inquisitor, she knew very little about the man and she was curious why Nyrielle had asked for his opinion now.

”Strange how,” Nyrielle prompted, hoping to draw more out of him while she had the opportunity. She had her own opinion after fighting several Inquisitors and Templars over the years, but people in the private box like Erna’s brother, General Aleser, had no such experience. ”Strange in a way that makes them more dangerous than yours?”

”They’re impure,” Ignatious said, frowning at the dark, smoldering embers where the ground had split and burned or the cloud of dark smoke that poured from one of the willow trees still burned. ”Their flames are mixed and muddied. Whether that makes them weaker or not, I cannot say until I’ve stood against them.”

”They’re flames of the earth,” Ashlynn added, though her eyes never left the arena as Heila revealed herself to counterattack. ”They form more complete devastation. The Inquisition is famed for Holy Fire that will burn anything to ash. These flames won’t just burn you. The sulfer will choke you even if you can survive the heat burning your flesh and they’ve turned the smoke, soot, and ash into weapons of their own.”

”Then you think that human Inquisitors are just as deadly as these men,” General Aleser asked, rising to the bait that Nyrielle had laid before him. ”But in different ways?”

”I’m not entirely sure,” Ashlynn said, glancing at the former Inquisitor. ”I’ve never fought an Inquisitor and the only demonstrations I’ve seen of their flames were from a time that I was too young to understand what I was seeing,” she said, carefully concealing the fact that even a year ago, she wouldn’t have understood the magic Inquisitors used.

”But I feel like the danger these men represent is their ability to share strength with each other,” Ashlynn added. Her emerald eyes glowed faintly as she watched Heila’s icy retaliation tear through the bonds that connected each trio to each other.

She had no idea how they established those bonds, but it was clear that Heila had recognized them as well, particularly when she watched Heila’s icy magic form a frozen barrier over those very connections, preventing the men from drawing on each other’s strength.

”Watch now,” Ashlynn added, leaning forward with a smile on her face that resembled the predatory grin that Nyrielle so often wore. ”Heila has just torn their connections apart. Now, we will see how strong they are as individuals.”

In the stands, it seemed like everyone was on their feet. The cheers that echoed across the arena when Heila unleashed her storm of ice faded away into an eager, anticipatory silence as she demanded that the men from the Cauldron of Flame surrender while they still could.

”You’re a bold one, Willow Witch,” Ropati said, taking a long drag on his cigar and exhaling a fat plume of smoke. ”One strike and you think we’re defeated?”

”One strike to realize the difference between us,” Heila said, her voice ringing off the arena walls. ”Fighting a witch is already an achievement to boast of for years. All of these people,” she added, gesturing to the thousands of people packed into the stands. ”They bear witness to your strength. Isn’t that enough?”

”We didn’t come here to demonstrate our strength,” Ropati sneered. ”We came to capture a prize and we will not leave without you!”

Without... her? They hadn’t come to fight on Yotsun’s behalf, to earn fame, glory, or even gold, but rather, they came to capture the Willow Witch herself? Angry mutters spread through the crowd and several people began to boo and jeer at the arrogance of these cultists, but a few had a different reaction entirely.

”They can’t do that, can they, father?” Emmie asked, clutching her chain whip and tugging on her father’s tunic. The moment Heila’s storm of ice tore through the members of the Cauldron of Flame, she’d cheered louder than anyone around them and her voice still felt hoarse from her screams of triumph and joy. But now, doubt swam in her eyes mixed with fury that someone would take away her hero.

”I doubt it, little hayseed,” her father said, gently stroking his daughter’s hair. ”Just watch.”

On the arena floor, Ropati took a last, deep drag on his cigar before throwing the stub to the ground where flames consumed what little remained of it.

”She’s sealed your power,” he said in a low voice that only his companions could hear. ”You cannot share it with each other, but that doesn’t mean you can’t give it to me. Without your aid, we will be slaughtered like sheep. Brothers, I will inscribe your names on my flesh to remember your sacrifice and carry them until calamity descends.”

”Until calamity descends,” the group echoed solemnly.

”I have failed to protect my brothers,” one of the men from the triad who had failed to raise a barrier against Heila’s icy assault said. ”Succeed where I have failed. May the name Uksel adorn the flesh of the next Volcano Witch,” he said as he strode forward, holding his staff high overhead.

”Through sacrifice of flesh and bone,

Let searing ash be yours to own.

My power bound in burning breath,

Ignites your strength through willing death.”

A hundred paces away, Heila tightened her grip on her wand and Snow Fang, preparing an eddy of snowflakes that swirled around the Frost Walker blade, ready to respond to the cultist’s next move in an instant. But no matter what she did, nothing could prepare her for the horror that unfolded when the man called Uksel completed his spell.

With a violent jerk, Uksel brought his staff down across his knee, decisively snapping the well-worn weapon in two. The moment he did, flames erupted from each shattered half, flowing up his arms and engulfing his body in flames that burned almost as brightly as Ropati’s fireball before their battle began.

It took only seconds for the flames to reduce Uksel’s body to motes of glowing ash, dancing in the still air of the arena. In the stands, people watched in horror as Ropati stepped forward, spreading his arms wide and taking a deep breath, inhaling the still glowing embers that were all that remained of the once powerful sorcerer.

”I too have failed my brothers,” a second man from Uksel’s trio said, stepping forward and raising his staff high overhead. ”May the name Pavea adorn the flesh of the next Volcano Witch...”