The witch stepped forward, holding the relic. She began to chant, her voice harsh and raw.
"Esh'Zhar'kul ven drathis,
Esh'Or'mekh bal thurin,
Esh'kar vel drakon,
Et'Nath'rel vohr ashen'kai,
ET'BIRTHERA VOR KHAR'NAH!"
I whispered them with her. They were my translation, after all.
"By the scales of flame,
By the breath of Pyronox,
By the cinder that births ruin,
Let the tyrant be swallowed in her own fire.
Let her end be her undoing."
I whispered the words along with her.
The ground trembled. My fire rose in answer. Black and alive. It slithered around me, crawling up my arms, wrapping around my skin like chains of flame. Then it spread higher, taller, until it towered above me, shaping itself into something massive. A dragon of fire, its body writhing, its jaws opening wide.
Their eyes widened. They had expected me to scream. To burn. To fall apart under the spell.
But I didn't. I couldn't.
Why was I already aware of this?
Because I had tried before.
A long time ago.
The witch's voice grew louder, harsher. Her body shook as she repeated the spell again and again, spitting the words like blood.
"Esh'Zhar'kul ven drathis,
Esh'Or'mekh bal thurin,
Esh'kar vel drakon,
Et'Nath'rel vohr ashen'kai,
ET'BIRTHERA VOR KHAR'NAH!"
The flames around me rose higher still. The dragon's body shivered in the air. And then,
It turned.
One of the men barely had time to scream before the fire leapt from me and swallowed him whole. His body was gone in a blink. Nothing but ash.
The others froze, horror twisting their faces.
The spell had backfired.
And I was still standing.
"You fools," I whispered. My voice was quiet, but the flames carried it. "You think to wield my fire against me? You think I can be undone by what I am?"
I raised my chin. The fire swelled taller, burning black and cruel.
"I am fire."
The second man's scream was short. His body was gone before the sound even finished. Ash floated where he had been.
The others cried in horror. Their breaths caught. Their weapons trembled in their hands. They had seen death before, but this was different. This was immediate. Final.
The witch's voice cracked but she didn't stop. She forced more spells out, faster, harsher, dragging more from the relic.
"Kar'vehn drakthul,
Voresh'nai tharuk,
Mordral ess'ven,
ASHEN'KOR VORHUNAI!"
The air thickened with the weight of her chant.
Caldus drew his sword. His knuckles were white around the hilt. His jaw was set. He looked at me like this was the moment he had been waiting for his entire life.
The fire inside me surged. It wasn't mine anymore. It wasn't obeying me. I tried to pull it back, tried to command it down, but it ignored me. It pressed forward, heavier, hungrier, devouring everything.
"Stop," I whispered. "Not this way."
But the fire didn't stop.
Another man screamed as the dragon's maw crashed down on him. His flesh burned away in seconds. The others broke, stumbling back, tripping over themselves to escape.
"Run you fools!" I snapped, the words breaking out of me, raw and desperate.
But Caldus didn't move. He came at me instead, blade lifted, eyes locked on me with something that was not hate, not anymore, something heavier.
"Please," I begged him, "don't. Run."
He didn't stop. He drove his sword forward.
The fire met him before the steel touched me. It rose, it swallowed, it turned him into nothing.
For a moment, in the middle of the blaze, I saw his face. His lips pulled into the smallest, strangest smile.
Almost like he already knew.
And I understood. This had been his plan all along. Not to kill me. To die by me.
The ache hit so deep I thought my chest would split open.
The fire inside me broke free. It consumed my mind. My body. My sanity. Just like the way I met my end the first time I died.
It poured out in waves. The tent was gone in seconds. Cloth, wood, bodies, all burned.
I stumbled out into the open. The flames lashed around me, spreading, swallowing stalls and wagons. The market caught like tinder.
Screams filled the air. People ran. Some fell. Some never got up again.
They saw me. They saw the monster I was.
The flames roared louder than my voice.
I burned, and burned, and burned.
And I couldn't stop.