Diomede and the others pressed close together as they moved through the bustling market. Kira felt the warmth of the people's joy, yet the sensation unsettled her. The simple, carefree routines of these folk felt alien—how could they live with their guards so completely down, unaware of looming dangers?
Her people were different. Every day was a battle for vigilance, a constant readiness against rival Boarkar clans or the undead slipping through their borders. She'd seen the vast contrasts between races and nations on her journey, but this peacefulness was hard to grasp.
A gentle hand rested on her shoulder—Francisco's reassuring squeeze grounded her.
"I'm alright, Francisco," she said, returning the touch with a grateful hand over his.
He gave a knowing smile. "I saw how the crowd was weighing on you."
Kira nodded. "It's too much. The emotions—they're good, but they flood me all at once."
Francisco scanned the sea of faces as they pressed on. "Even for me, who enjoys a crowd, this is a heavy tide."
Suddenly, a tug on his side caught his attention. As the rest of the group continued on he turned to find a small child staring up at him, her piercing blue eyes shining through a dirt-smeared face.
"Grandpa!" she shouted with pure delight, a big grin revealing a missing front tooth.
A chill of embarrassment ran down Francisco's spine.
"Grandpa? Grandpa!" the girl called again, her voice carrying across the bustle.
Francisco knelt to meet her gaze. "Now, now, little one. I'm sorry, but I'm not your grandpa," he said with a soft chuckle.
The group turned toward the shout—Lily rolled her eyes, Diomede simply sighed, and both resumed their pace.
But Kira paused, drawn in by the explosion of excitement and love radiating from the girl—until that feeling warped, darkening into something sinister beneath Clayton's rising anger.
Grabbing Clayton's arm, Kira whispered urgently, "What is it? What's wrong?"
In a voice thick with rage, Clayton answered, "I know her. She's from Blue Stream."
Kira snapped her gaze back to the child, probing deeper into the flicker of false joy. The warmth was a mask—a tainted emotion. What should have been genuine love, dark magic seething beneath poisoning the feeling with deceit.
Francisco reached out, about to lift the girl. "Come now, let's find your mama."
But before he could move, Kira lunged forward, voice fierce and urgent, "NO!
Don't, Francisco!"
At the sound of his name, Francisco turned sharply to see Kira and Clayton sprinting toward him.
Deep inside his mind, a harsh voice rasped, like metal scraping against stone, cold and relentless:
"You aren't going to keep her safe. She's going to die—just like Leona."
Francisco's heart felt pierced by an icy blade.
One word escaped his lips, low and heavy:
"Flamosa."
Suddenly, the small girl in his arms erupted into flames. Twisted, agonized screams tore through the air, echoing from the burning figure.
Townsfolk froze in their daily routines, eyes wide with horror as they watched a child engulfed in fire.
Kira dropped to her knees, her breath catching in her throat. Though the creature wasn't fully human, its pain poured into her like a cruel wave—the torment of burning flesh, the chaos of fear and agony flooding her mind.
Clayton fell beside her, wrapping his arms tightly around Kira, as if to shield her from the tormenting sight and the searing pain of that cursed flame.
The weight of Clayton's grip was little solace, barely a whisper against the storm raging inside.
Clayton's gaze was locked on the burning girl, now reduced to ash and char, while Francisco stood amidst the fire, his face like stone holding no emotion, his true Nesfundur form revealed to the horrified crowd.
A flash of memories struck Clayton's mind—dark and urgent.
Suddenly, a voice rang out, sharp and shocked:
"By he who is high!"
Another shouted, disbelief thick in their tone,
"Did he just kill a little girl?!"
"He did, I saw it!" another yelled.
The crowd's whispers grew into a chorus of accusations:
"He's a Drugor!"
"And a flame one too!"
"Kill him!"
Clayton's eyes darted wildly, scanning the swelling anger, the brewing threat.
Kira rose slowly, her form now revealed as well.
Adrenaline surged through Clayton's veins, heart pounding like a war drum.
Then, cutting sharply through the roar of the crowd came a commanding voice:
"ENOUGH!"
A large man stepped forward, thick black beard bristling with authority. Three equally imposing figures followed behind him, their field clothes heavy with the scent of livestock and earth.
"What's going on here?" the man demanded, his voice carrying over the chaos like a thunderclap.
From the crowd, a harsh voice sliced through the murmurs:
"He killed a child! Set her ablaze with his dark powers!"
The man with the thick black beard snapped his gaze sharply to Francisco.
"What's your purpose, Nesfundur?"
Francisco said nothing, his eyes fixed coldly on the smoldering pile of ash at his feet.
Kira felt a chill crawl through her veins — the vibrant, joyful bard she once knew had vanished, replaced by this shadowed figure.
"I asked you a question," the man repeated, voice dropping into a harsher, more demanding tone.
"What's your purpose here?"
Before Francisco could respond, a familiar voice rang out from beyond the crowd:
"His purpose is no concern of yours!"
Diomede and Lily pushed through the gathering throng, parting the restless townsfolk. Kira and Clayton caught up as the group reconvened around Francisco.
Diomede stepped forward, standing firmly at the forefront, the others turning inward to shield him, eyes fixed warily on the crowd.
"A Boarkar is here in the village!" someone shouted from the back.
"They've come to kill us!" another man yelled, panic rippling like wildfire.
Kira felt the tide of emotion crash over her — waves of fear, suspicion, and mounting dread flooding the square.
"ENOUGH!" The man with the thick black beard bellowed, silencing the crowd with sheer force of will.
"Who are you people?"
"We are travelers on a mission of great importance," Diomede answered steadily.
"For the protection of this mission, I cannot share details."
A hush fell, broken only by whispers — Boarkar... Drugor... — swirling like smoke through the crowd.
"And you expect that to be reason enough to refuse escort to the nearest Holy Knight Outpost?" the man pressed, stepping closer until they stood eye to eye.
"And what of that pile of ash at your friend's feet? Part of your mission as well?"
Diomede met the challenge without flinching.
"I can only assume that was an enemy from our recent encounter back in Blue Stream."
The man's eyes swept over each member of the group — reading them, weighing them.
Kira sensed no hatred, only a fierce protectiveness, a community gripped by fear for what might come.
"Come with me then."
Without hesitation, the man turned and strode toward the large barn, the others following close behind.
Diomede motioned sharply to the group,
"Be alert."
He said it under his breath, the others responding with a unified nod.
Kira gently pulled on Francisco's arm. The touch startled him, and he met her worried gaze.
"Oh my… what have I done?" His voice was thick with guilt.
Kira drew him close, guiding him behind the group.
As they moved, the three men began herding the crowd back, shouting,
"Go about your day, it's over now, folks! The boss has it under control."
Gradually, the noise of the crowd returned, filling the air once more with the usual din of the marketplace.
At a large wooden door, they were stopped by a pair of matching guardsmen.
"Wait here. The bossman will come get you in a moment."
Diomede placed a hand beneath his cloak, resting it on the axe heads that hung heavy from his belt. Clayton rubbed the handle of his sword, fingers twitching, ready to draw at a moment's notice.
Kira felt the weight of tension settle in her chest, alongside the quiet regret emanating from Francisco. Lily stood poised behind them all, muscles coiled like a spring, prepared to leap into action at the slightest threat.
Diomede's voice broke the silence, his back turned to the group.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Francisco answered, begrudgingly,
"I did not want the world to know that part of me existed."
Confusion flickered across Clayton and Kira's faces as their eyes darted between Diomede and Francisco.
Diomede's tone remained neutral but firm.
"I told you the importance of who I was helping. I would expect the same trust and consideration from you."
Clayton finally spoke up,
"What exactly are you two talking about?"
Francisco sighed.
"It's about what I did."
"You mean killing that thing?" Clayton said, incredulous.
"That wasn't who it looked like — it was something else wearing her face."
Francisco placed a steadying hand on Clayton's shoulder.
"No, my young friend. It was the flames I created."
Clayton blinked in confusion.
"What do you mean? You've cast magic before."
Francisco shook his head.
"That wasn't magic. Not in the way you think."
"Then what was it?"
"Elemental control. I have the ability to call forth fire from its realm."
Clayton and Kira both exchanged shocked looks.
"The Nesfundur are descendants of the Drugors — ancient beings who led the war against the Gultonks."
Before Francisco could continue, a man stepped out from the barn door.
"Alright, follow me."
He turned and led the group inside.
Diomede led Clayton and Kira flanking Francisco as they entered. Lily stayed cautious, scanning their backs, and only after ensuring they were safe did she spin and follow them inside the barn.