Ernest Flame Mourn is one of six royal siblings destined to lead their clan. Their clan specializes in fire sigils, able to create bursts of flame at will. What separates the average Flame Mourn from the royals are their firepower. In sigil combat, the more tattoos used for an incantation, the more powerful it is. This scales up to five sigils. However, one sigil from a royal Flame Mourn is equal to ten sigils, truly when one faces an enraged royal of flames, all that is left is burned char.
Ernest: Prepare yourself, fiend.
Ernest put on his helmet and took an offensive stance, his spear pointed at Erica. He charged. Erica dodged. She knew better than to parry a blow from him. Erica evaded a flurry of thrusts despite her injured ankle. However, Ernest left no room for mistakes—each thrust was calculated and matched with surgical precision. Getting hit by one would be bad for her.
She skidded backward.
Ernest: Retreating?
A column of fire rose behind her. She could feel its immense power scorching the walls near it. Below, she saw one fire sigil planted. That was all he needed to cut off her escape route.
Ernest took another step forward and placed two sigils on his spear—one on the back, one at the front—and prepared another stance.
Ernest: Hah! You see it now? I knew you would come, so I made preparations.
Erica: But how?
Ernest: After you did your deed, we couldn't just pursue you at that spot. We needed evidence so the higher-ups at Thraw wouldn't question us. So I secured Neil's journal and his belongings for safekeeping. You knew you needed to get rid of that evidence, so I laid this trap for you. I bought this lousy building and reinforced it with guards. See this door?
He pointed to the one behind him.
Ernest: Made of steel. You can't bust it open. And you must be wondering who has the keys.
Erica: You…
Ernest: Hahaha! Do you see it now, witch? The moment you stepped here, your fate was sealed. Now…
Ernest took slow strides forward.
Ernest: With all the evidence we'll compile from his diary and the scans of the area, we'll easily have enough proof in due time. So prepare yourself to become a corpse.
His armored feet hummed underneath, and smoke dispersed from them, leaving the ground scorched. Then, with the sigil beneath, he rocketed towards her. She attempted to sidestep him, but the swing of his spear, amplified by the sigils connected to her skin, made her flesh coil in pain as it turned to a blister.
She was sent crashing against the wall. Barely breathing, the smell of burned skin overwhelmed her senses. She looked up to see Ernest, his height now looming over her like a titan. He grabbed her by the throat and dropped his spear from his other hand. At the corner of her misty eyes, she saw a sigil appear on his now-free hand. Terror consumed her. Covered by mystical flame, he prepared his fist.
Ernest: Die!
Ernest covered his left eye. Blood spewed from it like cascading water. He screamed in agony and coiled to the floor, releasing his grip.
Ernest: How?!
Ernest then fixed his other eye on the thing that had punctured him. It was his own spear. On closer inspection, he saw sigils beside his own inscribed in it—five wind sigils. Then it all came rushing back. When he had connected his spear to her, that's when she had planted them. Then, when he least expected it, she activated them, sending his own spear beneath the gaps of his helmet.
Erica now stood leaning on the wall. Her arm numb, her back bloodied from the strike, yet a smirk cracked on her face. Ernest blew heated breaths, just as the sigils on his spear and the wall of fire died. Slowly, then abruptly, the spear started melting, the hallway becoming a furnace.
Ernest: You think you got me?!
The whole room started turning red.
Erica: Stop! There are people still here—you'll kill them!
Ernest understood. He knew she was right, but his rage overshadowed the little restraint he had put on himself. He remotely returned the sigils to himself and started chanting.
Erica knew that spell all too well. When she was a child, her older brother came to her, half his body charred. He had fought a Flame Mourn and, though victorious, it had come at a cost. He told her that no matter what, never engage one because, "There are better ways to die."
Ernest: The flame is an echo in time...
Erica: Ernest, look around you! You'll blow everything up!
He ignored her, continuing his chant. The floor around him hissed with fiery energy. Flames rose from his armor as he formed an orb of fire between his closed palms. Its brightness illuminated the entire building like the sun.
Ernest: Let thee burn to nothingness…
Erica had to think fast.
Guard: Ugh… Ernest, stop! We're dying in here!
One guard had regained consciousness and saw the move Ernest was about to perform.
Guard: You'll kill us all!
The flaming orb expanded too large for his hands to contain. Even his armor melted, yet his skin remained unburned—a blessing from his bloodline.
More guards awoke from their agony and begged Ernest.
Guard: Ernest, it's not worth it! Remember the evidence! Remember your honor as a Flame Mourn—
Ernest: Silence! You who beg for your life know nothing of my lineage. When I first met this witch, I should have ended it there and then, but she… Amber stopped me!
A tear dropped from his unharmed eye, then sizzled into the air.
Ernest: All this pain she has caused, all the killing—I could have stopped it back then. I could have saved Amber.
The orb's shape started to warp the space around it. Erica needed to do something.
Erica: Amber… was a good person. She treated everyone with kindness. No one was without her warmth.
Ernest: …
Erica: Ernest, for what it's worth, I'd gladly lay down my life for someone like her. The only one who trusted me.
She knelt to the floor.
Erica: Just please stop. More lives will die if you do this.
Ernest hesitated. Evaporated tears stained his vision. Then the room started cooling, his breath settling. His rage still simmered. The orb fizzled, leaving a deafening silence, ruptured only by the sizzling of armor and the smell of roasted bricks. Ernest collapsed to his feet, looking at his own two hands.
Ernest: What was I going to do? Kill these people for…
He searched ahead and saw nothing but the dried blood where Erica had knelt.
Erica propelled herself forward, ignoring the gnawing pain that gripped her. It wasn't as graceful as before. She was stubbing moving her body with pure wind. In Ernest's rampage, the steel door had melted, giving her an exit. She found the cell she was looking for. She embedded her tattoos on another coin and tossed it into the cell.
It hovered to the diary and pushed it toward her. She placed it in a head sack in her now slightly burned coat and took out something—a cube with a sigil on it. An explosive. To activate it, it needed the user's sigil planted in it. She hadn't wanted to use it earlier, not just because she didn't yet know where the diary was, but because it would have caused too much noise. She placed it at a nearby wall and allowed her sigil to "leap" onto it. The cube floated a few feet in the air and—
Boom!
The walls were now busted, and the way out revealed itself.
Ernest: So it was a lie—you laying down your life.
Ernest was at the far end, opposite the newly made exit. His eye had stopped bleeding, but the rage in the other was evident. He barley stood, although skin still as smooth as before, his clothes where mixed with molten steel and iron. He probably can't move as much as he would like.
Erica: It was no lie. I just can't give up my life right now.
Ernest: After you've taken so many.
Erica: I… When this is done, when I find Neil and get answers from him…
She felt a ring on her finger.
Erica: Then I will end it. Even despite the tragedy, I've caused harm before. I can't be forgiven.
Ernest: Then die now. You leaving will mean more resources needed to catch you—resources that are needed for the grieving victims. Imagine them, if you can. Their loved ones vanished all in one place, decades of ancestry obliterated in one night. If you truly believe in not harming others, you will give up your life now and at least soothe the widows—widows suffering.
Erica still had her dagger at her side. Though slightly melted, it was still sharp. She could do it now. Her less injured hand from its way to it. Its cool steel blade felt surreal after the inferno she had endured. Its warped features reflected the moonlight, creating petals of light around it. It almost called to her, wanted her.
"There are better ways to die."
Then it clanked to the floor.
Erica: I will honor my word once I accomplish my mission.
She turned around to leave, then was caught by the sound of giggles. They erupted into insane laughter.
Ernest: I knew it! Words are cheap for scum like yourself. I can't chase you now—my men need my assistance. But remember this: I will burn the ends of the world to find you and avenge the hopeless.
Erica smiled.
Erica: I'm glad Amber had a caring brother like you.
Her shadow vanished