Chapter 11: The Price of Death
From the Sanctum emerged the Flameward Exarch. He looked over the plaza, eyes weighted with sorrow. In his hands, he carried a massive war hammer, forged from the same blackened stone as Aeor's weapon. Behind him, three clergy members followed in silence.
"Barek," the Exarch called, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Flame born of grief is not true flame. You should know the price of using the Eternal Flame."
Barek turned.
"Stop this before more lives are lost."
But he didn’t answer. He charged.
The clergy reacted instantly.
Three chains of fire, one for each warden, shot into the air. They arced like serpents of judgment toward Barek.
Two struck him mid-run.
Barek staggered, but did not fall. His foot slammed into the ground, cracking stone. Flames pulsed wildly around him as he surged forward, dragging the burning chains with him.
He roared, primal and broken.
The chains shattered.
A ripple of fear spread across the plaza.
"He broke the Chains of Judgment?" Alar said, stunned. His voice carried.
Even the three wardens recoiled.
The Exarch closed his eyes.
Still, Barek came.
The wardens recovered, raising their hands. A dome of fire erupted around Barek. The temperature spiked, the air shimmering, the stone beneath the dome beginning to melt.
Most of them have control over fire essence, Aeor thought. Makes sense, given their faith. But Barek’s flames… this is different.
The dome's color shifted from orange to yellow, then blinding white.
Then it vanished.
The priests stood in disbelief.
Velora gasped. "He's converting their fire essence. His body shouldn’t be able to handle that for long."
White fire rippled across Barek’s frame. Heat warped the air. His skin shimmered beneath translucent scales, not red, not flesh, but essence-hardened armor. His breath came in bursts, like a forge on the brink of collapse.
The ground trembled with each step.
Across the square, the Exarch waited.
His hammer pulsed with golden flame, not wild, but resolute.
He did not speak.
Neither did Barek.
Then they moved.
Barek surged forward, the ground cracking beneath his feet. White flame trailed behind him like the tail of a comet. The Exarch planted his stance, raised the war hammer with both hands, and met the charge head-on.
The impact was thunder.
Gold and white flames collided in a brilliant explosion of light, blinding. Heat rippled outward, bending the stone, turning dust into sparks. Everyone in the plaza shielded their eyes.
The two figures skidded apart, only for Barek to close the distance and strike again.
This time, he struck low. His fist met the Exarch’s leg, and the hammer came down in response, aiming for the shoulder. Barek twisted. The blow clipped him, tearing away a chunk of glowing scale. It hissed as it struck the ground.
Barek didn’t flinch.
He countered with a rising uppercut. The Exarch blocked with the hammer’s haft, golden fire spiraling around his arms. Sparks scattered like falling stars.
"Barek," the Exarch growled, "this is not who you are."
Barek roared.
White fire erupted in a ring around them, vaporizing stone, consuming even the light. The Exarch narrowed his stance, lowered the hammer, and began to chant in Solaethi.
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Chains of golden flame lashed toward Barek.
But the white fire met them midair.
Not with resistance, but with hunger.
The chains sizzled, crumbled, and vanished, consumed by heat too pure, too raw to bind.
Barek dashed forward, feinting high, then driving a knee toward the Exarch’s ribs. The war hammer intercepted, but the blow still landed, knocking the Exarch back three paces.
The Exarch exhaled once.
Then he stepped into the next swing.
He twirled the hammer and brought it down in a radiant arc, flames flaring in sacred patterns, each stroke carrying doctrine, conviction, belief.
Barek caught the head of the hammer with both hands.
White flame clashed against gold.
Cracks splintered from their feet. Light seared the sky.
For a breathless instant, neither moved.
Then the head of the hammer cracked.
A line split down its golden core.
The Exarch’s eyes widened, but he didn’t retreat.
Instead, he released the weapon and thrust his palm forward. Flame gathered into a single radiant burst.
It struck Barek full in the chest.
The white flame buckled, shuddered, then flared even brighter.
Barek roared, arms outstretched, fire spiraling from his shoulders in chaotic waves.
The two forces repelled one another, divine order against grief-forged wrath, until both were hurled back.
The Exarch crashed into a stone pillar, blood at his lip.
Barek dropped to one knee, steam rising from his body, a low growl trembling in his throat.
The plaza fell silent again.
Ash drifted like snow.
And still, the battle burned.
Steam hissed from Barek’s shoulders as he rose from the cracked earth.
The glow of his Fire Scales dimmed in places, fractured lines spreading through what had been flawless white. His breath came in shallow gusts. Fire essence clung to him like dying stars, pulsing unevenly.
But still he moved.
Across the plaza, the Exarch slumped against the pillar, one hand gripping the haft of his broken hammer. He didn’t rise. His eyes followed Barek in silence.
Aeor stepped forward.
No words. No signal.
Just movement.
He dashed, death essence humming along the edge of his blade. The shadows behind him split as Velora followed, mist trailing from her robes like a specter. Dregor marched on his left, gravity cracking the stone beneath each step.
Zoey came last, skirting wide, arms lifted. Water coiled around her wrists, glowing faintly blue.
Barek looked up, eyes gleaming like molten opal.
He growled.
Then he charged.
Aeor met him first.
His blade struck flame-wrapped hands, death essence eating into the white fire. Barek twisted and swung. Aeor ducked and brought his sword across Barek’s ribs. Sparks flew. The strike skidded off scorched scales, but it staggered him just enough.
Dregor slammed in from the side.
His shoulder hit Barek like a stone avalanche. The impact sent both sprawling. Dregor tumbling into rubble, Barek sliding to one knee.
Velora’s mist surged in.
She appeared like a whisper, hands glowing violet. A shell of spectral armor flickered around Aeor and Dregor just as Barek roared and unleashed a blast of raw heat.
The shields cracked, but held.
Zoey hurled a water spear, her largest yet. It struck Barek square in the chest. Steam exploded outward, thick and scalding. For a moment, the world vanished in white.
Then Barek lunged through it.
His fist grazed Aeor’s cheek. Aeor groaned, sword raised, breathing hard.
Velora threw a dagger of condensed mist into Barek’s shoulder. It sank between scales, hissing, freezing the fire beneath. Barek flinched, creating an opening.
Dregor roared, smashing both fists into the ground.
Gravity buckled.
The stone beneath Barek cracked and lifted, tilting his footing. He stumbled.
Aeor started his rush, but stopped.
Zoey was already moving.
Skillet in hand, she surged forward, striking him across the jaw.
A massive shockwave rippled out, sending everyone nearby flying.
An eerie silence followed. Dust hung in the air.
When it cleared, Barek still stood. Bloodied. His flame scales mostly shattered.
How is he still up after all of that? Aeor thought. I was afraid he would die. But after all this… he's still up? Velora’s Stabilized too. Is she that strong when cornered? He’s only Awakened...
Another thought crept in.
And I killed an Awakened with Refined stability?
His thoughts were cut off as a voice boomed across the plaza.
Exarch Irralun stood, blood trickling from his mouth, one hand on his ribs.
"NOW!"
The clergy began to chant in Solaethi.
Threadwoven Speech didn’t translate it.
Golden chains began to form, brilliant and slow. The priests poured everything into it. Even a few guards joined the chant, speeding the weave.
Barek took a lazy step forward.
The chains trembled violently.
"HOLD HIM!" the Exarch shouted.
Aeor and Dregor rushed to tackle him.
Barek, finally, fell to one knee. His body refused to fall further.
His hands trembled. The Fire Scales flickered like dying stars. He looked up.
Not at them.
Through them.
And that’s when Gurz stepped into the light.
Expression blank.
Gurz
The plaza was breaking. People had died.
Barek...
They’d brought him down.
He kneeled, surrounded, his body scorched, his essence fractured, fire still crawling across his shoulders like it didn’t know how to stop.
Ever since Xora, Gurz had prepared for this. He never wanted to lose anyone again. Never wanted to feel that kind of heartbreak. That’s why he made the choices he did.
It was wasted.
Like life is on me.
Mother. Father. Xora. And now his sister.
He saw the world around him, but it was colorless.
Aeor and Dregor had moved aside as Barek stopped resisting. All eyes in the plaza turned to him. Gurz didn’t care.
I couldn’t even save him.
Barek still burned.
Not with rage.
With memory.
Gurz took a step forward.
Then another.
No one told him to stop.
He passed Velora. Her eyes met his, wide and hollow. She didn’t speak.
Aeor watched him the entire way.
Zoey’s mouth opened, but said nothing.
Dregor tried to meet his gaze. He couldn’t.
As Gurz drew closer, Barek’s head snapped up.
The fire flared.
For a heartbeat, it looked like he’d strike. Like instinct would win. Like grief would claim one more name.
His fist rose.
Gurz didn’t flinch.
He looked through the flame. Looked at the man behind it. And remembered.
The winter festival in Sar’Vareth years ago. Zura dragged Barek into the fire circle to dance. He tripped twice. Looked like a fool. She laughed so hard she cried.
He smiled for the rest of the night. Didn’t say a word. But he never looked away from her. Not once.
The way he smiled back when he thought no one saw.
That man was still in there.
Buried under ash.
But Gurz knew the price of using the Eternal Flame.
“She wouldn’t have wanted this.”
His voice barely carried. But Barek heard it.
The flames around his knuckles stuttered.
“You didn’t fail her, Barek. You loved her. We all saw that. But if you keep going…”
His throat closed.
“…you’ll burn the last pieces of her with you.”
Barek trembled.
The white fire pulsed, fierce, desperate.
Then flickered.
A sound escaped him. Not a roar. Not fury.
A breath that broke halfway through.
Like a sob that couldn’t find its voice.
“She forgave you the moment you cried her name. You don’t need to pay with what’s left of yourself.”
Barek’s knees gave.
Gurz caught him.
The heat was still there, faint, residual. But it no longer pushed people away.
It clung to him now.
Like sorrow clings to silence.
Barek didn’t speak.
Didn’t sob.
He just leaned into Gurz’s shoulder.
Heavy. Hollow.
Gurz held him tight.
All the memories, all the weight, everything he’d locked away came rushing in.
He cried.
The others watched. Silent.
The fire had ended.
And for the first time since Zura fell,
Barek stopped burning.
And then he stopped breathing.
The price of the Eternal Flame was paid.
The Price of Death.
