Nathan's first strike severs that last word. Fiesi dives sideways to avoid it, then brings up a spear to counter the blow while the other charges on the offence, aimed for Nathan's hip. Black fire solidifies into a shield that the spear slams into, shattered to sparks upon impact. A cold wave rushes up his arm and disintegrates before it reaches his shoulder. For once, it isn't crippling. He has a chance. Relishing in that, his flame bursts outward from his core, drenching Nathan in azure light.

Hissing, Nathan staggers back, pupils narrowing to slits and fangs bared. The fire's hue accentuates the stark white shade of his skin. Tendrils of darkness slither between his fingers, but Fiesi doesn't let himself linger. He spins. His wing snaps straight, and a blaze of feathers and muscle crashes into Nathan's side.

It sweeps him away with startling ease. Unbalanced, he's thrown across the room, momentarily limp as he rolls to a stop at the base of the marble throne. His face whips up as his fingers curl into the carpet. Messy curls frame the gaunt lines of his face and splay in front of his eyes, dangling like wild vines cast in shadow, matching to the animalistic curl of his lip and the feral glint in his eyes. His features have never wished more to name him a monster. He feels like a mosaic impression of Nathan, one with all the same shapes and colours but blurred to abstract form, warped beyond full recognition.

He springs to his feet with a snarl. Wings spread, Fiesi charges in turn.

His legs pedal as if swept by muddied water, and then his feet leave the ground. Though the sensation is no longer new, the thrill of it lurches his stomach, his insides mist and wind and smoke. He glides forward with swift ease and rockets straight into Nathan. They tackle one another, somersaulting in mid-air before Nathan's feet snag the carpet and he grounds them both, anchored like steel. Flames overtake him. They splay out in all directions, clumped roughly like smudged, wispy tentacles, radiating an icy chill and knived at their ends. Eyes of obsidian blink from within the dark blaze. The fiery strands wriggle free in the form of serpents, a razored hissing clouding the air and clawing at his ears.

Some floating bubble of air wedged in Fiesi's core expands, roughly emptying his lungs, and his own azure flames surge outward, popping and crackling noisily. But he can't fry all the snakes; too many of them flee beyond his shield, gliding effortlessly as if they truly are creatures given life. Flashes of pink and purple tap at the corners of his vision as Rosi and Xyvi wage war on them -- no doubt followed by the others -- yet Fiesi hasn't the time to assist. The epicentre of the disaster is his alone to deal with.

Nathan grins. His teeth flash, flecked with blood. A blade flickers to life in his hand, and he twists free of Fiesi's grip, then aims a vicious swing.

Fiesi's dive to avoid it isn't quite enough. The blade skims his forearm, yet the pain is akin to a sharp nail dug in, hot in its brief agony but small, contained, easy to ignore. By the time he lunges for Nathan's chest, the wound has all but faded away. Even black fire won't slow him now. That giddiness takes him again, soaring high and airy, snatching him up from the ground as he leaps.

The momentum is exhilarating, easy, but it's too much. He realises his cocky mistake too late; Nathan swerves around him so swiftly he blurs, and a gust of energy pummels his side, wafting over the back of his neck in a glacial mist. He slams into the wall.

Sharp pain lances up his spine and forks at the small of his back, spreading like a hoard of poisonous butterflies that ravage his wings. Dark curtains twitch at the edges of his vision. Handy as extra limbs are, they've soon mastered how to hurt. Gritting his teeth, he blinks the spotty darkness aside, rooting his feet on the floor, feeling Rigel's energy roar within him. Flames sear the hairs on his arms, though they don't feel searing. They're light, feathery, as if they dance some kind of healing jig atop his skin.

They wash in sense, too. He throws a hasty arm over his chest, summoning a spherical shield to guard his still-delicate organs, then peers over its ridge with fluttering surprise awaking within him. No wonder Nathan hasn't taken advantage of his moment of recovery and attacked. He's not there anymore.

Instead, black and burning azure snag one another in stormy fashion several paces away, though the latter is more a pinprick than a blaze -- small yet deadly sharp. A blue arrow sticks out from Nathan's lower back. It leers at Fiesi, winks.

Father.

"Fiesi?"

Fiesi startles. He's half-expecting the voice to be that of Gelani Kynig himself, and so the pitch of it catches him off guard. A girl's voice. He crumples his shield and whirls.

His thoughts are such a fiery whirlwind that it takes him a moment to recall her name. She's crouched behind the throne, shoulders jammed against plain white marble, sword clutched shakily in her left hand. Ash and soot speckle her cheeks and darken the cream sleeves of her tunic, and her tan skirts cling limply to her thighs. Her burns gleam like smashed stars.

"What..." Sarielle's voice collapses in on itself as her luminous eyes dart between his features, soaking him in.

He allows himself a glance of his own and nearly chokes on a laugh. In contrast with his glowing skin, the ragged, loose clothes that drape him appear rather lame. Someone should've given him a fancy saving-the-world outfit. Or at least some visible muscle. "Oh, I'm dying," he informs her. Maybe that shouldn't have come out so cheerful. "In spectacular glory. What are you doing here?"

Fingers curled around the throne's edge, she peers out into the room, then ducks sharply back into her hiding place. Small jitters of fear seem to shrink her inward, yet her gaze is the same diamond-flecked steel it always is. "It's good to see you."

He doesn't know he needs the relief in her voice -- a rush of feeling, tight but flowing, a waterfall caged in by thick rock -- until it hits him. Guilt pools at its base, but the fire smothers too much for it to ache. Apology would help nothing anyway, for either of them. Even in his dreams, his sorries were stray leaves in a storm.

Heat fans around him, alight with Rigel's tug, and he lets those gushing waters drip through his fingers. "You need to get out of here. This is dangerous."

She gives a vehement shake of her head. "I'm not going anywhere until I know this is over."

"Sarie--"

"I've made up my mind." She grips her hilt close to her chest, and Fiesi realises her expression is familiar. The grim set of her lips could be read as determination, but all her eyes shine with is loss. Her knuckles whiten. "Save Nathan," she says, her whisper fisted tight. "Please, Fiesi. I know he can be saved. I just don't have the power to do it myself."

Rigel's scoff shudders Fiesi's chest. It spills out from his lips as a clipped breath of a laugh. He nods, knowing the mess he must look.

Words won't come. His gaze breaks from hers. His wings spread, and then they're dragging him away.

Rigel's pummelling urgency tugs at his gut, shoving aside all thought of her, drilling in focus. With a beat of his wings, he's in the air, the figures below shrinking beneath his dangling feet. His father's fingers bleed the fire that makes up his bow, sparking string tremoring in the wake of a shot. Another arrow thunks into Nathan's bicep. His expression is hidden from up here, but Fiesi can clearly see the lazy gesture he waves at the arrow; it shrivels at the barest touch, dissipating into fragments of ash without a mark left behind. Black power slithers outward, and Gelani's bow snaps.

He slips, and Nathan is upon him, foot on his chest, flame painting dark flares where they touch. Gelani's jaw is locked, but his scream burns in his eyes.

By then, Fiesi is already moving. His dive is sharp enough to lurch his stomach, but that means very little when his feet crash into Nathan's ribs. Nathan flies backward, smacking his face on the carpet as he skids across it. He springs back to his feet, but Fiesi is faster. His toes barely touch the ground before he grabs Nathan's forearm and hoists him upwards.

Nathan thrashes and snarls, suddenly more wild dog than human. Fiesi loops an arm around his neck, grappling with him as his wings fight to push him higher. He squeezes until he can feel the bony curves of Nathan's throat pressed against his skin.

"Only I get to trip up my father, you slimy son of a sea snake," he hisses.

Nathan's laugh strains, compressed, until Fiesi can feel its rattle. His voice rasps. "Is that right?"

The ceiling is so near. Fiesi squares his shoulders, his legs tangling with Nathan's as he zeroes his gaze upon its ornate, gold-gilded surface. His flames circle him in readiness. Once they're out in the sky, in the open, away from everyone else--

Stinging pain sinks into his forearm, grating its way over his nerves. Nathan's fangs. He cries out, desperate not to lose his grip, but it's grown slippery. A strip of flesh tears away a squirming elbow thuds into his nose, and then his arms are empty.

Blinking back the rush of tears that arise from the blow, he twists to watch Nathan fall. It's almost as if the serpent within him is showing off, entirely free of worry; he turns a full circle in the air before landing in a neat crouch, any judder in his legs well-concealed, a mocking grin thrown upward as their eyes meet. He straightens with sauntering ease, then turns.

Fiesi drops to meet him, though his own grace seems to be evaporating. A jolt shoots up his calves when his feet hit the ground. He stumbles, wings flaring wider to catch him.

The edges of Nathan's smile curl inward like torched paper. Exasperation swirls around him, his glee pockmarked by annoyance, his fists curling. He folds his arms somewhat petulantly. "The weight of wings is too heavy for you to bear, Fiesi. Give in. There is only one victor here."

Fiesi's heart scrabbles, tipping the lid of panic. Rigel's fear is sour on his tongue now. The horrible thing is that Nathan is right: a bitter haze swamps the entire room and even the rest of the castle beyond, shards of glass scattered amongst his vivid senses, battering down the candle-flames of every other soul but his own. A dimness settles as the chandelier's feeble lights flit in smaller. Fiesi is sure the dark has shape, not all fire but more beast-like, prowling and snapping teeth that chew at the edges of his own wild flames. He curls his fists in, heels bouncing like he's back in that cage. Dripping blood runs a collection of rivers down his forearm.

"No wit now?" Nathan clicks his tongue. "Shame."

He flicks his fingers, and a drifting string of his flame snaps taut, looping in spiralled, smudged black coils as it bunches in close to him again. Its end is wrapped around Gelani's leg. Crimson douses the places it digs in and so many other places, blotting dyes of blue and cyan until he's coloured like a sky with too many ugly sunsets. His nose is crooked. His flame is barely visible, a few fluttering sparks at his weakly clawing fingertips.

His stare is unwavering. Fiesi is sure it drills in between his ribs, the same as it always is: cold, dark, oceanic. Expectant. Except this time the ocean is wet, and it froths with fear.

Nathan lays a foot on his head. Dark flame leaks from between the folds of his bandage, lashing with claws of their own. His toes wriggle, shifting strands of Gelani's matted brown hair. He hardly makes a sound.

Tension is a cord tight around every one of Fiesi's muscles. It pulls hardest at his wings, yanking them into a nervous flutter as Rigel's presence hammers alongside his heart. He fists his flame close and then pushes outward with it, spooling out all of that excessive power as fiery hands to shove against cage walls. He forces a step forward, his light shining fierce as it clashes with Nathan's circle of shadows. The flame haloes him, safe and secure and winning out in beating the darkness back, but it can do no more. The air around him tingles with heat as fury and desperation overlap.

A wince cracks Nathan's confident mask. His foot gives a hard shove, smearing the blood streaming from Gelani's broken nose across the carpet. He flicks up a dark glare. "Stay in your place, Fiesi. I will deal with one Kynig at a time."

Fiesi swears. If his father wasn't presently having his skull crushed by a corrupted snake god, he'd likely be reprimanded for the severity of this particular string of curse words, but as it is he's beyond caring. His mouth fills with bitter satisfaction. He holds his ground, twin souls howling in unison as azure streaks whirl around him.

Little Kynig. Rigel's voice is a hot breath in his ear. You will burn yourself out.

A chill snaps at Fiesi's cheeks. He forces them to warm, flames ripping through the flesh on his arms and bridging his nose until they blur his vision. Isn't that the whole point?

Fiesi, I do not believe we can win.

A chunk of ice drops into Fiesi's gut, scraping all the way down. With a jolt, he realises not all the cold that dusts it is a result of his partner's sinking dread; something else bites at his throat, separate from the smoky energy that surrounds Nathan, eking acrid fumes and tapping like an impatient finger at his shoulder. He dares a glance, letting his flames abate enough to allow him a clear view.

Sure enough, a dark-cloaked figure lurks in the throne room's doorway, arms folded and back propped against one side of the wide arch. He flickers in and out of view, a false veil shimmering over his face as if he's formed of shadow himself. His blank green gaze pierces all the same. Fiesi barely stops himself from flinching as their eyes connect.

He thinks of Sarielle, of the grief in the hard lines of her face and the undying hope in her voice. A sigh hisses out from between his teeth. There's one last thing I can try.

Rippling shock tickles the feathers on his wings, his heart burning as Rigel tenses. The bird's presence sifts through his thoughts with a grating wariness. The rogue cannot be trusted, Fiesi.

Trust is a bold word. Power hums in Fiesi's ears, wrapping his fingers as he braces himself. Our interests simply align.

His fire surges, crashing with the force of a tsunami. His crossed spears flash into existence and then burst, blowing the chandelier's lights above so bright he feels the pop in his chest as each of them shatter, until azure floods the space in a way that shoves the empty dark into faraway nooks and crannies. Nathan jumps back with a shout, leaving Gelani behind as he retreats a few slow, reluctant steps. Anger shutters low over his scaled face. His lip curls back, revealing the full extent of his scarlet fangs, as a growl rears up in his throat.

But those aren't Nathan's fangs, nor are those Nathan's scales. They are a curse, a disease. They are every nightmare. But Fiesi isn't a boy chasing nightmares any longer. He's a man who can fly.

He lunges, and his hand curls around Nathan's wrist. His flame is already primed at his fingertips, and now it charges in a thick, bubbling stream, pressing indents into pale skin as his grip tightens. Nathan's feet scrabble as he tries to yank free, his hiss of pain winding serpentine through the air between them, but Fiesi refuses to let go. Everything is anchored on not letting go, and that makes holding on surprisingly easy.

Rigel's voice crackles into static when it tries to break through. Even he is pushed along with the fire's tide, his essence tangled up in Fiesi's iron will. He can protest about that later all he likes. It's about time the bluebird learns what it is to be the puppet.

Sorry, bud, he tosses out into the stream, unsure if the words can be heard amid the flame's roar. I made a promise.

Cold rings ruminate at each point of contact, growing in strength as the dark wells of Nathan's eyes blacken. He leans in, arm drawn across his chest and fastened in place, as he flicks out a forked tongue to taste the scorched air. Fiesi seizes that advantage of closeness and grabs Nathan's opposite shoulder, heat rapidly eating through the velvet-black beginnings of the sleeve there and laying their barbs in his flesh. Blue fire jams into his veins, pushing up against the ice-cold blackness like a pair of battering rams, horns tossing and drawing blood where they collide. Fiesi's world flashes searing azure, and he deems it time to close his eyes before he loses them to the blaze.

Perhaps the sun would be irrelevant here even if he could see it. He is the sun, or any other flaming star, and his skin is struggling to cage in that colossal inferno. He trembles. The bones in Nathan's wrist feel like they're molten on his squeezing palms.

Kill... Rigel's voice dives out and, finally, back into clarity. You will kill yourself before you kill her. Panic circles him, a chaotic ball in the base of Fiesi's core.

I'm not trying to kill anyone. All I need is to separate them. Sparks singe as deep as his stomach and as high as the back of his neck, stinging everywhere. He wrings out his core, pushes harder, teeth gritted so hard they might crack. Rakis can deal with their mental entanglement. I divide the flame.

At least, he hopes Harlow knows what he's doing. This might be the singular time he'll ever be grateful for the murky talent of mind reading.

A scream nearly shatters his focus. At first, he thinks it to be his, then realises his throat doesn't burn as hoarse as it should. He teases open his eyes and locks onto Nathan's stare.

Gone is the snarling fury that coiled up in his gaze before. Now, halting pain is all that registers, flickering like lightning and shattering his face into a broken mirror image of what he was. Through the cracks, bewilderment shows. There's an innocence to the black swirl of his eyes, and it tugs sharply at Fiesi's heart.

Make him feel something for you, Harlow said.

The fire tangled in Fiesi's bloodstream gains a new warmth, one softer and yet all the more fierce. "Nathan." His nails dig in, and Nathan squirms, though the rest of him is stiff. "You can hear me, right?"

It's hard to tell whether the dip of Nathan's chin is imagined. His movements are all too jerky, devoid of sense.

Faith is all Fiesi has to cling to regardless, and so he holds on tighter, hands glued to Nathan's hot, flaking skin. "If you can hear me," he calls, "follow my voice. Pull away from her and come back to me." Those last few words splinter his tongue. He might be crying, but he can't tell. Everything is hot and cold and powerful, shivering painfully in his bones.

Blades of flame wrestle through his veins and spill out around his fingertips. Red, charred blotches crawl outward from the contact, patching Nathan's forearm. A flinch jerks them both, but they've gone too far to let go. Fiesi's flame is a rampaging beast in his chest.

Nathan's expression twists, and the sharp glint of Shaula's glare surfaces along with a sparse smattering of scales. One of the serpent fangs is half missing, as if its hooked point has been cleanly severed. "Why would he wish to come back to you?" he hisses. "What can you give?"

Fiesi bares his teeth. "Shut up."

Perhaps in answer to her prickling questions, or perhaps simply because he can't hold back the urge any longer, he lets his grip slide further up Nathan's forearm and then throws flaming arms around his chest. The places they touch suddenly increase tenfold, and so much more of his flesh catches alight. His flame buzzes around his heart, and so he shoves in everything he can gather as fuel. He thinks of snow-capped mountains and frost-nipped air, of melting ice trickling down the back of his neck and a shockingly easy laugh building in his throat. He thinks of Nathan's wandering fingertips, stretched high above his head and brushing through flurries of snowflakes. The simple wonder in his eyes, like no-one else. His soft, teasing smile.

There isn't anything Fiesi can give, really. He doesn't need to. Nathan has always been the person he is, and nothing about that should change.

He squeezes tighter, sure he's crushing Nathan's ribs or burning up bone or something equally destructive, but he can't afford to hesitate. Sheer power is what he needs. Nathan can take it. Just come back.

The resistance his flame tangles with abruptly fades, mist and then nothing. His fire stumbles to a forced stop. He hears himself breathe again.

Nathan goes limp in his arms.

Fiesi doesn't realise how deafening the world had become until all the hissing and crackling drops away, leaving him to pedal in a daggered quiet. His flame fizzles into sparks, the core of the blaze shrinking close to his skin, flickering shallowly with his own nerves. His wings are curled in two half-moon shields around Nathan. He yanks them in to his back. They're stiff and heavy, as if knuckles decorated with shrapnel punch at the parallel lines they sprout from. His muscles creak.

Shakily, hesitantly, he loosens his embrace, keeping one arm slung around Nathan's shoulders to continue dragging him upright. His hand latches under Nathan's chin and lifts it. His eyes have fallen closed, his expression slack.

A more lively, wriggling kind of pain snakes Fiesi's lungs, drawing them tight. "Nathan?" he breathes.

Nothing, but another presence shifts in the corner of his mind, leaving sticky trails where it slithers. His spine tingles. He eases Nathan to the ground, then turns slowly, heart still pounding from the overwhelming thrill of the flame's rush.

A black serpent lies coiled before him. Her scales are miniature voids, devoid of shimmer save the occasional chink of starshine silver, and her slitted eyes are darker still. Her body is thicker than his thighs and many times longer. She rears back with a hiss as he looks her way, mouth gaping open to reveal her fangs. The thinnest end of her tail flicks from side to side.

But she's only a snake. A grim smile tugs at Fiesi's lips as he steps forward, his fire swirling into the shape of a narrow, azure sword he points down at her. He tries to laugh, but it falls flat. His wings sink at his sides, and he's certain his eyes are blank when he surveys her, glazed by nothing but the same stony hatred that hardens his blade.

"You're powerless now, Shaula," he states. "It's over."

Her dark eyes stare, and her words grate over his thoughts, mockery clicking through their syllables. I am never powerless, Fiesi Kynig.

Without warning, her body swells. Black strings of fire bleed from her cracking scales and eddy around her, flashing black and adding armour to the oppressive darkness. Hurried shouts bounce around the room as the other Tía scramble to drag one another out from beneath the many colossal loops of her body, speckles of coloured flame thrown up in feeble defence, but there's nothing any of them can do to prevent it. Disbelief clogs up the air with the thickness of smoke.

The ceiling bends beneath the arched rise of her head, scattering a fountain of dust, and finally she stops growing. The fire, however, refuses to disappear. It lurches from every shadow, wielded by no-one human but dripping with the same bitter, broken scents as always.

Fiesi's breath catches in his throat, lodging there in a thick lump. Rigel quivers in his core. A flurry of sparks dances the length of his drooping blade and whirls at his fingertips, a result of their combined confusion and fear. All he can find to say is, "This isn't possible."

It's hard not to see a grin as Shaula shows off her fangs again. Now, the teeth alone are as large as his entire body, and they glint with the desire to skewer him right through the middle. There is no such thing as impossible when you are as free as I.

Fiesi thrusts up his blade. His wings snap out wide. His heels tingle and bounce, ever aware of Nathan slumped behind him, still unconscious or dead or something in between. He feels as small as he always has in his dreams, but somehow his hands don't shake. Rigel's presence grows more certain, steadier, as if wrapped in a grim, iron-like resignation. His stomach flips. The thunder of his heart pounds in his ears.

Is this what heroism really feels like? His insides are a tumultuous storm. He wants to be sick. Why did he ask to stay in control again?

Shaula's awful laugh rings shrill, rattling his skull. Now the true fight begins.

Her huge mouth snaps wide, and she lunges straight for him.

───── ⋆⋅♛⋅⋆ ─────

This was something of a ride to write. Is Nathan still alive? Is Fiesi about to get skewered? Tune in next week to um find out or something like that.

- Pup