Fire. Rain. Chaos. As he fled through the disarray of fallen trees in the forest, these were his witnesses. These had become his obstacles. For the first time since his years in the sky, he wasn't hiding behind comfort; he wasn't trapped in a concrete stronghold. Now when he ran, he ran toward the things that frightened him.

A hefty branch fell directly in his path. Calcifer shielded his face from the explosive flames that burst from the dead evergreen. The action seemed instinctual - warding off a possible threat. Fire used to be his cohort. It was what fueled his life. Now, it was something that could destroy him.

He widened his eyes at the catastrophe before him. Orange glowed from high up in the trees, sending burnt leaves to their resting place below and branches crashing to the ground like waves against a wall of rocks. He reached his hand toward the burning branch, the extreme heat bursting with life. It called to him; it begged for him. As much as he sensed fear creep into his mind, the urge to unite with his other half was a stronger feeling.

The rain tapped him like a sharpened sword on his body. His dampened, orange hair felt refreshed by the cooling water. Water had always been the enemy; water was the only thing that could fully destroy him. He had never felt so peaceful in his oldest rival. It rushed down his bare skin, cleansing him of his impurities.

Then, Calcifer held his breath at a startling revelation. He was naked.

Though no one was around, he felt entirely exposed. This was a new feeling, along with the many others he had felt in his short time in this new form. Bare, soft skin. How he longed to touch another person, feel their skin and embrace them completely. Calcifer did not know what he did to deserve such a reward as this.

It seemed obvious that he wouldn't automatically be clothed, but the thought had slipped his mind. Nevertheless, Calcifer considered where he might find clothes. The Palace surely had some, though most were probably burned to ash at that point. He imagined the type of clothes he had seen before - black slacks, tan shirt, dark vest. This was the typical attire he saw most men wear, like Howl or Kenta. Calcifer was also fond of longer coats, and thought of an orange one to match his former self. He concentrated long and hard about them, knowing what was to come next.

A sense of relief washed over Calcifer as he felt the fabrics conceal his nakedness. Everything he envisioned wrapped around his body. Though in human form, Calcifer still held his magical properties. He had had this ability before, yet it never came into use for his own purposes.

The fiery branches still lay before him, blocking his path to the others. He inhaled deeply and held both palms forward, pushing them out toward the disaster. The fire turned to smoke as he controlled the flames and the branches disintegrated to splinters. This ability, though widely used to fuel his life, felt much different destroying another fire's life.

There was no time to grapple with sympathy. Time was limited. Calcifer rushed through the flames and rain, avoiding any instances that would halt his mission. His focus was only on his friends, and especially on one in particular.

Gwenda.

He needed to know she was safe, that he hadn't left them for dead in the Throne Room. He told Howl to take care of her - and he trusted him with his life. But still, he needed to know.

The Palace was not as far as he thought it was. The once beautiful exterior had been charred from the inside out, walls blackened and higher floors beginning to crumble. How he hoped he was wrong; how he wished they had gotten away.

Calcifer stopped as he entered the Throne Room. The flames had subsided, nothing left to burn. No signs of life, but also no signs of death, either. He relaxed his shoulders, his mind more at ease. Gwenda was safe.

But they were still separated. Wherever they had gone, whatever their next plan had been, Calcifer would not rest until he was there by her side.

The sky grumbled and flashes of light burst through darkened clouds. How a deadly fire and a tremendous storm could both rage on in unison was beyond Howl and everyone else who had survived the unexpected war of magicians.

Though void of any warfare, the battleground was anything but tranquil. While the dark magicians abandoned their post, those following the path for freedom remained to mourn the loss of their fellow magicians. From atop the roof overlooking the arena, Howl could hear the cries of those who lived, and as hard as he tried to ignore them he simply could not remove the image from his mind.

The wizard who slashed Lona before they interceded lay on the ground, one of his horns cut off and blood pouring from his mouth like a fountain. The Witch of the Wastes had finished him off, along with a few others who realized the deadly potential of Nolan. He was next to Nade when it came to strength, and found it easy to abandon previous morals. He would have caused much more damage had he continued their plot of destruction.

Kenta and Xarx joined Howl, both with more red on their bodies than skin color. Xarx removed his torn shirt, nothing left to it but shreds of cloth. Kenta stood firmly on one leg and bent the other, masking the pain he felt with a healing spell.

Xarx stood watch, waiting for any of Suliman's true followers to return with reinforcements. He knew that was only a portion of her army; the rest were returning from Ovela, and he wanted to make sure they were prepared.

Kenta sucked in a quick breath at the pain of closing his own wound. "Where are the girls?"

Howl cleared his throat. "Martha took them."

"What was going through Lona's head to make her want to fight?" He asked, his mind still reeling from witnessing such impulsivity. "She would have been killed."

"She loves you." Howl said, though he wandered his eyes to the deaths that surrounded them. "She would do anything to protect you. And I bet she's a lot stronger than you give her credit for."

"I know she's strong." Kenta said. His breath was heavy, like he needed to push the air out forcefully for the natural process to work. "But humans are completely unmatched against magicians. I couldn't let her die to save me."

Xarx looked between the two of them. While they spoke of love and family, he was more concerned with their current situation. "What's our next move?"

Howl turned to Kenta, but his eyes merely wandered around the massacre, attempting and failing as well to do what he had done since the first war - forget. There was always a plan; there was always somewhere to go or something to gain or someone to save. But now - Howl didn't know what to do now.

"Howl!" The three wizards stood in preparation for an attack, but the witch who shouted his name was not one of the enemies. Martha stormed in their direction, her eyes that of someone gone mad. "Go to Sophie. Now!"

"Where is she?" Howl asked.

"Where's Lona?"

Before she replied, Martha slapped her hand firmly across Howl's cheek. He bent to the side, his opposite hand immediately holding the reddened skin. He glared at Martha. She had proven time and time again her disregard for Howl. He didn't want to hold anything back.

"You cannot fight battles you think you will win." Martha said over the thunder. She lifted her chin to match Howl's gaze, not at all frightened by his height advantage. "You know your place, you know who needed you and you chose to abandon her."

"I did not!" Howl shouted, though Martha appeared unfazed by his fit of rage. "I fought for my freedom, same as any other magician who fought and even died for this."

"At what cost?" Martha said. "Half of your allies perished. War does nothing to satisfy anyone. Whether you win or lose, you will always suffer the deaths of your brothers and sisters who fought by your side." Martha pointed to the display below - the death, the mourners, the life-changing implications that would come from this occurrence. She clenched her teeth. "Now tell me, do you feel satisfied?"

Howl grabbed her wrist and forced her arm back to her side. "We defeated Suliman's army. Those who remained fled in shame. We won."

Martha pursed her lips. She shook her head. "Then you have your answer."

As she turned away, Howl reached for her arm once more. "Where is Sophie?"

Martha looked down to his grip, his hand soft but not willing to let her go until she answered. He was asking her to share a vision and disregard all she was taught about being a Seer. Her visions used to be accurate; they used to follow their design exactly as she witnessed in her mind. But not anymore.

For the first time, she did not know what the future held. "In the room where you created your child in the first place." When the last syllable was spoken, Howl was merely holding thin air. 

Everything seemed so close in the Wastes. The burning capital was not as far away as the magicians who lived there would have liked to imagine, and the sight of its crumbling walls only heightened the humans' concerns. Everyone had someone involved in that war, and everyone felt too powerless to do anything about it.

Gwenda covered her mouth, her hand shaking in awe, as a tower collapsed. It moved so swiftly, so fluidly to the ground below, sending up a cloud of dark smoke in its place. Only a few towers remained, and only time would tell when the final one would plummet.

Gwenda turned to the others. "We have to go back." Some looked at her oddly, some looked with hopeless eyes - but others stood with confidence. Markl for one, with Heen sitting next to his foot and his chin raised to the sky. Somer nodded in agreement, and only in this did George nod as well. Beth seemed skeptical, but Mari was on board with Gwenda.

Lona pulled her arm, bringing Gwenda down to her height. "We can't leave."

"Why do people keep saying we can't do things that they can?"

Lona widened her eyes. "Because that's just it, Gwenda! We can't do things they can. Magicians have powers for a reason and we don't. End of story."

Gwenda shook her head. "Powers or no powers, our friends are there and quite possibly dying as we stand here doing nothing. The more we waste time, the more chances we give Suliman to keep her reign."

"Why is this so important to you?" Lona asked, her voice pleading with her. "Why can't you just let Kenta and Howl and the others handle it?"

Gwenda scoffed. "Like you did running to Kenta's side and nearly killing yourself?" The harsh winds sent chills throughout the band of humans, many holding onto cohorts for warmth. Lona's long hair blew away from her face, her red eyes still shining above all the agony they witnessed. Years had separated them, anger and misunderstanding and loss - Gwenda couldn't bear losing her again, but she knew where her place was.

Lona took in a quick breath. "That was different. I would have given my life for Kenta because I love him."

"And I don't?" Gwenda said, her finger pointed to her chest. "You think you're the only one who might have lost someone today? I already did! Maybe I'm doing this because I have anger issues or I'm looking for a death sentence or whatever. Maybe, it just so happens that I love someone and he's probably dead right now and the only way I can make it up to him is by saving his family!"

Her voice lifted over the thunder and rain, silencing the crowd. The wind whistled and cut through the open air, thrashing around anything loose. Heen hid behind Markl's legs, somewhat intimidated by Gwenda's harsh tone. Her anger had quickly turned to misery, though, as she wrapped her arms over her chest and bent forward with a stream of tears.

He was gone - her only companion. The one person who listened to her complaints about Justin giving her false affection or Lona running off to be with Kenta or just everyday petty problems; the one person who listened to her dreams and encouraged her to be the person she aspired to be; the one person who listened to her deepest hidden scars and didn't take advantage of such voluntary trust.

The only one who continuously moved heaven and earth just to show her he cared - how could she repay him by doing nothing in return?

Lona raised her arms slowly, and with a gentle touch held Gwenda as close as her sister would allow. She dropped her face into Lona's shoulder, the muffled cries audible through the clinking raindrops. The others watched, waited in muted conversation, for a reaction. A word. An instruction.

Lona stroked her sister's short hair. "I didn't know you loved someone."

Beth coughed toward Mari. "At least it's not Prince Justin." Gwenda glared up from her sister's embrace to Beth, who merely dropped her gaze and shrugged her shoulders in embarrassment. "Sorry."

Gwenda stood straight. Part of her was frightened. More than frightened - she was utterly terrified of magicians and their power. But the other part, the one Gwenda had become accustomed to ignoring, told her this was the right thing to do. Whether she lived or died, she knew her place.

"I'm going back to Kingsbury." Gwenda shouted in a commanding tone. Markl and Heen stood by her side, the young wizard letting her know he knew the spell to transport them all back if they wished.

"I want to see my son, too." Somer said.

Mari took a step forward. "And I want to find my sister and her husband."

The others nodded, each taking a step forward to express their support. They knew the danger; they knew the possible outcome. And yet they were still willing to fight.

Gwenda turned to her sister. "Lona? Are you coming?"

Her eyes glistened above her smile, and though she shivered from head to toe, Lona also took her place at Gwenda's side. Markl waved his hand over the group, whispered his spell, and all had vanished.