Katamen's square isn't the only place drained of activity. Most of the streets are eerily quiet, doors bolted shut and unlit candles visible through rain-stained windows. It's like the entire village has become a series of cages, and Neyaibet's soldiers their guards, pacing the cobbled paths and quizzing anyone they see outside of their homes.

Cody explained that this is their way of keeping Katamen safe, whatever their twisted view of safety is. In reality, it's more a way to check up on each resident and ensure they aren't trying anything unauthorised.

It's a relief that I've gotten good at hiding, or they would have more than a few questions for me.

Hood pulled low and dagger concealed at my hip, I crouch inside the narrow porch of Katamen's tallest building. Most squat low to the ground, stretching out long with flat thatching for roofs, but this one is built differently. Rather than stone, the walls are wooden panels like much of Threlkeld, and they stretch upwards, coming to a sharp point of beams that jut into the sky in a similar fashion to the trees in the village's west. Before Neyaibet came, this was an inn, designed for travellers passing through. It still is, though in name only. Soldiers have taken over all the rooms on the upper floor and often reside in the tavern below. Occasionally, residents do slip in, but it is often only a hasty visit. After all, a soldier's blade is never far from their hand.

The tavern sells a drink called ale. According to Cody, the soldiers are more dangerous after a few mugs of it. It must hold some sort of dark magic to befuddle the mind in such a way.

It is still too early in the day for drinking, but voices drift faintly from inside. Two females, one male. The latter belongs to the innkeeper, who Cody has already visited to inform of my plan. All I need to do is wait for his signal.

Raucous laughter suddenly bursts out from the tavern, and I flinch back, pressing my back into the corner and ducking into the shadows. Since I picked off all the silver thread from my tunic during my time in the forest, not wishing for another scenario like Aiden, I am dressed entirely in black. The colour is useful, for once. It conceals.

The paler shade of my mask is an anomaly, but I can't remove that. I'm grateful Cody didn't suggest it. I'm not sure what explanation for its presence I could have offered. I touch it now, checking it still lies firm over my face. Being recognised now, with what I plan to do, would spell disaster.

A scraping sound shrieks through the air, cutting right through me. Boots clack against floorboards. I hold my breath, motionless.

The footsteps draw closer, the conversation briefly silent. My heart races. I curse how loud it thumps in my ears.

If all goes to plan, I won't have to fight anybody until I rejoin Cody, but my hand still drifts towards my dagger. Plans never entirely work out. As long as this one doesn't fall at the first hurdle.

The door creaks. My fingers close over the hilt.

Out of the doorway steps the innkeeper. I relax. He emerges glancing over his shoulder, a smile plastered on his face, but it falls as soon as he turns. His eyes widen briefly as if he's surprised to find me there, but he isn't. He shouldn't be. Perhaps he simply wasn't expecting Cody to be telling the truth.

Gaze firm, he gives me a soundless nod. I return it, shifting out of the corner. He closes the door with a soft thump before he hurries away, the clatter of his boots on the cobbles slowly fading.

As soon as he's gone, I stand, taking care not to attach more than muffled noise to my movements. The voices resume their chatter from inside the tavern. Carefully, with the gentlest tugs, I peel off the first of my gloves.

A glance back confirms no-one is passing the porch. The angle of the sun combined with the broad shelter overhead keeps it shrouded in shadow. Still, if an observant soldier passes, they'll see me. All the more reason to get it done fast.

The second glove is quicker to remove. I toss them both to my feet, then rub my hands together, trying to summon some heat out of the wintry cold and damp hanging in the air. Even without the threat of getting caught, my skin already itches with that exposed feeling, although my flame revels at the chance to rise to the surface. I shove down its icy wave, focusing on a single spot at my right palm.

Neyaibet have carved the opportunity themselves, really, by picking a building so flammable.

Fire sears under my skin. In a swift motion, I press my palm to the panels just as the spark slips out, briefly black before it disappears into the wood. Heat simmers out from the place it meets. Stepping back, I yank at that heat, feeling it blaze in my core a second before it flickers to life from a crack in the panels.

It climbs out, wavering tendrils that spread with ease, rising higher the more I pull. A smile flickers over my lips. I don't think I'll ever get tired of this feeling.

It gives a loud crack, jolting me from my trance. I spin around. Miraculously, no-one has noticed, although a hush has fallen in the tavern. I snatch up my gloves and dash out of the porch, dragging the flame with me as I round the corner and throw myself into the gap between this and the next house. It is even smaller than the space Cody shoved me into earlier, but I shuffle in sideways, wriggling past the jutting stones that make up the wall behind. Fire tears through the smoother wood in front. Its heat wafts over me, and I jerk my head to the side, choking on smoke.

"I'm alright," I whisper, audible to no-one but me, buried under the panicked shouts filling the street I've left behind. "Breathe. I can breathe."

I'm not quite sure how I know it -- this certainly isn't an activity I've tried before -- but it proves right. When I focus, calming my pulse, I can take in air just as before, as much as its taste clogs my throat. I brace my hands on the wall before me, drawing out all the fire I can. My eyes sting, but I can breathe. The air is hot, but it doesn't burn.

Flames ravage the tavern inside. I can't see it, but I know how far they spread, their red-orange glow pulsing within me. The shouts of soldiers are meaningless noise in my ears.

A perfect distraction. With any luck, the fire will take a couple of them down for us.

Now for the second part of my task. I tuck my gloves into my belt; my bag is with Cody, out of harm's way. I'll need the flame's protection for now. Black wisps are already burrowing out from under my skin, battling back the brighter fire.

In the haze of smoke and fire, I can barely make out anything more than my own hands. I feel along the wall, edging sideways, catching the occasional voice rising above the blaze's roar in my ears. Everything is smudged orange. I blink hard, gritting my teeth. Lit fire may leave contentment stirring in my chest, but outwardly, it pricks as fiercely as sunbeams. Needle-like pains litter my arms.

But I need to focus. Squinting through the fire, I tilt my head up, just about able to make out the tip of the roof and the shape of the upper floor, not yet alight, below it.

Someone screams. I flinch. Focus.

Drawing a swathe of flame close to me, I suck in a sharp breath and step up. The air's smoky tang engulfs me, scratching at my lungs. Fingers sliding into a scorched hold in the wall, I yank myself into position and keep breathing.

One deep, careful inhale. Held as I tug at the flame's leash, burning away a foothold. The exhale comes with another upward step, arms straining, fire coiling tight in red and black ribbons.

All I have to do is keep going, repeating that sequence, moving up the wall steadily. If I lean forward and let the blaze swarm around me in just the right amount, I won't be visible from the ground. They will see nothing but the occasional shadow melded with the flickering mass engulfing the building, climbing ahead of me. Yet being spotted isn't entirely what thrashes my heart in my chest. Wind rushes at my back, too flimsy to prevent my fall.

Clenching my teeth, I dig my grip in further and wrench my leg up again. The tension in my knuckles aches.

As I pass the first floor's ceiling, I make the mistake of glancing down over my shoulder. The dizzying sight freezes me. It can't be that far down, and yet the ground is already a whole world away, rocking and spinning under the fire's grasp. The wood suddenly feels brittle under my touch.

Bitter laughter echoes in my mind. The monstrous Anathe, who can kill with one touch, is paralysed by simple height. I'm still a fool.

With a shake of my head, I clutch for the dark fire's comfort, letting more leak from my hands and lash my grip in place. I can do this. I've just got to keep climbing, and then this will be over.

But before I can pull away from the scene, a flash of movement catches my attention. A soldier, her shrieks cutting across the crackling rasp, flapping her arms madly. Fire swallows them, licking at the skin. My lips twitch. It's an almost comical sight.

Maybe its burn will eat its way through her before she can put it out. One less enemy for us to deal with later.

A fresh wave of heat drives a miniature knife into my side. I jerk into the wall, shoving aside the thought as a tremor laces my spine. Loosening my grip the slightest amount, I stretch out my focus and flick the fire in my direction, reducing it to a sprinkle of ash. The soldier collapses, panting, red and raw but alive.

Killing people is still wrong, whoever they are. I wrench my gaze back to the wall and continue moving. My lower arms are barely visible for the swirl of bright sparks and shadow that swallows them.

The panels are beginning to creak under my weight. Sweat slickens my grip. I cling on tighter, pushing up another step as I reach for the fire below. It battles me, dragging searing claws through my chest. I beg it to retreat just a little, to rear away from the wood's centre and keep it stable enough to hold me, but I'm losing control. Slowly, far too easily, I can feel it slipping from my grasp.

I shouldn't have gotten distracted. Just that short pause may have cost me. Panic seizing my heart, I shove at the wall before me, mustering all the flame I can to slice a hole through to the other side.

Smoke spills out. I gasp sharply; the fire that seethes with it burns, truly burns, leaving its screaming mark over my arms.

It isn't my fire anymore. It has a bite of its own.

My black flame fights it, soothing the heat with coolness and lashing out, but I can't let it stray too far lest anyone below see it. There will be no recovering this if a soul in this village realises what I am. I'll simply have to do what little work I can and endure the burns for now. I hiss in a breath, then cough it out, lungs desperate for clean air.

The wood splinters below. I need to move.

Blinking hard, I grasp through the grey clouds that billow around me, and my nails scrape over floorboards. I throw as much of my body weight as I can onto the floor and push up with my legs, only for my footholds to crumble away. Air is their helpless support below.

I dangle out of the hole, only my outstretched arms to support me. My muscles ache. My breaths wheeze.

What if I fall? My flame might heal my wounds, but that doesn't mean I won't suffer their agony. Or the consequences of being seen by another.

With nothing else, I reach for all the flame I can gather inside and wrench it to the surface.

It doesn't come in its usual, flicking form. As it slips out from between my fingers, it is more solid, like a thick twine of thread. No thought goes into my movements. I let go of my hold, and for a second, I'm sliding backwards, freely falling. But I don't scrabble for another grip. I grasp only the fire's thread, curling both hands around it.

An odd sense of calm thrums through me, empty of fear. I know the flame will protect me. The thread jerks taut, and I stop falling.

It is all that holds me as I hang over the ledge. The lit flame answers my call again, rising to hide me. I climb up the black thread like a rope, like it is easy, like I don't have my weight dragging me down. A strange lightness has overtaken my thoughts. Perhaps I won't fall. Perhaps I'll fly. Why can't my flame be capable of such a feat?

I don't particularly want to take my chances, however. As soon as I've clambered through the hole and entered the upper floor, every part of me firmly touching solid ground, I collapse, hugging the floorboards.

My chest heaves, throat rasping. For a moment, I allow my eyes to screw shut, welcoming the ability to cover myself in an icy blanket of black flame. There's no-one up here. If there was, I would have felt them by now. Only the fire of my creation is here to keep me company, bending to my wills, heat shifting away as I take in several much-needed inhales.

I flip over onto my back and force my eyes open. Blazing beams criss-cross above me, chunks seared out of them. It would be just my luck for one of them to fall now and crush my ribs.

A shaky laugh draws from my chest. "That was fun."

After another long, deep breath, I sit upright, surprised at the ease of the movement. All the aches I felt before have vanished. Flames lick at the air around me, but veer away before they can get too close, smoky wisps coiling back on themselves. It isn't overly difficult to maintain a tight control on this section of the blaze. It means letting the rest of the fire reign freely over the building, but as long as it forges a path for me, I can allow that to happen. Now I'm up here, I don't have to be long.

I jump to my feet and step forward. Fire floods the space behind and skitters back ahead. In the area it clears, the charred remains of a rickety bed are revealed, a grey scrap that was once a blanket draped over it. But what catches my eye is the glint of metal just beneath, a dark twinkle akin to a night sky over lamplight. I dive towards it, snatching the sword up by the hilt.

Turning the sword over in my hand, I notice the sheath laid empty beside it, tucked under the bed. It somehow escaped the flames. I throw it over my head and slide it down, settling it into place overlapping my belt, before slipping the blade into its holster.

I don't have time to adjust to the weight; a hiss reminiscent of sheeted rain shudders through me, hammering at my insides. They're starting to put the fire out below. Keeping the evading flames rising high over me, I crouch down and find a bow resting by the bed's leg. It takes a second to sling it over my shoulder, and another to locate its companion, the patched quiver. Its remaining arrows tumble into one corner as I lift it up, grunting at its surprising weight.

Fire trails me as I return to the hole. Crouching at its edge, no longer fearful of the steep drop or creaking panels, I turn my gaze down to the thatched roofing that spreads out below. Its edge above the wall has been singed a little, but otherwise the fire has listened to at least one of my commands. It skirts around the houses. Only the inn is to suffer damage.

I toss the bow and quiver downwards. They land softly on the straw. With any luck, Cody will be along shortly to collect them. But not yet. My job needs to be done before he arrives.

Spinning on my heels, I dart back inside, not allowing further time to dwell on what lies ahead as I root through the upstairs rooms. As predicted, I uncover confiscated weapons tucked away in every corner. The soldiers have at least one person posted in the inn at all times, and with it being the place they sleep, they are confident that no-one will manage to get up here. Too confident. It's their undoing.

In the midst of leaning over a cabinet to retrieve a patterned spear, I smirk. Then again, they most likely weren't expecting anyone to set the entire building on fire and then climb it while it burns. It's quite the extreme measure to drive them out, reserved only for madmen and myself.

Finally, clutching a paper-thin knife acquired from underneath a scorched bedspread, I tense at the opening. Rain attacks my core constantly by now, squirming as each flame is extinguished. I try to shake off the sensation, cutting away the fire's control, and instead focus on drawing my black fire inwards and underneath my tunic. I can't hide amongst the blaze any longer.

Casting away any hesitation, I jump, reaching for the roof.

Straw isn't enough to withstand my force. My feet slip through, breaking out into the room below, and I hurriedly throw myself forward, yanking out my legs before I can fall all the way through.

The roof still isn't stable. Setting down the knife, I head for the edge, where the stone wall is sturdy. Fire crackles distantly from behind, merging with the persistent shouts or soldiers calling to each other over the noise. I'm so used to drowning it out already that I catch the closer, smaller voice with ease.

"Nathaniel? Please tell me that's you."

Sitting down on the top of the house's wall, if only to catch my breath, I break out into a grin. "It's me, Cody."

Realisation quickly yanks it away. There is scuffling from the front of the house, opposite the blaze, facing the next street. Pulling the sword sheath aside, I fumble for my gloves, letting out a sigh of relief when I discover them safely tucked still at my side.

I barely manage to get them on before Cody's mousy curls appear, accompanied by his twinkling eyes. My excitement is finally mirrored in him, his caution fading to unrestrained glee. With my heart still pounding in the reality of the thick smoke rising high into the sky behind me, I can relate.

His gaze locks onto the burning inn, and he shakes his head. "You're crazy."

Gripping the stone to keep my balance, I shiver, aimless adrenaline still buzzing through my veins. Now my fire's barrier is renewed, I'm distinctly aware of the sweat sheening my face and the clamminess of my skin. Rubbing absently at my arm, I glance back at the flames. "Yeah, I think I am."

Cody swings his legs up onto the roof, eyes roaming the weapons scattered across it. He lunges forward and grabs for a yellowish bow. A smile weaves across his face as he tests the string. "How did you do it?"

Pushing off from the wall, I inspect the nearest blade, hiding my expression. "Most people try to fight fire," I say, not entirely sure where the words come from. "I work alongside it. It's a partner, like you or me, a living force that will..."

I glance up, an odd flutter in my stomach. Cody is watching me with open curiosity.

"It will listen to you." I rub at the flat of the blade, noticing my reflection in it, those false green eyes. "If you're gentle, if you play it right."

Sliding a quiver over his left shoulder, Cody leans down, passing a sword below the wall. His hand returns empty. "You sound like you've done this before," he remarks, holding out a hand. His eyes sparkle with the edge of humour, but there is suspicion rooting his tone in place.

Eager to hold onto that humour, I laugh. "You could say that." I pass him the blade beside me.

A triumphant roar goes up from behind. Flinching around, I realise much of the blaze is shrinking, the front of the inn blackened but fire extinguished. A soldier steps out from the inn's opposite side, throwing down an empty bucket.

"Quick," I hiss, whipping back to Cody. He already has several blades gathered in his arms. He throws them to the ground with a clatter and grabs for another bow.

As I pick up the knife I placed earlier, the soldier's eyes rove our way. Her shout is too far away to hear, but it's enough to jolt me into action, scooping up a final pair of daggers and tossing them over the wall past Cody. He nods once and jumps down.

Footsteps pound. Part of me longs to send another swathe of fire out for them to deal with, but I risk damaging homes, and I have awaiting company on the ground below. Ducking away from the voices, I scramble after Cody.

My downward slide is more haphazard than I intend. The drop surprises me, and as I try to land, my sword sheath tangles with my legs and leaves me sprawled over the cobbles. Cody snickers as I struggle to my feet.

I shoot him a glare, rubbing at the heat crawling up my neck. "I'm good with fire, not gravity."

Another shout flies from over the house, and he cuts off any further laughter. We take off in sync. The strap of my new sheath slips down my waist with every bound, resting unsteadily on my hips. I hook a hand under it, trying to keep it from falling away. The sheathed sword knocks against my side. Maybe it was a bad idea to take it.

Cody's shoulder bumps mine, sending me staggering sideways. Annoyance quickly cools as I realise he's guiding me to the left, and follow him as he sprints ahead, leaping over a couple of discarded crates.

A tight street winds behind, shadowed by the houses. Three people are huddled in there, two brunette women panting over arms filled with weapons -- presumably handed to them by Cody before they ran the distance we just completed -- while the third stands with his arms folded off to the side. He is old, perhaps even older than Rovena, with silver streaks marking his thin auburn hair. My insides squirm under his hard gaze.

Cody greets the trio with a hasty wave. "They saw us," he whispers. "Let's be quick and quiet."

The women nod eagerly and creep out of the street, vanishing around the corner to the left. Cody follows, and with a nervous glance at the older man, I do too.

The opening leads out into the square, but we don't go that way. Instead, we immediately slip through a narrow opening and into an enclosed stone area, almost a house of its own if not for the lack of door and light seeping through a gap in the ceiling. The ashes of a recent fire are locked inside a metal grate at the closest wall. I try not to stare at it as I edge past, focusing instead on the people gathered within the space.

Their attention immediately gravitates to me as soon as I cross the threshold, as if I've stepped onto some sort of stage.

My gaze sweeps over their faces. Some young like Cody, some marked by wrinkles, perhaps retired soldiers like Rovena, although those are far rarer. The two women hurry amongst them, handing out blades and bows and spears. The weapons sit in their hands like dirt smeared over a painting, ugly, ruining the image with harsh edges of war. These residents aren't hardened warriors. They're just people, twitching with nerves, eyes roaming over me as if grasping for fragile hope.

Too fragile. Am I enough?

The air suddenly weighs like bricks. My skin prickles, the daunting reality of my situation settling. This is more than a fire and a thievery. There are others at stake.

My mind replays Fayre's dagger sinking into Rovena's side, the blood blooming there, her limp, the pain concealed behind her tight expression. I can't have others pay for me, not again. Maybe this was a mistake.

Cody catches my gaze. He stands firm by the grate, hand resting on his recovered bow, stance rooted in determination. A will to be courageous for himself, not for me.

None of them are fighting for me. This time, it is me who is joining on another's cause. I fight for them instead.

Pulling my shoulders up, I offer the gathered people what I hope is an assuring nod. I grip the hilt of my stolen sword. This is no mistake. I'm being of aid. Whatever happens, that is enough.

───── ⋆⋅♛⋅⋆ ─────

Me: So, Nathan, you're going to steal some--

Nathan: Can I set something on fire?

Me: I mean sure but--

Nathan, already whipping off his gloves: On it :D

Anyway, we're beginning our mission to fight back! Look at Nathan, committing arson for the greater good. Go him.

Do not try this at home, kids. Arson is not a good plan. Most of the time--

- Pup