Fiesi!

Rigel's squawk, laced with sharp urgency, jolts Fiesi from the darkness clouding his mind. He tears his eyes open and rolls over, glancing around wildly. Everything looks strange at first; it takes him a moment to realize that the forest is bathed in the weak light of dawn. Hazy gray clouds cloak the sky, and a layer of frost clings to the ground.

The fire Fiesi was next to has petered out. He shudders, wrapping his cloak tighter around himself. His bag is gone; there's nothing but snow-dusted dirt where it had been. Fiesi regards the area with a sinking stomach. He'd already been almost out of food, and he really had liked that spear.

That's not what's important, little Kynig, Rigel interrupts with a sort of mental growl, yanking Fiesi's attention to the side. Do pay attention to your surroundings.

What? Fiesi twists around, and his heart stops. A man is standing only a few feet away, hidden in the stretching shadow of the tree he's leaning against. His black cloak doesn't help—he looks like some sort of specter, silent and unmoving.

Fiesi scrambles backwards, terror shooting through his veins. He tries to smooth it over with a smile, rubbing his chest as his heart thunders against his ribs. "Oh. Hi. Why, uh... why are you watching me sleep? It's a little rude."

The man reaches up and flicks his hood back, looking Fiesi up and down. His light brown hair is mussed, and he clearly needs a shave. Despite his sorry state, he carries a sharp air about him. Still ugly, though.

"Who are you?" he finally asks.

"Uh..." Fiesi blinks a few times, not quite sure what to do. He settles for the obvious thing. "Finlay. Finlay Hunter."

The man pushes off of his tree and moves closer. Fiesi flinches, and then curses himself. He's still just on edge from what happened. This man is probably a Cormé scout for one of their armies, or is just wandering through the mountains. He looks like a traveler.

The man halts a yard away, his eyes glinting. They are the same shade of gray Asher's had been. "Your real name, please."

Fiesi stiffens, a distant whine of panic ringing in his ears. "That is my real name."

"No, it's not." The man's voice turns icy. "Your name, boy."

"I really don't know what you're talking about," Fiesi replies, allowing himself a nervous sort of laugh. Something's wrong. He reaches for his flame, ready to let it burst free and twist into his knife.

Then agony splits his shin. Before he can think, he's on the ground and the stranger is kneeling on his chest. A blade presses against his throat. With a flash of horror, Fiesi recognizes the faint energy sparking to life in the air. He twists, crying out another wave of pain lances up his leg.

"Name," the man repeats, low and dangerous.

"Who are you?" Fiesi gasps out, his thoughts blurred with hurt and fear. That magic. It's the same as Asher's—strange, abnormal, unnatural. His skin crawls.

The man shifts, and the agony grows ten times worse. Fiesi screams, unable to bite it back in time. It hurts. His flame flickers somewhere inside of his chest, and he clumsily reaches out to it.

Another line of pain opens across his neck as the stranger moves closer. His expression is blank. "Last chance, boy."

More weight presses on Fiesi's leg, and tears leap to his eyes. "Fiesi, it's Fiesi!" he yelps, his tongue betraying him. He can sense Rigel tugging against their bond, warning him, but the stabbing torture drowns it out. Terror is knotted around his stomach, squeezing so tight he can braely breathe. "Fiesi Kynig."

"And what were you doing on the ground?"

"Well, you know..." Fiesi tugs his attention up, meeting the man's eyes. He takes the opportunity to gather his flame, pushing it toward his leg as he bites out, "Getting my beauty sleep."

The man hisses and leaps back as blue fire flickers to life around the wound, burning away the pain. Fiesi allows himself a quick breath before scrambling to his feet, stretching the flames into a spear. He twirls it and spins around, trying to stab it through the man's chest.

The glowing blade skids to a halt, forcing Fiesi off balance as it twists to the side. He glances back up right as a fist catches his chin, sending him reeling back. The world flickers—he barely registers being slammed back into the ground. But he is acutely aware of the roots that burst from the dirt, snaking around his wrists and ankles and pinning him to the earth.

"Black hair," the man growls, crouching down. "Gray eyes, like me. Barely sixteen. Where is he?"

Asher? Fiesi's smirk isn't entirely forced this time. "What, did you lose your kid?"

"You're not hiding your fear well." The man's eyes pierce through Fiesi's, and he lifts the dagger again. Despite himself, Fiesi flinches. "I'll break your leg again if I have to, boy."

"I'll have you know I'm almost eighteen," Fiesi shoots back. "I'm not a boy."

Another splintering wave of excruciating pain forces Fiesi to scream again. This time, he hears the crack that accompanies it, feels his left shin snap. His fire rises to soothe the awful ache, but a foreign force shoves it back. He gasps, fear crushing his chest as the man's power cages his flame.

It's not right. None of this is right. It doesn't make sense.

"Yes, you are. Where is he?" the man growls, his eyes glinting silver for a moment. The energy swirling around him sharpens, digging into Fiesi's skin like a thousand tiny needles.

"Let me go!" Fiesi hates that it sounds like more of a plea than a demand. A childish, desperate, splintering plea.

A long sigh. "Stop ignoring me. You have three seconds before I break your other leg."

"No!" Fiesi shouts. He clamps his mouth shut, but the terror squirming through him wins out. Ignoring the dull buzz of anger from Rigel's end of their bond, he meets the man's cool gaze. "He knocked me out and left me here. I don't know where he went."

The man glances down for a moment, calculations flitting through his eyes. He looks over one shoulder. "What—no, who was he with?"

"I-I don't..." Fiesi falters, the hole in his chest widening. Right. He'd lost Nathan. How is he supposed to kill the Anathe now, when he's traveling with a boy who could send Fiesi to sleep with a flick of his fingers?

More pain splinters through Fiesi as the man pushes down on his leg. He yelps and squeezes his eyes shut, calling for his flame. Nothing happens. The empty hole in his chest widens, speared through with his own fear. He whimpers.

"Answer me," the man insists, his tone unwavering.

Fiesi hesitates for the barest second, but the weight of his agony overwhelms him. "Okay, okay! His name is Nathan. The Anathe. Whatever you'd prefer. Please—please, just let me go."

The seconds of silence that follow feel like years. Finally, the force caging Fiesi's fire fades away. The man gets off of him; Fiesi rolls onto one side, gasping for air. Relief floods through him as his flame surges back to his leg, devouring the pain in a flash of soothing heat.

"Tell me who he is." The man's standing now, his eyes fixed on Fiesi. "And stay down. It doesn't matter how often you heal your leg if I break it again."

Horror shoots through Fiesi at those words. He swallows thickly, staring at the dirt in front of his chin with wide eyes.

Don't tell him, Rigel warns.

Fiesi gnaws at his lip, ignoring his Synté. He doesn't want to die. He can't die. He hasn't finished. Slowly, he lifts his head. Nathan's face flashes before his memory, and pain and rage mingle in his heart. "He's a murderer. A monster."

"That's nice," the man says flatly. "Care to explain how?"

"His magic is twisted. Wrong." Fiesi presses his lips together, a shudder tearing through him. "It takes your soul and... and rips it apart."

A strange expression crosses the man's face, so quickly Fiesi almost misses it. "Is Asher dead?"

"No. No, he... I was trying to kill Nat—the Anathe. Save the world, you know?" Fiesi flashes the man a quick, nervous grin. His blank mask doesn't waver. "Anyways, he... got away, and ran into your kid. I guess they bonded over cursed powers, or something. Asher knocked me out. They took my bag," he finishes lamely.

The man raises a brow. "What's cursed about Asher's magic?"

"W-well, it, uh..." Fiesi tries to look as innocuous as possible while thoroughly regretting his words. After all, he's talking to someone who seems to have the same exact abilities. "Are you going to break my leg again if I tell you?"

"I'll break it if you don't."

"That's reassuring," Fiesi mutters. He clears his throat. "It doesn't make sense. It's just not natural."

The man lets out something like a laugh. "I see. So your magic: what can you do?"

"Uh... my fire?" Fiesi looks down at his fingers, where a few tendrils of azure flame have snuck out with his nervousness. Does this man really not know? "I control it. Where... where are you from?"

"And Nathan," the man continues, ignoring the question. "What are his abilities?"

"Fire, like me." Fiesi's eyes slide downwards, and revulsion spikes through him. They aren't the same. Not at all. "Except it's black. And if he touches you with it, you die."

The man crouches down, his head tilted to one side. "What does he look like?"

"Skinny. Dark hair. Freakishly pale. Black..." Fiesi swallows. "Black eyes. Pure black."

"And how old is he?"

Fiesi snaps his head up. His voice comes sharper than before. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I want to."

Fiesi hisses between his teeth, unable to hold the man's flinty gaze. "Fifteen, I think."

"Of course he is," the man sighs, standing back up. He starts pacing, flipping the dagger in one hand with practiced ease. "And Nathan didn't kill Asher because...?"

"He didn't touch your kid, I guess. He also has the—" Fiesi cuts himself off, but it's too late. The man's already noticed. He continues reluctantly, the words weighing heavy on his tongue. "He has these gloves. They can lock in his power."

"But you were still going to kill him?"

Fiesi bristles. "Yes. You don't understand what he can do. That fire is cursed. Evil. The Anathe has killed before with it, and he will again. The gloves are only a temporary solution."

"Relax. I'm not here to question your ideals." The man heaves another sigh, glancing at the clouds above. "My name is Rivas. I'm from Eldernia: Asher is, too."

"Sorry?" Fiesi squints up at the man—Rivas, if he's to be believed. The word slips over his mind, utterly meaningless.

"You asked where I was from. Eldernia is far from here, and the magic there works differently from what you're used to." Rivas glances down at Fiesi, his eyes cool. "Our powers are perfectly natural, I assure you."

Fiesi barely manages to stop himself from shaking his head. No ability this strong could be natural. Perhaps these people are Adeía, but in a different form. Or something. The revulsion and disappointment shivering from Rigel's end of their bond certainly supports the idea. Even so, Fiesi keeps quiet. He's not in the mood to get his leg broken again.

Rivas slips his dagger back into his belt, giving his cloak a sharp tug. "I need you to help me track those boys down, Fiesi."

Shock momentarily chases away Fiesi's voice. He stares up at the man, not bothering to hide his confusion. "Is this how you ask for help? I... well, I hate to break it to you, but your method is shit."

"I'm not asking," Rivas says bluntly. "I'm tracking Asher down, myself. Not to kill him, but I have to, ah, bring him back to Eldernia. He can't control his magic like I can. If he remains free, he could kill hundreds purely by accident. If what you said about Nathan is true, I'm sure you can understand."

Fiesi's throat goes dry. The memory of Asher's seething energy lingers. He can understand; even Rivas' suffocating power isn't as strong as that had been. At the back of his mind, Rigel agrees.

Rivas dips his chin, his eyes flitting across Fiesi's face. "If they're traveling with each other, and we're trying to find them, it would make sense to stay together. I'm sure you know more about this country than I do, and you clearly need help yourself."

"I do not," Fiesi protests, though it falls flat. This man's abilities are terrifying, but he can't deny the fact that having Rivas on his side would give him a chance to get past Asher and finally finish his mission.

Perhaps you could kill the other boy as well. Or even this man, if you get the chance, Rigel chimes in, albeit reluctantly. It is not like you have much of a choice, anyway.

Rivas raises one brow. "You were unconscious. On the ground."

"Maybe that was on purpose. You don't know," Fiesi sniffs. He bites his tongue, quite aware that he's still, in fact, on the ground. "If you suddenly want to be buddies, does that mean I can get up now?"

"Yes. But do yourself a favor and don't attack me." Rivas folds his arms, a hint of exasperation touching his eyes. "Or run."

"I would never," Fiesi says as innocently as he can. He sits up and then pushes himself to his feet, brushing snow and dirt from his cloak. "Okay. Fine. So I guide you, and you get Asher out of the way so I can kill the Anathe. Right?"

"Right."

Hoisting a smile onto his face, Fiesi sticks out one hand. "As long as you don't break any more parts of me, or kill me, or, uh... any of that stuff, we have a deal." He hopes he hides the bitter fear shivering down his spine well enough. Rigel was right: he doesn't have a choice. He just has to do what this man says and hope Rivas isn't a liar.

Rivas doesn't move until Fiesi awkwardly lowers his hand. "Good. Are you sure you don't know where they went?"

"No." Fiesi's eyes betray him, flickering to the sky. "But I have a way to find out."

After a rather exasperated pause, Rigel tugs Fiesi's attention to the left. That way.

Fiesi points, feeling a smile tilt his lips. It seems like he—or Rigel, whatever—can do something Rivas can't, after all. "They went in that direction."

"And do you know where that goes?" Rivas asks, his voice still annoyingly flat.

"Uh." As discreetly as possible, Fiesi sends another questioning thought Rigel's way. He gets a long, mental sigh in return before his Synté answers. Can birds even sigh? "They're heading toward a town. Threskeld."

Fiesi, Rigel interrupts. I said Threlkeld.

Close enough.

Rivas closes his eyes for a moment, and Fiesi feels a faint shimmer of energy pass through the air. "I see. Thank you."

"You're very welcome." Fiesi delivers a little bow to accentuate the point. "I do have an excellent sense of direction, after all."

"Not you. The one you're talking to." Rivas taps his head meaningfully before turning around, slipping past a few trees blocking the way to Threlkeld.

Fiesi chokes on his reply and hurriedly follows the man, nearly tripping over a root in his bewilderment. "Hey—wait—how did you—?"

Rigel's chirpy laugh rings in the back of Fiesi's mind. It's tinged with wariness. He's smart.

I'm smart too, Fiesi replies, almost smacking his face into a low-hanging branch. Rivas is fast. He's not used to desperately skidding around like this.

Sure you are, Little Kynig.

Fiesi curses under his breath, giving Rigel a mental shove. The air nips at his face; he allows a few flames to flare around his hands, warming him from the inside out. Letting his fire lighten his steps, he starts catching up to Rivas. Whatever is going on, he's finally managed to grasp some semblance of a plan. He's going to get past these strangers, and he's going to finally finish his first mission.

He's going to save the world.

><><

When did this get so long, help—

I had fun beating Fiesi up in this chapter :3 Unfortunately, it looks like he somehow got a new ally out of it. I'm sure he and Rivas will work just fine together, without any betrayals or hidden secrets at all :)))

Next chapter should be getting back to our angsty boys! We'll see if they finally get to that town and meet a certain retired soldier...