As I walk to the center of Kodalia, I notice that the lights have all been dimmed, and the noises have all dwindled. Everybody must be sleeping. This may be what Kiara intended so that we may settle our squabble alone. The only light in this cave comes from the massive fire pit still brimming with flame. Kiara is staring at me as if I was the Blightlord himself. I notice Kenric marching around with a burlap sack- he is creating a ring around me and Kiara with ashes to provide a boundary. Then Kenric steps forward and tosses a handful of the ashes.

I see. They've recreated a proper duel often performed for sport instead of glory. Soldiers normally sparred between themselves in this same ring- warriors tested their skills in front of a large crowd in the arenas. Asreal held their duels and tournaments in the royal training grounds, surrounded by their peers and even the Flamekeeper himself- I joined my Father to attend several of these matches. The winner shall be whoever renders their opponent too weak to continue or whoever shall push the other out of the ring three times. I've never found the necessity of the ring and that confounded rule, but it was a time-honored tradition.

Kiara slowly unsheathes her sword, and its slicing sound nearly gives me goosebumps. As we stare at each other for a short while, the coldness of the cave gives me a slight shiver.

"Did you get the sword I requested, Kenric?" Kiara asks.

"Got it right here," Kenric says while stepping forward.

He then unsheathes a blade from the sheath on his hip. He carefully tosses it towards my open palm, and I catch it. It feels heavier than I expected. It looks newly made, but it has a simple structure.

"Now then, boy," Kiara says. "Show me what makes you a Netherbane."

Kiara raises her sword, the flat part of the blade facing me. I waste no time and press my sword against hers, mine facing upward to intercross our edges. This was how an organized duel between knights typically began in ancient times; pressing the blades together shows respect and trust that this battle will be won by whoever displays the better skill- like a handshake between wrestlers.

When we break our stances, Kiara and I circle each other slowly. I examine her stance and try to quickly look for a vital spot to strike without causing her lethal damage. She is trying to do the same from how she looks at me. But we both have the same stance- the sword facing away from our bodies with the right hand, our left hand in front of us for a defensive maneuver.

"Don't hurt her!"

I'm caught off guard by a familiar voice that rings in my ears, and I look over to Ameline, who cowers behind Duncan's leg. They're all here, gathering around us behind the boundary line. Duncan and Charlotte hold Ameline back, whose face is coated in blue face paint, probably from a game she was playing. Alistar and Roland are nearby, too, observing quietly.

Soon, Kiara points her sword at me, catching my attention.

"You took your eyes off me. I could've slit your throat."

"What's going on?" Duncan says.

"Leave 'em be," Kenric tells the others. "Everything will be okay."

Kiara stands still, probably because she's waiting for me to strike first- I'm waiting for the same from her. Soon enough, however, she sweeps her leg at my feet and nearly trips me, forcing me to step back. She leaps forward, her sword ready to slash at me. I parry her, watching sparks fly off the clashing steel. She's quick to toss attacks at me from all sides, keeping me on my toes. Her strikes have force behind them, but I feel restraint to keep her attacks light and focused so that she may save her stamina for a finishing blow. A practice that only a true master of combat utilizes.

We both dodge and chase each other around with Ember Steps- as soon as I leap, she's there on the receiving end, parrying me with a flick of her sword. A sting in my side makes me yelp, and I break my stance for only a bit. Kiara continues to Ember Step around me, twirling and flicking her blade like a feather. I swing with my eyes closed, hoping to feel my sword brush against her, but all I can feel are cuts forming on my arm and torso, even one on my cheek. They aren't deep cuts, but they're enough to sting. Soon, she appears before me after finishing her little show, but she only points her blade at me.

"What's wrong? Can't hurt an old woman?" she says with a smirk.

I gain the upper hand and begin to strike her with my offensive attacks, and it's enough to get her to back away from me as she is forced to parry me. I attempt to mimic her staggering move by sweeping at her leg, but almost like she read my mind, she leaps high enough to dodge. She keeps twirling and jumping around me, not even fighting me. Her blade looks like it's dancing along with her.

My body is shaking, yet I still clutch my sword. I grind my teeth, my head feeling so hot that my mind could begin to melt at any moment. I cannot even focus since I'm using a weapon that isn't my own, and I'm up against such an unorthodox fighter.

The fire pit gives me an idea. I use another Ember Step to leap high in the air. Everyone is staring at me in amazement. I have stored Vim within my right hand.

IMPERIUS!

A wave of Vim flies straight at Kiara, and I hear the crowd gasp at the sight. But before the fire reaches Kiara, she slashes at the light, her blade catches the wave. She twirls her sword around, the fire following the blade before she tosses the fire away and flies perfectly into the large fire pit. When I land, a shock rolls up my spine.

"Please," Kiara says with a drawl.

I take a few deep breaths, and the pain in the tiny cuts starts to feel tolerable enough to regain my stance. I ready myself for another one of her strikes. When we clash our blades together a few more times, I keep looking for an opportunity to strike. Finally, I'm able to push her back for a brief moment. Then I put all my strength into a rising slash.

Kiara catches my blade in her free palm. No Vim cascades over her palm, so I can see tiny crimson droplets leak out onto the floor. She has a tight grip and wrenches the blade from my hand. Then with my back turned, she cuts me again. This gash is so deep that I can't move a muscle- I drop to my knees.

The wind is making my wounds scream in pain. Kiara marches over to my view and stands before me unperturbed. But I can't stand up. She broke me down without even trying. And all that twirling around looked graceful, but it effectively delivered a series of blows. I've never faced a foe with such precision and confidence.

"You call yourself a warrior?" Kiara says. "You lack discipline, you're too aggressive, and you become desperate when overwhelmed."

Seeing her look so tall as she stares at me with those dark purple eyes, I can't think of anything else to try. Of course, she'll counter whatever I throw at her.

I can only imagine what they all must think. To see me reduced to what I am now must surely lower whatever expectations they have of me. Especially Ameline. And now that I have failed, the thoughts of all these people dying come to mind. I hear crowds of deathly cries, and the scent of blood seeps into my nose.

But seeing the ship gives me enough willpower to get back to my feet. It takes longer than usual, but I'm up again soon. Kiara is showing an even tighter frown.

"That's quite enough, Triton. Drop your sword."

"Will you take us to Mosleum?"

Kiara stops, looks over her shoulder to the ship, and then at the small crowd watching her. Then she shakes the emotion off her face and readies her stance again, just as I do mine. I just can't stop fighting her while the thought of Shadowhearts is on my mind. She comes at me first, and I parry her only a few times. Her strikes are getting heavier, or my body is weaker from all these cuts. I'm stumbling about trying to keep up with her, and eventually, I lose my footing and drop to the ground.

"Stay down," Kiara says while looking down at me again.

But I get back up again, even slower than previously- the image of all those Shadowhearts waiting in Mosleum gives me willpower. But as soon as I lunge at her, she leaps and kicks me square in the back of my head. I catch my balance, and though I'm disoriented, she's already out of sight. Then I feel a deep pain in my side, but it isn't a gash- it feels like a solid punch that passes through my muscle and strikes my kidney. I'm brought to my knees again, and I blink only once before Kiara appears again, having Ember Stepped in front of me. She plants her knee into my face, and I see the blood shoot from my nose.

I feel my head plant into the stone. I can't move- my fingers are twitching, and the wounds all over my body are screeching in pain from the wind. She's beaten me so terribly I'm left as nothing but a bleeding pile of flesh at her feet. Then, when I can see again, Kiara scowls at me, her purple eyes glowing with tenacity.

"You keep wanting to fight me. That's the Netherbane within you," Kiara says. "But some of us are tired of fighting. Look around you, Triton. Kodalia is the only place you can live. As people. Because out there, amid all that darkness, you're just prey. They get stronger every day as we grow older. What's the point of praying for salvation when there's so little left to be blessed?"

The sound of her sword scraping into her scabbard makes me wince. "Cinedime is hopeless. You'll understand soon enough."

Kiara turns to me as I feel the cold rock at my back. But even while I groan and blood flow onto the ground, I still have no intention of stopping. My muscles still move, and my mind is stuck on Mosleum. She's wrong. She has to be.

I only reach my knees before Kiara looks over her shoulder at me, not even angry or sad- she's emotionless, like a stone wall. My whole body shakes violently the more I try to stand up. When I finally reach my feet, I don't stand long until they give in to my weight. I can't look at them. All I do is stare at the ground. Then, for the first time since I can remember, I start to cry. I watch my tears fall onto the floor below me. Now I'm sure that they've lost all hope in me, just like that old man at the checkpoint. Just like Pirema. Just like Cinedime.

And for no reason whatsoever, I remember one other time I felt this weak, this useless. It was at a time when I faced a different sort of master.

"Stand up, boy."

I suddenly see myself staring into a bucket of water. My sight is blurry like a white fog has cascaded just in front of my face. My reflection shows me as a small child, without the similar innocence I would see in Ameline's face. My brown hair is shorter, and I have a protective vest made of a metallic base. There are gray circles around my eyes, reeking of exhaustion. And my face is riddled with blood and bruises, as are my arms- burn marks all over my breastplate. Finally, from the reflection, I see the image of the front face of a glorious palace of white bricks and massive blue flags, standing underneath the illustrious full moon.

Then I raise my eyes to see a terrifying but still admirable-looking man. A burning blue greatsword is clutched in his mighty fist. He has the same armor as me- his breastplate looks large enough to cover my entire body. His noble black haircut illuminates in the moonlight, and his beard is just as dark. A white wreath is around his forehead, with an emblem of a jeweled blue flame in its center.

I remember those pure white eyes. They only belong to Pontius Netherbane- the man I called Father- the only man I've ever feared.

We are standing on one of the walkways of our palace, where I trained for endless days in combat because I wasn't allowed on the training grounds at that age. I used to beg Father to spar with me, and only him, because nobody else was important enough to me in terms of who to impress. Those battle scars I would receive are starting to flood into my recollection, and those long nights of resting amid the comforting walls of my favorite monastery.

"You are not to rest until you have proven your training has not been wasted," Father tells me. "Once more now."

I reluctantly draw my sword. It is smaller than my current blade, but it still shines with the flame of the Calignis, much like his. His sword practically laughs at mine. I stand still as Father bares his free hand, and his palm begins to shine in a similar blue light.

"Do not hesitate any further," he tells me. "You have prowess for your age. But to become a true warrior, you must tap into what makes you a Netherbane. Prove that you have the spine to continue your training."

He dashes at me, but I dodge his giant blue sword. I repeatedly swing at him, and he blocks every attack. Then, he strikes me with his foot instead of his sword, but it still makes my small body sting in pain. Something makes me anxious as I sweat and stumble around. It surely cannot be fear. I have nothing to fear because he should have cut me by now. Yet, I'm still standing, even matching him at my young age. So it must be that I'm desperate to earn this man's respect.

"Show no mercy," Pontius shouts while swinging at me. "Be ruthless! Vicious, like a firestorm!"

Pontius tosses me to the side, making me stagger. But he quickly dashes at me again. I roll out of the way just to keep on my feet. I run at the man, shouting in my boyish tone. As I fight him, he swats away my sword with his free hand, still coated in Vim. My strikes are getting weaker, but I keep throwing more slashes at him, and he keeps striking them away.

Then, he grabs my shoulder and pushes me against the wall.

"Are you not my son? Or have you forgotten your purpose?"

I can't move. Either I'm petrified of his eyes or in too much pain. But no, that's not it. Something else is holding me back. That's when I remember something that has riddled me with guilt for quite some time. I remember a man with a long bushy beard and a face as jolly as his laugh. His name was Desmond, and he was my serf- he cared for me like an uncle since I was an infant and was always there to lend an ear when I wanted to express my frustrations with Father. He would teach me lessons like writing and dancing and advise me when he had the knowledge to spare.

Now I remember. Desmond was in the infirmary with a fatal injury. An injury that I caused.

"I... I don't wanna hurt you, Pa... like I hurt Desmond," I say with a tear rolling down my cheek.

"Foolish child. This is why we are here," Pontius tells me. "You have tapped into the true power of our people. I wish to see it with my eyes, and only then will I teach you what you must learn. Now do not let these meddlesome thoughts darken your vision, son. Look into yourself."

Desmond's charred body is making me cringe and almost let another tear. But Father gives my shoulder a tight squeeze. And then, just to avoid another strike, I close my eyes tight to see nothing but darkness. I concentrate and take long, slow breaths.

"Do you see it? The light within you?" I hear Father say.

And soon, I do see something within the dark. It's a speck of light that grows brighter with every breath I take. The light starts to grow and become more of an ember the more I breathe and the longer I stare at it. Then the ember grows into a full-grown flame. Then into a roaring inferno. It's sucking me in. I feel the fire swirl around me, burning my body and making my chest cramp. Finally, all I see is tranquil blue.

"I see it... I see it, Pa."

"Who are you? What are you?" I hear Pontius say.

"I... I'm Triton Netherbane... I'm the Flamekeeper!"

And all this fire dancing about is starting to captivate me. I'm lost in a blazing whirlwind, but I'm content. The fire is speaking to me, though its voice is only a faint whisper hidden behind the roaring walls of Vim. Then, without warning, the fire starts to absorb into my skin. I cry as my body starts burning, and my eyes sting. Even my breath is beginning to weaken.

And yet, I've never felt stronger.

"I'M THE FLAMEKEEPER!"

When my eyes snap open, all I can see is blue fire clouding my vision. Everything else is a faded silhouette outlined by a white border. I can see only one figure before me, yet it carries red eyes. Its Fiendish eyes break through the fire. I watch the figure draw a sword, clearly shown as a dark blade. So I call open my sword, and I feel it burning even stronger in my fist than before.

The figure and I clash our swords together. His strength cannot match mine, and it is flung backward. I chase the figure down and try to cut it, but it stays out of my reach. Running after it every which way, he occasionally disappears and reappears behind me or above, but I'm always there to catch it with a parry. The more I chase the figure around and the more it dodges me, the faster my breathing gets.

Soon, however, the fire hides the figure's shape. The flames are all I see, but my body is still acting- I'm still running around and fighting something I cannot see, but they are fighting back. Whoever they are, they try their best to avoid me instead of trying to fight. They must be afraid for their life.

Then I remember Father wanted this: he always wanted me to become a vicious, undefeatable warrior like himself. So that gives me a satisfied smile because I'm finally strong enough to become a threat to such a mighty king.

Something holds me back. I feel two arms wrapped around me and pulling for dear life, but they don't last long. I'm freed instantly, and I hear a scream from whoever grabbed me.

Something builds up within my left hand, and with a mighty cry, I raise my hand and open my palm. I can feel a torrent of fire rushes out of my hand, but I can't see where it leads. But I hear screaming- more than one person screaming.

"Enough!" I hear a voice say. I can't quite tell, but it is not Pontius' voice.

But then I feel a clasped hand on my head and stop moving. I stop thinking. All I see is the fire quickly retreating from my vision, showing the darkness it protected me from. It feels like a giant bat has latched its fangs into my skull and is sucking the life out of me.

Then I feel nothing. I'm cradled within the cold darkness once again.

Before I know it, I wake up coated in sweat. I'm staring at a stone ceiling with a soft bed and a comfortable blanket over my bare body. I'm back to my grown self again and back in Kodalia. Looking around, I see I'm in a small stone room with several cabinets layered with assorted-sized bottles at my side. A side table has a tray filled with metallic tools, like a small knife for surgery. Hanging on the wall is a familiar sight- the image of my emblem embroidered in blue-painted steel.

I see a robed man clinking around with some of those bottles. When he turns to me, I see the old Herald that worked on Alistar the previous night. He gives me a relieved nod.

"I'm glad to see you awake, sire."

That's when I notice the immense bandages across his right arm and hand, though he looks undeterred. He brings a small cloth and swabs my forehead.

"Herald? What happened?"

"I absorbed the abundant Vim within you," he says. "It was magnificent as it was frightening to hold that much power within my old body." He gives me a stern look. "You had neglected to take the proper precautions before claiming the role of Flamekeeper. And for that, you were at the mercy of your Auryn."

When he sees my guilty look, the old Herald smiles at me. "Oh, fear not. Fire is not biased about whose flesh it may burn. That is why we are its masters. Lady Armitage understands that as well. She awaits you."

"She is willing to speak with me?"

"Of course," the Herald says while giving me a slight pat on my back. "All will be forgiven."

Walking through the tunnel leading to Kodalia's center, I smell the pungent smoke. I can hear people muttering in fright and even children whimpering. I can't move a muscle when I reach the center when I see the cave coated in black char marks everywhere. The houses are blackened. Fabrics have been burned and are showing terrible damage. Even the White Lion was damaged, as Kenric and his crew are repairing a massive hole in its hull, though it is only one of many holes in the wood.

The people around me give me a different stare than when I arrived. They look frightened. Some of them are coated in bandages and have burn marks.

"Triton," I hear from behind me.

When I turn around, I see Kiara standing before me, and my heart nearly drops out of my chest. Her arms are bandaged, and her torso is wrapped almost entirely, barely covering her breasts. Even her neck has a massive burn larger than my fist. But she also looks unbothered by these injuries.

"Ki... Armitage... I... I'm sorry. I couldn't control myself."

"Yes, I know," she says with a sigh. "All this time, you've been just a fledgling when I took you for something more."

"I become more powerful when in that state," I say. "But all it leads to is destruction. I'm rendered uncontrollable. You must despise me now."

But then, she lets out a chuckle. It makes me want to scratch my head.

"Of course, I don't," she says. "This is terrible damage, but it will heal. You've shown me the kind of person you are."

"I have?"

"Yes," Kiara says with her smile growing. "There's certainly a Netherbane within you. You're stubborn, tenacious, and hot-headed... but you have a genuine love of Cinedime. You truly believe that you can make a difference."

"I know I can, but I still have much to learn," I say, remembering her incredible form and tactics. "If I could fight like you, I would believe it with all my heart."

We share a long glance. Her eyes are sparkling.

"Will you mentor me?" I tell her suddenly. "I'd like to learn the methods of a true master."

Kiara puts her hand under her chin and ponders for a brief moment. "Wouldn't you be degraded to be trained under a woman?"

"Woman or not, you're the finest warrior I've ever seen," I say honestly. "Second only to my father."

And then slowly, I get down on my knee and bow before her. I keep my head down, hoping she will accept me. I even chuckle at my being so eager to bow before her while I hold the title of being her king. But when I feel her palm on my skull, I look at her comforting smile. She seems as calm and as content as the morning sun.

"Very well. I will tutor you. But before we begin, you don't have much time left. So I want to ensure you're prepared to handle my training," she tells me.

"Of course," I say while hopping to my feet. "What do I need to do?"

Then Kiara softly pats my shoulder. "I will give you a rigorous test. And if you pass, we will sail to Mosleum."