Journal of Fire: Embers

Chapter 1, The Dream

Journal of Fire Entry 1 (Atrein Diablon)

Year 0 A.D., The Last Night of Autumn

Krotrean, Ertore

The dream was surreal. From my pedestal high atop a fortified tower, I saw lightning arc across the skies, and the great chains of lightning created thousands of bright flashes, illuminating a sprawling battleground. Crumbling buildings, scorched arches, obliterated fountains, and shattered statues wearily attempted to hold on for life in the large, war-torn city. The town was sliced thoroughly with wide, open streets that made for easy travel, so I knew right away I was somewhere in western Rania. Carts and stores had morphed into black husks, and a raging fire was racing through much of the urban arena, creating massive plumes of smoke and piles of ash. The clouds wavered as they split from bursts of air from vicious fighting far below. When I sought the cause of the extreme turbulence, I spotted two figures locked in a duel to the death.

A man cloaked in a suit of reflective, pitch-black armor. He wielded a longsword from which wild, purple soul oozed. The blade was a versatile weapon, and he used it to attack the other figure in endless combinations. Despite the sword being eight feet long, he swung it with no effort. It had several handholds running along its widened and blunted backside. As he engaged his opponent, the metal shifted its shape upon his whim, morphing into an entire arsenal.

With every swing of his blade, his purple soul flared through the gaps in his armor, creating a spherical, hazy aura around the man. His atmosphere was erratic and unstable like a raging fire. His surroundings melted and waned from the daunting heat which encompassed him. I was sure that contact with his armor would leave his victims with traumatic burn wounds.

He gained a foothold on the top of a five-story building, but then the second figure sent him pummeling to the ground with a kick to the side of the helmet. He crashed through the thatched roof of a wooden building farther below, and it burst into flames as he emerged through the doorway, shaking his head. He craned his neck towards the sky to glare at the figure who opposed him.

I followed his gaze upwards to view his opponent, a beautiful woman wearing chainmail and a white outer coat with detailed symbols of various gods stitched upon it. She glowed with the light of a white star in the night's sky, for small, glittering particles of her soul sprinkled out from her fair skin with her every movement. I realized the particles were part of some spell she was using as a buffer to counter the daunting heat of the man.

Her blonde and white hair flowed to both sides of her smooth, faultless face. When the two warriors met again with a flurry of blows, I noted that she fought in many styles and arts, but she primarily met his attacks with a flick of her ornate golden wand. She also possessed a collection of daggers holstered in golden and silver sheaths slung across her outer coat. Quicker than the eye could blink, she flung the daggers outwards to meet the man's sword before launching another spell from her wand. As the duel raged on, I watched her shift from defense to offense countless times. Her tactics caused a near breakdown of the man's fighting style, so he resorted to charging head forward, meeting her with outright power and bloodlust.

From only a few seconds of watching, I knew she was skilled in combat and a genius tactician. As the battle dragged onwards, the pair found themselves locked in mid-range proximity to one another, with the man launching a series of lunges at the woman from a few feet away. He used the length of his longsword to his advantage, but his opponent's defense was formidable. She braced two of her daggers together in perfect harmony to intercept the man's sword. Her daggers formed an X shape as they caught the backside of his blade, then she redirected the thrusting sword to one side or the other.