Part Two Chapter Five: Burn

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       Jeremiah's breath caught when Florian touched down between him and Citadel. He should not be here. All it would take is one order from Citadel to kill Florian. He needed to get out of here before—

       Florian made himself a human shield and blocked one of his God's attacks using his metal bottle. The falcon-shifter rarely used his elemental weapon, which was a simple metal water bottle he bought online during high school. Once he learned it had high amounts of lead in it, Florian made it his weapon.

       He willed the liquid fire within the bottle to float upon his hand before he shot a steady stream of it at Citadel. She dodged the attack and giggled. "You know everything you do is futile," she cooed as she watched the liquid fire evaporate from the road. "Let me finish off the Belsara boy then you may return home with me."

       Florian hesitantly nodded his head and took a few steps forward. "No!" Jeremiah yelled, attempting to stand up but his knees buckled. This couldn't have been any worse!

       However, when Florian halted before his God, the falcon-shifter whipped out more liquid fire and slapped them across Citadel's limbs. She had no time to react and was forced to the ground as the fire tightened up like vines around her many arms and legs, digging into them. She cried out in pain as her blood cauterized before it even hit the concrete. Tears pooled in her eyes as her Vessel approached her.

       "Get away from her! Before she gives the order! Please!" Jeremiah pleaded, crawling towards the two with his legs dragging behind him.

       Without taking his eyes off his God, Florian said: "leaving would be the simpler route, but I'd rather die than waste the sacrifices the man I love has made in order for me to live a life I am proud of!" He positioned his metal bottle over top Citadel, his booted foot shoved her onto her back. "My life is finally my own and I won't let anybody get in the way of that ever again!"

       He tightened the grip on the fiery vines, and they sliced through each of Citadel's appendages. They flopped onto the ground leaving the God to release a blood-curdling scream as tears spilled down her cheeks like a sloppy mess. Her pleads for forgiveness were short-lived as the metal bottle Florian held above her face poured fire down her open mouth. She went to close it, but Florian grasped her jaw open to let the stream burn her vocal cords.

       Citadel remained alive, but she was nothing more than a dismantled body with ragged breaths. The man dematerialized his weapon and stepped away from his pitiful God. His eyebrows raised when he saw Jeremiah use his claymore to get to his feet and shuffle over to Citadel. "What are you doing?" Florian asked.

       "This world won't know peace unless we deal with her now. Both our lives are about to change," Jeremiah explained, poising his blade to strike. Citadel peered up at him and wept as she weakly shook her head. "I am putting the gift of immortality into the right hands."

       He swung his claymore cleanly through Citadel's neck, beheading her. Her body slumped in a bloodied heap on the road with all her limbs surrounding her like some messed up jigsaw puzzle. With white speckling his vision, Jeremiah turned around to face a surprised looking Florian.

       "What did you--?" He went to ask but was cut off when his golden eyes and the red tips of his hair glowed like glittering gems. The dye on his hair crept further up the dark strands, making his hair a quarter red. "Did you just make me—"

       Jeremiah collapsed and fell unconscious before he could finish his sentence.

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       Yves cupped his mouth in his hands and trembled as he watched the news coverage of Mister Belsara assassinating the Fire God. Tears pooled in his eyes. He glanced between his family members to expressions of awe or horror; he couldn't tell which. However, his father turned towards him and muttered: "you have a good group of students."

       Yves removed his hands from his mouth which now dumbly hung open. He realized what he was doing and straightened his posture and parted his lips in a strained smile. "I suppose I do," he replied in a whisper. The few words he had exchanged with his father in years. His attention went back to the TV where the coverage changed to a news anchor bunny-shifter organizing her papers as if trying to distract herself.

       Mortals can go against the Gods, evident enough by Citadel's death. Yves shouldn't be worried about how his students would traverse this world. He locked eyes with the TV, which now flickered back to live footage of the carnage: blood puddled all down the road like a river, the Belsara's company building on fire, a deceased God, and the new Fire God holding the Ice God's son in his arms.

       The world had just witnessed history.

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