Fang's body crumpled to the ground with a heavy thud, the arrow jutting from his shoulder like a cruel flag of defeat. His tendrils dissolved into the air, their protective force vanishing in an instant. For a moment, silence reigned.
Then, Isgram saw red.
The dwarven mage didn't shout. He didn't scream. His face, twisted in a mix of fury and anxiety, told those present how big of a mistake this was. His breath hitched as he stared at Fang's collapsed form—eyes closed, unmoving, blood pooling into the dirt.
Gaia moved first, darting toward Fang's side. Her hands hovered, hesitant, her earth magic instinctively pulsing to stabilize the ground beneath him.
She built a half-moon-shaped dome around them to protect them from more arrows.
Her face stayed cold. Focused. Beneath that hard gaze, though, her fingers trembled.
Barely, but they did.
Isgram stepped forward once, then again, and then stopped. His arms hung at his sides, fingers twitching. Then, with a guttural growl that echoed like a beast unchained, he raised both hands.
The fire didn't form in his palms. It erupted. Twin orbs of blinding flame burst into existence, spiraling around his arms like comets ready to destroy entire worlds. His beard fluttered under the sudden gust of heat, and the trees in front of him began to bend away from the sheer magical pressure.
He didn't aim.
He didn't calculate.
He roared, and a wave of molten fire surged forward like a wrathful tide.
The firestorm raced through the forest, carving a straight path over two hundred meters long. Trees exploded into ash. The earth blackened and cracked. Screams rang out, then were silenced just as quickly. The archers, caught mid-retreat, didn't even have time to cry for mercy.
Bones melted. Armor warped and fused into flesh. In seconds, the forest was nothing but scorched ruin, the stench of charred meat and molten iron thick in the air.
Isgram stood there, panting, his eyes wild, fists clenched. Steam rose from his skin, and sweat poured down his temples. But he didn't move toward the fallen enemies. He turned, shoulders rising and falling, and stared at Fang.
The battle was over.
"May the gods sentence you to eternal damnation, you cowardly rats." Said Isgram as he sat down and tried not to collapse from the mana overuse.
Gaia knelt beside Fang, her hands already moving. She pressed one against the earth and the ground shaped itself gently, cradling Fang's body to keep pressure off the wound.
Her other hand hovered just above the arrow lodged in his shoulder. The blood wouldn't stop. It soaked through Fang's cloak, seeping into the soil in a spreading stain. Her brow furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. She didn't say a word. Her expression was carved from stone, but her movements betrayed her urgency.
Isgram stumbled over, his body still fuming faintly from the sheer amount of mana he had just burned. He dropped to one knee beside them, teeth clenched, hands trembling not from fear, but from helplessness. His mouth opened as if to speak, but no words came out.
He looked down at Fang. His eyes locked onto the wound. Too deep. Too much blood. He saw the way Fang's skin was paling, the way his lips were starting to go pale. His fingers hovered above the arrow but didn't touch it. He pulled his hand back. No spell would do good now, he had lost too much blood. No fire, no forge, no hammer to beat back the life draining from his friend.
Gaia tore part of her own dress to press against the wound. Still, no words. Her eyes met Isgram's. Just a glance, but it was enough. They both understood. Fang was slipping.
Isgram shook his head and clenched his fists. His knuckles turned white. He gritted his teeth hard enough that they creaked. One of his hands slammed into the earth beside Fang's body. He couldn't look away. Couldn't accept it. He leaned forward, chest heaving.
'Not again. Not another one.'
Then, a flicker.
A soft glow pulsed from the pouch strapped to Fang's hip.
Isgram blinked, then leaned in. His hand moved quickly, opening the pouch. A warm light spilled out, golden and rich, humming with a mana that felt... wrong, and yet impossibly alive.
From the small pouch, the mana stone floated upward. It had belonged to the elven archer killed by Fang in a previous fight. It spun gently in the air, its light intensifying. Gold turned to deep violet, then pulsed again with a glowing rainbow light.
"That is... That is the stone from the elf, isn't it?
The light washed over Fang's body. His chest rose slightly. Then again. The blood slowed.
Gaia leaned back just slightly, her eyes narrowing as she watched the wound.
Dark purple mana curled over Fang's skin like ink, spreading around his wound. It surrounded the arrow, dissolved it, and covered the wound, thus stopping the bleeding.
When it finished, the stone turned black and cracked in mid-air before falling lifelessly to the ground.
Fang lay still, but the bleeding had stopped.
A faint, pulsing scar sat where the wound had been.
"The fuck was that?" Said Isgram, his eyes trembling at this point from exhaustion and surprise.
"I don't know, but at least he's not bleeding anymore."
Isgram sat back, hands slack in his lap. He stared at Fang, then at the broken stone.
Gaia exhaled, slow and quiet.
For the first time since the battle began, the forest was silent.
And Fang was still alive.
For now.
----------------------------
The smoke still lingered, and the kingdom of the night soon passed the handles to the sun itself.
What the firestorm didn't devour, it blackened. Twisted trees leaned at broken angles. Ash fell like slow, gray rain. The battle had ended, but most of the forest still looked like it was dying.
Gaia sat on her knees beside Fang's still body, elbows resting on her thighs, head lowered. The faint rise and fall of his chest gave her a reason not to panic. His wound was closed. His blood was no longer spilling. But he wasn't waking up.
She reached into the satchel by her hip and pulled out a canteen. Her movements were careful, measured. She uncorked it with one hand and brought the other to Fang's chin, gently lifting his head. Then she dipped her fingers into the water and let it drip, slowly, between his lips.
One drop.
Then another.
Behind her, Isgram stood motionless. He hadn't spoken. His face was pale, not from fear, but from sheer mana exhaustion. The adrenaline had long burned out. His legs trembled. Sweat still ran along his back. But his eyes didn't leave Fang.
Not once.
Gaia didn't turn to him. She didn't need to. She could feel the rage still boiling off him like heat from cooling stone. But there was something else there too. A heavy guilt. Like he blamed himself for not catching the arrow. Or for not incinerating their enemies a second earlier.
She didn't blame him. She knew what kind of magic it took to do what he did.
After a long silence, Isgram finally spoke.
"Is he... breathing?"
She nodded, eyes still on Fang. "Barely."
He swallowed, voice hoarse. "That mana stone... it shouldn't have worked like that."
"I know."
"Do you think Fang did it?"
"That.. I do not know."
Another pause. Then, the dwarf staggered forward and dropped to his knees on the other side of Fang. He placed his hand lightly on the edge of Fang's cloak. Not on him. Just the fabric.
"He's got one foot in the souls realm," Gaia said quietly. "Whatever that stone did, it bought him time. That's all."
Isgram looked up, eyes dark. "Time is enough."
A gust of wind passed over them, rattling the dead branches above. The trees whispered like ghosts.
Gaia resumed dripping water into Fang's mouth, slow and steady. Her voice, when it came again, was flat.
"We'll need to decide what happens next."
Isgram didn't answer immediately. He looked toward the scorched trail his firestorm had left behind. A graveyard of ash and molten iron.
Then, almost too softly: "They knew how to attack us."
"And now they know how powerful we are. They will look for their warriors."
Gaia didn't look up. "Then we move."
Isgram shook his head. "No. We dig in."
His fingers curled into fists. "I'm going to find out who sent them. Who gave the order. And when I come back... We'll decide who dies next. By Lehava's flame and the forge in my chest, I swear: blood for blood, fire for fire. They'll pay in ash."
Gaia didn't argue. She felt her breath hitching with tears, which is something that felt so foreign yet natural in this moment.
She kept feeding water to Fang, as water dripped from her eyes slowly and silently.
'You made me a promise, Fang. Don't you dare break it.'
The sun began to rise from the east. The dome of earth she'd formed earlier still stood, half-melted but solid. The air was thick with the stench of death and scorched bark.
But the three of them were alive.
But there was revenge to be taken.