1
After his short, yet impassioned speech had reached its conclusion, The Chief bowed deeply to the crowd before turning his back to the noise and returning to his seat. Whilst the eccentric orator prattled on earlier, Fena had noticed that there was an extravagant looking seating area behind him, spying Horace Ember in all of his rotund grotesqueness squeezed within it, but otherwise didn't think much of it. However, upon belatedly realising that The Chief, Noah Breaker, was sat amongst that group, it occurred to Fena just who some of those people might be.
To The Chief's right stretched five grand seats, all sculpted with different designs and adorned in raiments spanning a range of different colours. The Chief and his brother, who was the only person sitting to his left—probably because the stubby little man didn't have any friends, Fena thought—sat on seats both with red, white and gold cloths draped over them. Similar to his headpiece, looming atop The Chief's seat was a big wooden sun with rays of sunlight stretching out in all directions, whereas his brother's chair was delineated in the image of The Phoenix with two large wings spreading out from the back of it.
On the first seat to The Chief's right sat the aforementioned Caleb John Emberfield who was languishing in his own boredom. He sat cross-legged, his lustrous gold curtains shielding only half of the miserable look on his face now that the spotlight had forsaken him for another. His seat shared the same colours as The Chief's and Horaces, but the design differed quite drastically in a way that, even though Fena had only learned of the man's existence this day, was as typically Caleb as it could get. It depicted a pose just like one of the many he'd struck during his excessively long introduction: his arms stretched outwards from both corners of the top of the chair's backrest, basking in the adulation of his fans worldwide whilst his dazzling golden smile, a smile that was complimented by a rose held within its mouth, beamed from his face, and finally his hair, thin golden silks that fluttered in the light breeze as they hung all the way down to the floor beneath him.
Looking toward the second seat to The Chief's right, Fena's eyes went wide. She rubbed at them and shook her head just to make sure she wasn't seeing something that wasn't really there and then looked again, but the same sight that had bewildered her the first time still remained. Barely fitting into a chair about twice the size of everyone else's, which had caused Fena to flippantly wonder just how many Fena's could be sat upon it side by side, was an ancient-looking old man leaning forward in his seat, holding his weight with a long wooden cane that looked as thick as a log. He was entombed in grey, with long, thin grey hair obscuring the majority of the upper half of his body like a lion's mane, and a forest of tangled grey jutted out from his wrinkly chin. Tight skin stretched taut around pointy, aged bones, as though all the life had been sucked out of him; Fena couldn't shake the image that he looked like some oversized scarecrow.
Whilst his own image was assuredly ghastly enough to make Fena ponder whether smacking her head against the wall earlier was starting to have some serious effects on her, there was something else about the man that truly perplexed her.
Surrounding him, practically drowning him, were a swathe of women who all wore simple purple dresses and some sort of strange accessory on their heads that Fena wasn't familiar with; it was wispy and bright green, a sheet of thin material that looked like a cover of some sort and it hung down from their heads to their shoulders and covered their backs. Two women massaged his shoulders from behind, two more sat beneath him and rubbed at his legs, another two kneeled either side of the armrests, both offering selections of food and drink and for all of it, they all seemed to be having a really fun time, chatting and laughing away amongst each other… All except for one, a tiny girl who looked far, far younger than the rest, was perched upon his concrete slab of a lap, as he ran his wrinkly, pointed fingers through her dark green hair.
Fena felt her clothes sticking to her back, "Hey," she called out to Koria, tugging on her sleeve, "what's the deal with the really old guy? And why are all those girls with him? Is he a Chief somewhere else, like our Chief?"
Koria's eyes shook. Her lips quivered. Her trembling eyes scarpered away, retreating somewhere amongst the crowd; maybe she thought that if she simply avoided the question, acted as though Fena had never even asked it in the first place, then it would go away… Yet Fena knew that she had been heard, watching Koria shake in her seat as though the very breath Fena had expelled from her mouth carried with it a chill from the most freezing winter weather was all the proof she needed of that and seeing her in such distress made Fena feel terribly sad, but also furiously angry with that old man. She began to reach out to her, hoping to calm her down and tell her that she was okay, that she didn't need to answer the question.
"—'Donovan Tempest', Chief of 'Rindala'," Elira abruptly spoke up, breaking the silence amongst them. She observed Koria with a pensive look, tilting her head to the side.
"Please forgive me, Your Radiance," she blurted out, bowing deeply in her seat.
Elira then looked over toward Fena, tilting her head quizzically once again. Fena shrugged her shoulders, she didn't understand what exactly about her question had caused Koria such distress, only that it had done just that.
"...Rindala is one of the smallest, yet mightiest villages on the Historia continent, and it is for one single reason," With tinge of confusion in her tone that she'd soon drop during her explanation, Elira Ember continued on, still none the wiser to the behaviour of her maid, who sat back up into her seat, trepidation clouding her brown eyes. "Amongst Shinobi, he is known as 'Typhon', wielder of The Blessing of The Fairy of The Wind. A man capable of commanding storms so catastrophic that he brings all of the competition for The Chief's Seat in Rindala to its knees single handedly. It is possible that, in spite of his age, he may be the most powerful man alive… Yet, there is one singular thing, far more important than any battle, any land and any fortune, that has thus far evaded his grasp…"
Fena tried to envision herself in Typhon's shoes in an attempt to ascertain what the final piece of the puzzle of life would be for him, if she were the strongest Shinobi in the world, then that would mean nothing would be standing in the way of her enjoying the rest of her life peacefully with her mother—what more would she possibly need to achieve? She looked again towards the old man, focusing moreso on the women around him this time, "...Love? He hasn't been able to find love, is that it? That's why he's with so many girl's, because he's trying to find true love?"
"Not quite… but I suppose you aren't entirely off the mark," Elira slowly turned her head towards where the old man sat. "It is a successor. A child who awakens to the gift of their bloodline, keeping possession of The Blessing bestowed upon it… Look at the end of the row, past the empty seats,"
Skipping past two empty seats, Fena observed the final seat at the very end of the row. Sat upon it was a regal-looking woman wearing a sparkling blue sequined dress, drenched in deep bedazzling blue, glittering gold and shimmering silver trinkets that conspired together to blind Fena every second or so as if each trinket housed within it a fraction of sunlight. Cowering into her chest was a young girl who was similarly dressed, that's probably her daughter, right? Fena assumed, realizing that she must be what Elira was talking about, a successor who will one day awaken to the power gifted by one of Origin's Divine Children to their clan— a Blessing.
Decorated in deep blue, bright blue and white cloths, the backrest of the chair housed yet another unique design, a scaly body coiled around it in a spiral of bumpy blues and turquoise-like colours and further up the body there were arms, just like a humans. At its summit, a human head lay slumped over the top of the chair's backrest and Fena thought that it looked like the person was crying.
"Lady Origin birthed unto us four divine children, each with the purpose of teaching us how to survive with her Essence," Elira pointed toward each corresponding seat that possessed the Blessing of the corresponding child, "Ramus, The Phoenix of Eternal Flame, Sylphiette, The Fairy of The Wuthering Wind, Tidas, The Serpent of The Six Seas and lastly, Yura, whom she crafted in the image of a regular human, just like us."
Fena realised that for the fourth and final child, "Yura", Elira was pointing to an empty seat. It was decorated in brown and white cloths and the design of the chair was rather simple, only sporting a set of deer antlers at the top of the seat's backrest.
"If a Blessing is not properly passed down, it vanishes and the power is lost to time. Without such a tremendous power, clans capitulate, Yura's Blessing has been dormant for some thousands of years… Nobody knows if it'll ever return. It is said that Donovan Tempest is a father to at least twenty children, only The Goddess knows however many more there've been that he hasn't claimed, and not a single one has ever been known to have awakened to Sylphiettes Blessing."
Fena was about to ask "How do you awaken to a blessing?", before a hefty, unpleasantly familiar voice barged its way into her ears, "'May The Flames Of Creation Guide Us All Back To You, Lady Origin'," Horace Ember heartily began. The crowd embraced his thick drumbeat voice with a roar. "On this sacred day, O Goddess Origin, bear witness to our humble demonstration of how far we have come with the gifts that you bestowed upon us."
Fena's left hand slid down to grip Bolt's hilt and she squeezed it tight; it was now or never.
2
"It is with the greatest of pleasures that I appear before all of you on this sacred occasion once again. Never would I dare claim to speak for Her Radiance as she watches us from her paradise above the clouds, but I am most certain indeed that the efforts of our village each and every year to celebrate Her Radiance and Ramus—as well as her other children—must reach her and warm her benevolent heart…" Horace's hefty drumbeat voice ruled over the stewing excitement amongst the crowd as he spoke with a pompous grin smacked upon his face. "Which in turn makes those who endeavour to desecrate it all the more despicable," All of a sudden, the laxed, confident swagger of a nobleman seemed to evaporate from his person entirely, his pudgy face twisted in disgust and his tomato cheeks ripened a deep red. "My brother asked all of us a very important question earlier—allow me to provide you all with my answer…"
It was then that a combatant emerged from the left hand side of the arena and headed toward the battlegrounds. They walked slowly, almost as though they were on unsure legs and when they reached the steps leading to the elevated platform that served as the stage for today's combat, they tripped slightly on the first step. "Since The Goddess crafted this divine world and blessed us with a fraction of her almighty power, there have been deviants, blasphemers, vagabonds and anarchists who exist for one sole purpose: to destroy Her Radiance and everything she has gifted to us. There is only one way to combat absolute chaos… and it is to develop and harness a controlled chaos of our own," Horace turned his back to the crowd, looking directly into his brother's eyes, "our father beat this into us, older brother, and I'm surprised that, even after all you've lost, you still don't get it,"
Fenrir, Horace Ember's son, the nasty boy who'd said such horrible things to his sister, Lady Ember, took his position on the battlegrounds. The stage itself was extremely plain in its design, a huge concrete square platform elevated from ground level as though it were some sort of pedestal, holding within it those who would entertain The Goddess who rested above the clouds. Fenrir looked like an ant from where Fena sat, but even from here she could see the abyss of black in his eyes, full of contempt and rage, just like his fathers.
Turning back towards the crowd, Horace's voice struck like roaring thunder as he declared his answer to The Chief's question for all to hear, "To protect our peace, we must make the prospect of conflict, of war, seem hopeless… but what happens if the other side doesn't possess any hope to begin with? That, brother, is The Shinobi Hunters, that, brother, was The Crimson Witches, calamitous destruction with no rhyme or reason to it at all… To defeat that, we need power," Now, a trail of sparkling black marched towards the battlegrounds, racing up the stairs and taking her position on the right hand side of the platform, and Fena's heart sank to the very depths of her stomach. "Today, ladies and gentleman, to all of those watching worldwide, and bluntly, to our esteemed guests sitting alongside both me and my foolish older brother, through my beautiful children, Fenrir and Ruby Ember, I shall demonstrate to you that just as equally as I am willing to entertain my brother's childish notions of how to achieve peace, The Ember Clan stands ready for war, and if it is to come to that, know this… There is nothing in this world that Ramus's flames cannot burn."
The roaring of the crowd was deafening. Each time the fat nobleman opened his mouth it grew louder and louder. It felt like an awful nightmare that had only just begun. "Koria, tell me what the heck is going on? Why is Lady Ember down there?" Fena shouted, as she shot out of her seat and grabbed hold of Koria by the scruff of her neck, shaking her frantically.
Koria's body was limp, and she was trembling again. Fena was about to let go of her, but just as she pulled away, Koria reciprocated her grip, wrapping her arms around tight as she leaned her head into Fena's stomach, "I'm s-sorry Fena, I c-couldn't stop h-her," she cried, barely forcing the words out of her mouth.
"Koria…?" Elira's voice cracked as she regarded Koria pensively once again, who couldn't keep her tears at bay any longer. Whatever pain Elira's mask may have been hiding, Fena couldn't help but hear the stress now laced within her shaking voice.
"Elira!" Fena yelled and she jolted in her seat. Belatedly, Fena realised just how loud she'd shouted her name, so she softened her tone, "M-miss Elira, do you know what's going on? Why is Lady Ember trying to fight her brother?"
Elira Ember turned away from Fena, casting her lifeless gaze towards the battlegrounds in silence. She was stoic like a porcelain doll, until after a few moments, the cracks began to form as she trembled in her seat, pressing her small, gloved hands to her chest, "This… is my penance…"
"Snap out of it! We've gotta—"
"Oh I hear your cries for combat rest assured, but there is one more thing I must demonstrate to you before my children give you all the show you're so desperate to see," After a short pause, Horace Ember's rotund visage was gradually suffused in a deep orange hue. As though the very space around him was a blank canvas and his flames were the paintbrush, ethereal lines of deep red fire manifested seemingly at random behind his person, until they soon joined together to form a blazing symbol: the crest of The Phoenix. He held his pudgy hands out before him, motioning them in a way that looked as though he were carefully modelling a spherical ball of clay and in turn, his flames soared into the sky, rising over the space above the battlegrounds. Like an orchestrator truly at one with his orchestra, his flames followed his every instruction and soon the entire battlegrounds were separated from the rest of the world by a cage of flames. "With The Blessing of Ramus, The Phoenix of The Eternal Flame Of Creation, I can encase any domain within my flames and control who may enter and leave… We shall not be having a repeat of last year, I can assure you all of that." Horace directed an open palm toward the cage of fire, then closed it like he was crushing it all to dust and in an instant, the blistering flames ceased their seemingly never-ending burning and solidified into a huge, translucent red dome.
"Boy," he called. A few awkward moments of silence passed before the nasty boy finally snapped into action. He raised his hand before himself and soon, bright orange flames fizzed within it, they rapidly ballooned into a sphere almost the size of his own head and once it had become large enough he launched it toward the roof of the barrier. As soon as it made contact a huge explosion shook the foundations of the arena, a cacophony of terror and dread pitifully embraced what many believed to be their imminent doom… Yet, the barrier held, it didn't even display so much as a hint of damage upon it. The luminescent sun that surrounded the battlegrounds stunned the spectators' cries of terror into a stunned silence.
"And it is with this power that I bring to you all a proposition… For this year's Ritual I propose that the participants be given a choice before battle: compete within the boundaries of the traditional format, or… forfeit the protection of The Order and The Academy Staff in the event of your surrender, leaving it at the mercy of your opponent… in other words, a fight to the death. With such drastically raised stakes, it is only natural that the level of competition would increase as well, but of course there's absolutely no shame in—"
Piercing through the barbaric cheering and roaring in favour of such a ridiculous proposition, Lady Ember pulled out a Kunai from within her beautiful black dress and used it to slash the dress at the knees, then she kicked off the high heels she wore and held the fabric and footwear within her right hand, raising it high above her head, halting Horace Ember's words in their tracks as she reduced the clothes to dust. "I agree!"
Horace Ember's slimy lips stretched to their limits, "Oh the flames of youth everyone… aren't they truly such a wonderful sight to behold? Even at such a tender age, my children are well aware of the importance that our clan bears towards keeping you all safe…"
Whilst Horace continued to prattle on, Fena noticed that Fenrir still hadn't raised his right hand. Something was off about that boy and Fena had noticed it from the moment he'd made his walk to the battlegrounds; he'd looked nervous, almost terrified even, he'd tripped on the first step and now, Fena could sense it—that boy did not want to raise his hand. Yet his right hand, though shakily, would eventually raise, "I-I also agree, f-father!" he yelled, far louder than Lady Ember did, and his voice squeaked as harsh as a dog's whelp.
"Ah—yes, of course Fenrir, I thought I needn't even ask! There you have it, ladies and gentleman!" It was then that Horace Ember sent two Shinobi toward the barrier, he'd touched them and they'd both been set aflame, but the fires were calm and controlled and it they didn't seem to hurt the two individuals at all, they passed through the barrier seamlessly, still burning bright, and they each took a knee in front Fenrir and Lady Ember respectively, revealing a small device that produced a holographic image showcasing the variety of Shinobi Combat Technology that they were allowed to select for the fight.
"I decline," Lady Ember said instantly.
"I… refuse these useless tools also!" Fenrir screeched.
The two Shinobi exited the barrier swiftly and returned back to Horace and with just a tap on their shoulders, he removed the flames he'd given to them. "And with that, ladies and gentleman, I say, MAY THE RITUAL COMMENCE!"
3
Horace Ember's voice struck like thunder once again. The moment his father spoke those words, Fenrir launched himself across the battlegrounds with a ferocious explosion that rattled the foundations of the arena and closed the distance on Lady Ember in an instant. Fena noticed that the technique he'd used seemed to involve charging up his flames and expelling them all at once, which Fena also noted that he'd done extremely quickly, with the resulting explosion amplifying his speed exponentially and clearly it had been effective. Before she could react, Fenrir's flaming fist had crashed right into Lady Ember's face and the resulting impact sent her careening into the stone wall behind her.
"This foolish game of yours ends today, sister," Fenrir hissed, readying the flames on his fists once again. Wisps of bright orange flame simmered around his shoulders, within his fists and from his hair like a walking volcano. "I've warned you, again and again… This burden is mine to bear."
No reply came from Lady Ember, at least, not in the form of words—
Another explosion, though not quite as thunderous as Fenrir's, sounded out and with it, a blazing arrow of red fire shot out from a cloud of debris, leaving a trail of scorched earth in its wake as, aiming directly for Fenrir.
Whatever game that nasty boy was talking about, it was abundantly clear that Lady Ember had no interest in playing as she let her fists fly.
As much as it pained her to admit, Fena could see right off the bat that there was a speed and strength difference between the siblings, and it most certainly wasn't in Lady Ember's favour. They'd both used a similar move to propel themselves towards each other, but Fenrir's explosion was far more devastating, meaning that his fire is probably more powerful overall, Fena concluded, and from a physical standpoint, Fenrir seemed both far faster and the far heavier hitter amongst the two. The pair both had flames burning on their bodies and within their fists, but Fenrir's bright orange flames seemed to burn more ferociously than Lady Ember's red fire.
Fenrir was fighting with no form or function whatsoever, almost windmilling punches like a madman, firing them indiscriminately towards Lady Ember's head, arms and body and each blow that landed made Fena wince as she watched knuckles crash into cheekbone and sink into ribcages. Lady Ember was doing her best to respond, trying to pick her spots and land the cleaner shots, but whenever she'd aim high, Fenrir would dodge and parry and when she'd aim low, he'd make no efforts at all to defend himself, her strikes just weren't phasing him at all, whereas when a strike of his would connect with Lady Ember, the resulting blow would send shockwaves through her body, stopping her dead in her tracks for a split second.
"How many times," Fenrir's callous voice was cold. He'd been charging up another explosive strike whilst Lady Ember was giving him chase, pushing him toward the farside of the barriers red wall, "UNTIL YOU FINALLY UNDERSTAND!" Unleashing another devastating flaming fist with reckless abandon, Fenrir sent Lady Ember barrelling across the battlegrounds, spiralling out of control as she skimmed across the concrete floor like a bowling ball.
Managing to halt her trajectory and find her feet after skidding wildly across the surface of the battlegrounds, Lady Ember regained her balance right below Fena's stand on the nearside and without even a moment's hesitation, she launched herself back towards her brother again as they met each other in the middle of the arena. For all of its lack of effectiveness thus far, Lady Ember was absolutely relentless in her pursuit, fighting like she was possessed by some puppet master who'd no regard for the safety of his instrument of combat.
Watching her seemingly indomitable spirit in the face of what looked like such overwhelming odds cast Fena's mind back to what had happened outside of The Shinobi Academy gates. Recalling the unmitigated rage in her glacial stare made a chilly finger trace Fena's back—why was she putting herself through this? Once again, Fena found herself in awe of Lady Ember's unwavering determination; she'd protected Fena in the face of Shinobi who were leagues more powerful than her, even though she knew that if it were to come to a fight, she wouldn't stand a chance against them, and now here she was once again, putting everything on the line.
Flames of fury met sparks of indignation as Embers' clashed blow for blow in The Phoenix's Nest. Lady Ember swung a kick for Fenrir's side, the flames sizzling on her leg like it were surrounded by a host of fireflies, but he evaded with a backwards handspring. Right as he landed, flames whizzed towards his face and swiftly, he formed a hand sign and blew flames from his own mouth to counter them and the resulting clash of fire created a huge cloud of smoke. Taking advantage of that, Lady Ember blasted herself high into the air and continued her assault from above, firing a continuous volley of fireballs all towards her brother, burying him underneath a coffin of smoke and debris.
"What the heck is she doing!?" Fena shouted, waving her arms around in frustration. "She won't be able to dodge in the air!"
Suddenly, a thunderous blast shook the arena once again and Fenrir zipped into the air, wrapping both of his hands around his sisters neck and slamming her against the roof of the luminescent domain. Whilst Lady Ember clawed at his hands, Fenrir's flames stirred and the flames around his body began to pulsate. As though he'd somehow stolen the sun itself and stuffed it into his chest, he reached a scintillating heat and after one final pulse of flames, he plunged back down towards the earth like a comet falling from the sky and slammed Lady Ember into the ground, accompanying with it another ferocious explosion that shook the arena once more.
"My babies… I failed… my babies… fighting… Ruby… don't take… die…" Lady Ember was delirious. She rocked back and forth in her seat and hysterical cackles leaked from her mouth. "Pennance… My… Penance…"
Koria was distraught. She buried her face within her hands, tears flowing and her breaths short and sharp. Fena kneeled in between the two of them, taking both of their hands each within one of her own. "I'm not very good at this stuff… I really wanted to help Lady Ember, but when I told her that she pushed me and I got so sad… it made me feel like I was a burden and I hated that—"
"What would you know!" Elira Ember's hysterical voice cracked like a whip. She wrenched her tiny hands away, "You said you wanted to help her—well do something! You have to stop this, you said you were her friend!"
"M-my lady—"
"And you!" Elira's hollow stare behind her mask was petrifying. She pointed a trembling finger toward Koria, who cowered before it. "You've been keeping secrets… How dare you shed your fake tears for my daughter whilst sitting there and watching her walk herself into the fire, it is your duty to protect your master, slave woman! Save my daughter's life right now!"
"She doesn't want our help!" Fena shouted back. It was hard, but she could understand Elira's pain, she couldn't imagine just how scary all of this must be for her, but there was one thing that Fena just couldn't forgive her for, "I don't know why she's pushing so hard, but look at her! Lady Ember's out there fighting with everything she's got, she's suffering in her own way, just like you, but you're gonna give up on her just like that?! I'm scared for her too, I had no idea what the heck she was thinking—argh, I still don't! But I see it now, Lady Ember is gonna win this battle, just you watch." Fena proudly proclaimed, pointing a daring finger towards the luminescent red dome.
Lady Ember had a plan and she'd been pursuing it ever since the fight began. It was during the previous exchange between the siblings that Fena had finally grasped it, "Why the heck would you jump in the air like that against someone who's stronger and faster than you? You wouldn't, you'd be gambling with your guts… Unless you were fighting someone that you knew wouldn't kill you," Whilst Elira Ember remained beside herself, a pulse of life seemed to flash in Koria's brown eyes. "Lady Ember isn't running away… she's dancing, and her stupid brother doesn't have a clue."
Right before Fenrir had landed each of his two explosive punches, Lady Ember had planted her palm flat upon his chest before being blasted away. At first, Fena had chalked it up to a defensive reflex, scrambling in a last ditch attempt to avoid the strikes, but upon seeing her repeat the same action a third time whilst suspended in the air, it all came together in Fena's mind. Lady Ember was preparing something and it seemed as though she needed to touch Fenrir a certain number of times in a special way to activate it. The Embers' were a dancing duet and Fenrir, though he was none the wiser to it, was executing the routine his sister had prepared for them perfectly.
Thus far, she'd placed her palm on his chest three times, the first being towards the right hand side of the battlegrounds, the second, Lady Ember had been on the offensive and pushed him toward the stand opposite to Fena's on the farside, and the third had been dead in the centre, right before he'd slammed her into the ground.
"Just. Give. Up." Fenrir demanded, standing over his sister as she struggled to lift herself up from a pool of her own blood. Her flames were flickering; she didn't have much strength left within her.
Nonetheless, she refused to waver, once again, though on notably uncertain legs, Lady Ember kicked off the ground, leaving a trail of firecrackers in her wake and leaping backwards, creating space between herself and her brother and following it with a barrage of fireballs once again.
"Two more times." Fena believed she had ascertained the exact conditions necessary for Lady Ember's trump card to take effect and win her this fight.
"T-two more?" Koria repeated with a gasp. "Fena, what are you talking about?"
"I told you both, Lady Ember has a plan. I don't know what she's got up her sleeve, but she's been marking Fenrir, tracing the shape of the battlegrounds," Fena directed Koria to each position where Lady Ember had marked Fenrir in order, "she touched him on the right side, right when he threw the first punch, then she touched him on the farside, when she was chasing him down and she touched him in middle just a second ago, now… watch," The pairs gaze directed to Lady Ember's current position, where she continued spewing volleys of fireballs in her brother's direction. Fenrir walked menacingly through her flames like they were nothing, clashing against them with his own fire as he bore down upon her. "She hasn't touched him yet on the left side or on the nearside here, right underneath us."
Right on cue, as though Fena's words had spoken it into existence, Fenrir amplified his flames to a scintillating scorch, overpowering Lady Ember's flickering flames and leaving her wide open for his attack. Fenrir cocked back a flaming fist and swung for his sister once again, totally unaware that he was dancing to the beat of her drum and just before his fist crashed into her stomach, Lady Ember had slipped her palm beneath his fist and planted it flat on his chest, she'd even positioned herself so that the resulting blow from Fenrir's right fist would blast her towards where she'd need to mark him for the final time to spring whatever trap she'd had planned. Such an approach was certainly a drastic gamble, she believed that her brother wouldn't follow through and put an end to her life and she had bet on herself being able to take whatever punishment he may dish out to her, all the while remaining composed enough to not let her intentions slip and looked as though that gamble was about to pay off. Only one more touch, right where she lay, amongst a pile of debris, right underneath the nearside stand where Fena sat and everyone in the world would see what Fena could see right now: Lady Ember had won this fight from the very moment it had begun.
"DIG DEEPER BOY! FIND THE PHOENIX'S FLAME WITHIN YOU AND SEIZE IT!" Horace Ember's voice roared like thunder once again.
Fenrir Ember jolted on the spot, standing stiff for a few moments, "Rrrraghhhh!" before finally bursting back to life. The nasty boy wailed out a pitiful battlecry that rattled Fena's ears like whetstone on steel, and the small, simmering flames that lingered around his body now set ablaze all in unison like he were a human torch. Throughout the fight, both his and Lady Ember's flames, although slightly different to each other's, burned a similar colour to their father's, more specifically, it was actually Lady Ember's red flames that imitated Horace's deep red fire the most accurately, whereas Fenrir's flames, whilst extremely volatile, burned a bright orange instead… but suddenly, the colour of his fire began to change. Flickers of blue flame seemed to manifest within his blazing visage, only to just as rapidly fizzle out—was this it? Was this The Blessing of The Phoenix?"
"Blue… Fire…?" Elira Ember mumbled, catching Fena completely off guard.
Fena quickly kneeled before her again, "Is that The Blessing? Is he awakening to his power?"
"Blue… Fire…" She droned again, seemingly not even aware of Fena's presence anymore.
Fena didn't have a clue what the blue flames meant, but if it really did have anything to do with awakening to The Phoenix's Blessing, Lady Ember was in severe trouble, she didn't have any more time to spare.
"You can do it Lady Ember!" Fena screamed at the top of her lungs, trying to will Lady Ember back to her feet just one last time. "I believe in you, it's now or never!"
Fena watched on with bated breath as Lady Ember struggled in a pool of her own blood, looking as though she'd all but spent every last ounce of energy she'd had left.
Meanwhile, as her brother's furious flames faded from her vision and the colourful world around her gradually turned to black, Ruby Ember found herself suddenly surrounded by… nothing, an expanse of pure white, never ending nothing, though alone in that nothingness she was not.