Beside Her

Burning debris rains down from the canopy above. The falchion pulses in my grip, but this time, Her power surges through me, swift and precise. My extremities tingle, and the dull ache in my side vanishes. My pace quickens without effort, as though an unseen current lifts me, stripping the heaviness from my legs.

The falchion’s flame steadies, hardening around the blade in anticipation of the first strike. It glows blinding white once more, but now a spiralling force coils around it, and the blade becomes weightless in my grip.

From the corner of my vision, the air begins to swirl and coalesce, and for a single moment, I see her face in the wind. Her power stands beside me in this battle.

As I close in on the Mirukai, the swirling wind falls back. And without thought, acting on instinct, on forgotten memory, I leap into the air.

From behind, I feel the wind slam into my back, launching me toward the creature at breakneck pace. My muscles seize as I’m whipped forward, caught between motion and destruction. I hear the falchion devour the air as it carves a path directly to the Mirukai.

At the moment before impact, I thrust the falchion forward, but faster than a blade’s flash, the Mirukai conjures a greatsword of ice. It deflects my strike with ease, twisting aside to avoid the full force of the blow.

I slam into the earth with bone-jarring force. The ground quakes beneath me as ash and dirt erupt skyward, veiling the battlefield. I use the cover. Without pause, I lunge again, bursting through the haze, falchion raised high. I bring the blade down with the speed of a falling star, but the Mirukai is ready. It meets the attack head-on. Our blades lock.

Steam hisses between us as fire meets frost, the falchion’s heat clashing against the frozen steel. The two opposing forces strain and crackle, then explode outward in a violent wave of pressure. We’re both hurled backwards.

The gust catches me midair. I twist through the smoke, landing on my feet in a skid, guided by momentum and something more.

The Mirukai rises again, unfazed, brushing off the blast like it was nothing.

Then, an assault from above.

Not from me, from Her.

The canopy shudders. Something stirs.

A cyclone of force twists through the burning branches, drawing flame and fury into its heart. It shapes spears from the blaze, not one, but three, their tips writhing with elemental rage.

And then they fall.

Not like weapons.

Like omens.

Like streaking comets.

I bury the falchion into the dirt and firm my grip, readying myself for the blast wave. The burning spears impact the ground. Molten rock erupts from the crater, riding a shockwave that hammers outward. I brace as the pressure tears past me, threatening to rip me from the earth.

My skin sears as shards of molten stone pelt my body. I close my eyes, turning away from the heat, waiting for the fury to pass. Then, the tremor fades. The blaze dies back. Silence settles, broken only by the hiss of cooling stone.

When I look again, smoke coils across the crater like a living thing.

Her power stirs. Something intangible gathers, then lashes outward, a sudden force that cuts through the murk like a blade. The smog vanishes, flung aside in an instant, leaving the field stripped bare.

And at the centre of the crater… the Mirukai still stands.

Encased in a dome of ice. Steam rises in curls from the heat-warped air as the creature begins to cackle, the gut-wrenching sound of a predator toying with its prey.

The ice barrier fractures. But instead of falling, the shards rise, hundreds of jagged daggers suspended above the Mirukai.

Then, with a flick of her clawed hand, the creature sends them hurtling toward me.

I rip the falchion from the dirt and steady my stance.

I swing, not wildly, but in a flowing arc guided by Her wind. The falchion moves without resistance, carving through the air in a spiral. Each shard that nears me shatters into frost and mist.

The storm parts around me. Not one shard breaks through.

But it was a distraction.

Through the dissolving mist, I see the Mirukai lunge, blade first, aimed to impale.

Absetzen — counter with parry.

I turn the blow aside, knocking the Mirukai off balance. It stumbles.

I see an opening.

With a burst of speed, I launch the falchion in a horizontal arc. Her power surges through me, and the blade falls like a meteor.

But the Mirukai moves with the precision of a master bladesman. She catches the blow just in time. The force still sends her skidding across the scorched forest floor, tumbling into a crumpled heap.

Finally, a moment to breathe.

I bend slightly, panting, sucking in the heat-heavy air. I wipe the sweat from my brow.

If I survive this… I must thank Seredain. His sword technique just saved my life.

The creature rises again, as if the last blow never touched her. It screeches in frustration. The piercing cry sends a shudder up my spine, but I firm my grip on the falchion once more. I’m ready.

Its voice tears through the smoke, desperate and frayed with anger.

“Where? How? Who taught you that technique, you miserable retch? Tell me now, or I’ll flay you alive!”

I say nothing.

If I fail… Seredain will be in danger, trapped in the Flamepool with this creature.

“TELL ME!” it howls.

Then it charges, fury and wrath radiating like a storm.

The falchion pulses. Flame ignites across its surface once more. But this time… I sense something deeper.

Not just fire.

Not just mimicry.

A buried voice, crackling beneath steel.

It speaks.

Not with words, but with a voice buried in the soul of the blade. Ancient. Undeniable.

“Thal’Eshan.”

The language of the old world.

The blade shudders.

A rune appears, glowing across the steel, not carved, but burned into it. Each letter flickers like a living coal.

I’ve never spoken this tongue.

And yet… I understand.

The words shine clear, like suns breaking through storm:

Path of Red Flame.

A Rune of Mastery.

The Blade of Mimic’s potential is awakening.

I tear my eyes from the glowing letters, locking onto the oncoming Mirukai. I step forward, bracing to meet her charge. But as my foot touches the scorched earth, the falchion pulses, a deep, resonant crackle that climbs my arms and floods my mind.

It doesn’t ask.

It commands.

And I obey.

My grip tightens. My arms rise, not from thought but instinct, or something deeper. The falchion swings in a clean horizontal arc, carving the very air. A shock jolts through my shoulders as the blade releases a blast of energy, a crescent of flame erupting from its edge.

The wave bursts forward, blazing like a comet loosed from the heavens. As it flies, the arc widens, its tail stretching into wings of fire, a searing edge that grows longer, faster, fiercer with each passing breath.

The fiery arc slices through the trees, losing no momentum. The Mirukai halts her charge and leaps into the canopy, just in time. The arc tears through the trunk beneath her, severing it clean. The tree collapses with a thunderous roar, splintered wood and burning limbs crashing to the forest floor.

She lands hard, rolling across the dirt in a blur of ash and tattered cloth. But she’s up in an instant, wildly cackling as her twisted limbs snap back into place with unnatural grace.

The canopy groans and begins to fall. The blaze is consuming everything.

But the arc does not stop.

It continues, a streak of molten fury, to the forest’s edge.

And then, through the breach… sunlight.

Smoke rolls outward into the open world, trailing behind the attack.

Then, a figure steps through.

Cloaked in ash and silence. Sword at his side.

His gaze sweeps the devastation, the trees, the fire… and her.

The Mirukai’s head jerks toward the light. Her blood-red eyes lock onto him.

Her cackle dies in her throat.

Something ancient flickers behind those crimson eyes, betrayal… or longing.

From recognition.

Seredain.