"Promise me, Charlene." … …

"I'll stay here."

… … "I will only be gone a minute. I will be right back, I promise. Things are going to be okay, Charlene."

This isn't real. In the midst of a burning city ripping itself apart, all I can feel is the warmth of her body.

"..Jess…"

She won't look at me. Her eyes stare toward the sky as I hold her, looking at something far past me. I move to brush the blood from her mouth; she can't do it herself, only to find sticky red covering my hand. Then I see it, the hole in her chest, right through the bone, deep and carnal.

"I have something," I tell her. My hand shakes as I reach into my inventory, one of the potions I took from the adventurer's hall appearing between my fingers. The blood on my nails makes them too slick to pull the stopper from the bottle. "Sorry," I mutter. "Sorry."

The glass bottle tumbles out of my hand, bouncing on the broken brick, rolling away with a rattle.

"I have another one," I assure her. "I have another."

My last bottle drops into my hand. I bite the topper, chipping the glass with my teeth rather than bother with the stopper. She won't drink it when I put it to her lips. "Come on." The potion trickles into her mouth as I hold her. She won't look at me. "Come on, Jess."

Motes of magic spark in the liquid. It's like nothing moves. Just a still scene, a still face, looking up and away from me. The empty bottle falls from my hand, the noise like a church bell. She doesn't complain when my bloody fingers touch her cheek. "I'm sorry," I tell her as my arms start to shake. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." My fingers leave streaks on her face, but she doesn't look up. She doesn't look at me.

The skitter of movement snaps my attention up. Dragonfire blazes around me, the full might of the Throne of War pumping through my veins. Only, there is just a teenage girl standing there, shrinking away from me, from the fury that turns the air to ash. The girl's hands shake as she steadies herself, swallowing her fear and taking a tentative step forward.

"She protected us," the girl says. She reaches forward, cupping the fallen potion in her fingers, holding it like a baby bird. "She kept us safe."

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I can't help something feral growling from my throat as I snatch the potion away. The top snaps under the pressure of my fingers. More of the magical liquid pools into her mouth. A lump chokes my throat as I toss the bottle aside, moving her too limp head, messaging the liquid down.

The girl moves, my spread soul presence tracking each step, each shift in her feet as I look down at my friend. My best friend, I realize. It feels like I've known her forever and no time at all. Around me, Danfalla burns, and I feel the loss for the first time.

Jess is as light as a feather when I lift her. How did I never notice before how fragile she is? I feel it now as she lies in my arms, the girl in a foreign land, the sunshine always there to brighten the world. But, I don't feel her. My hands shake, they tremble, because as my soul spreads out around me, taking in the whole of the market square, I don't feel my friend. The whole of the market groans as I bite back a sob trying to rise up in me, boards snapping, nails wrenching and pulling apart from their housings. I stand with Jess; I can feel and see the magic of the potions seeping into her body, but I don't feel her there.

The group of people, seven including the girl, flinch away from me as I begin to walk their way. Quickly, they run back against the wall, nowhere left to go. I find one among them, a large man who looks like he could be a dockworker from his build.

"Keep her safe." Despite my voice cracking, there is no give in the demand. The cloud of sand floating about me begins to dull, the dragonfire running through the mist relaxing, vanishing into motes of potential.

"I will," he says, nodding and braving a step forward. When my fingers won't relax, when I don't let him take her away, he nods again, his voice becoming hard and sincere. "I promise, I will keep her safe."

When he lifts her away, all I want to do is take her back. But I can't, not now.

I turn, finding him there, exactly where I knew he would be. The monster looks the same as he does in my memory, except for the torn and bloodied clothing. There is something that churns my stomach in the way he appears healthy, vibrant, as if he is in the best shape of his life. Standing in front of the dark hole broken in the side of a tenement building, the monster smiles; he told me once that his name was Ferro.

"I felt it, you know," he draws, his quiet words conveyed to me by the spiral of my presence spread through the market square. "I felt that moment when you stopped fighting me. You gave up, didn't you? Let the blades stab in. It felt like they stabbed me too, but in a good way, ya know? It probably doesn't make much sense, I suppose."

My reply comes as the mageblade on my hip sails forward, the tip of the long dagger aimed directly at his face. Ferro doesn't move, doesn't dodge to the side, or even raise the massive sword he holds in his hand. The blade sticks in the air, stopped dead as if it collided with a solid object, as a shroud of steely energy erupts from Ferro's skin. The monster produces a soul presence, one that I know intimately.

"Blades are my domain," he comments.

"You're going to fucking die," I swear through clenched teeth.

"Haven't yet." He reaches out, plucking my weapon from the air. "But I've been dreaming about you trying to kill me again."

I let go of everything, every inhibition and warning, every ounce of self-control as power pours out of me. The market square passes me by in a blur as I become a streak of fire cutting through the air. This monster will die. He will die, or I will trying to make it so.

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