The first thing Elias became aware of was warmth.
Not the sharp, burning kind that clawed at his nerves, but something dull and steady beneath his cheek. Fabric. Aside the scent smoke, and...blood?
He groaned.
The sound felt like it scraped the inside of his skull on the way out.
"Oh—hey, no, no, don't—"
Hands pressed gently but firmly against his shoulders, easing him back down before he could sit up. Elias hissed as pain flared behind his eyes, a spike so sharp it made his vision white for a second.
"Easy," Jamie said. Her voice wobbled despite the word. "Easy, idiot."
The world swam back into focus in pieces. Grey sky above, smoke curling lazily upward, the warped silhouettes of broken trees. And then—fabric again. Dark trousers. A familiar knee.
His cheek was resting on her lap.
Elias blinked.
Slowly, he turned his head, every movement echoing inside his skull like a struck bell. Jamie was looking down at him, her face smudged with soot and frozen dirt, hair disheveled, eyes a little too bright.
Relief, raw and unguarded, sat naked on her expression.
"Oh thank the stars," she breathed. "You're back. You're—you're normal again."
"Nor…mal?" Elias echoed weakly.
The word tasted strange.
He lifted a trembling hand and touched his face. Skin. Sweat. Soot. No lacquer. No carved ridges. No hum beneath his fingers.
The mask was gone.
His brow furrowed as he pushed himself up onto an elbow, immediately regretting it as the world lurched. Images slammed into his mind—fire, heat so intense it felt hungry, shapes moving too fast, a sensation like something vast and laughing just behind his eyes.
Too vague. Too fragmented.
"…What," he croaked, "happened?"
Before Jamie could answer, rough hands seized the front of his coat and yanked him upright.
"Do you have any idea," a hoarse voice snarled inches from his face, "what you bloody well did, you suicidal little shit?"
Elias winced as pain exploded behind his eyes again. He squinted up at the speaker.
S.K.
The old man looked worse than before. His tunic was scorched and torn, one sleeve soaked dark with blood. Soot streaked his face, and his eyes—sharp, furious, and very much alive—burned into Elias like drill bits.
"You put on an artifact that could've shattered your soul into screaming fragments, worse taken us to the other side with you." S.K went on, shaking him once.
"Do you have any conception of how close you were to—"
A reflex snapped through Elias.
Flow surged.
A thin, crackling bolt jumped from Elias's fingers and slammed into S.K's arm. The old man cursed colorfully as he was thrown back a step, bare feet skidding in the snow.
Elias immediately slumped, dizziness overwhelming him, his heart hammering then threw up.
"Hey!" Jamie quickly came over to Elias and rubbed his back.
" He's not feeling alright, leave him be, alright?"
S.K steadied himself, breathing hard, then glared past her at Elias.
"…Hmph, of course the little cunt isn't feeling alright. Who would after hosting that entity."
'Entity? What is he talking about?'
Elias rubbed his temples, trying to force his thoughts into order. He looked around properly for the first time.
The clearing was ruined.
What had once been packed snow was now a churned mess of overturned earth and melted slush, forming a wide, boiling pool of murky water that reflected the ashen sky. Deep clawmarks gouged the ground, some wide enough to fit a person's torso. Trees nearby were scorched black or snapped entirely.
The shack was gone.
Not collapsed—obliterated. Only fragments of charred wood and splintered beams remained, scattered like bones after an explosion. Blood stained the snow in dark patches.
One pool, half-frozen at the edges, contained something pale.
An arm.
Elias swallowed.
"…Jamie," he said slowly. "What happened."
She scratched the back of her neck, eyes darting around as if trying to decide where to start.
"Well," she said, "you kinda—uh—put on this weird fox mask thing, right? And then you just—whoosh—got all glowy and angry?"
"Angry," Elias repeated faintly.
"Yeah! Like, real mad. You sprouted these—" she gestured vaguely behind her back, fingers splayed, "—tail-looking energy things, all wavy and sharp, and then there was fire. A lot of fire. Not normal fire either. Like… mean fire."
She paused, frowning.
"It smelled wrong," she added. "Like burning metal and… feelings."
Elias closed his eyes.
"That… doesn't help."
"But then you went after that sword guy," Jamie continued, undeterred. "That big jerk tried to fight back, but you wrecked him. You hit him with flames, lots of them and smashed him into the ground, and—uh—ripped his arm off. Among other things."
She winced. " It was gross and awesome at the same time."
Elias opened his eyes again, bile rising in his throat.
Across the clearing, S.K stood a short distance away, holding the fox mask at arm's length with a reinforced hand. A thick, angular talisman had been slapped onto its forehead, glowing faintly as it suppressed whatever lurked inside.
"Lucky," S.K muttered.
"Bloody lucky to be breathing."
Elias met his glare, tension tightening his chest.
Before either could say more, S.K stiffened.
"…Wait."
His eyes snapped to the severed arm.
"Oh no."
S.K swore violently and broke into a run toward the limb.
"…Shit."
Elsewhere, deeper in the forest—
The man crawled.
Every movement sent agony tearing through what remained of his body. One arm was gone, ripped away in a spray of blood and heat. One leg was a broken and dragging limply. Burns crawled across his torso, blackened flesh still cracked and smouldering. He clutched at his abdomen with his remaining hand, fingers slick as he tried to keep his insides from spilling out.
"Didn't…" he coughed, blood splattering the snow. "Didn't expect… the boy…to have access to a Soul-Bound Artifact. "
He laughed weakly, then vomited again.
"…Soul-incinerating flames," he rasped. "Cheeky bastard."
His vision blurred, but his mind clung desperately to purpose.
Doesn't matter.
He knew the location now. He'd seen enough.
All he had to do was report—
A sudden, crushing pressure slammed into his chest.
Not physical.
Spiritual.
His soul screamed as something found him.
Back in the clearing, S.K knelt beside the severed arm and drew an array around it with quick, practiced motions. The circle flared faintly as it closed.
Elias and Jamie hurried over, wincing as the headache flared again.
"What are you doing?" Jamie asked.
S.K didn't look up. "Cleaning up your mess."
Elias frowned. "He escaped. How does—"
"The body is a vessel," S.K snapped.
"And the soul fills it. Sever the vessel, you sever the soul with it."
He picked up a regular short stick from the ground, its tip sharp and pointed. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he infused a piece of his own soul into the stick.
"Even in pieces," S.K continued grimly, "the soul remains linked. That arm is a fragment."
He drove the stick through the center of the severed limb. By drawing an array around the severed arm, he turned it into a conduit. He then infused a fragment of his own soul into the ritual, using the arm as a catalyst and the soul fragment within as a point of contact.
Because soul fragments remain connected, the surge traveled through the link and overwhelmed the man.
The array flared blindingly bright.
Far away, the man convulsed as an overwhelming wave tore through him. His soul unraveled in an instant—snuffed out before he could even scream. His body slid limply into the stream below and was carried away without ceremony.
Back in the clearing, the arm turned ashen.
Dead.
S.K exhaled slowly and stood.
He turned.
His glare locked onto Elias.
Elias, still dazed, still aching, met it without flinching.
For a few moments, Jamie stood with her hand behind her, her gaze shifting from one to the other.
"…Okay," she said carefully.
"This is awkward."