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  Dead as a doornail. 

  Emberchase's skin felt the cold grasp of fear and the shivers of his own chilly sweat as the two of them ran. He quickly grabbed the boy's elbow and prodded him on, but to his surprise, the boy bit his hand and cast him such a hostile glare that he had to look away.

  They were still inside the crypt. Still inside the damned dead hole where the children waiting to be rescued cried and cried, but the man knew better than to push his luck. The stomping and the voices grew louder, and there was almost no place left to hide for a person his size.

  Where was Fier? Emberchase looked around desperately until a white-tipped tail caught his vision. She was crouching, growling at a fat rat that bore a hole through one of the sacks of grain probably stocked up by the people in the village for winter purposes. Sacks? Oh goodness, Asagai was still giving him such a cold look.

  Dead. Dead. Dead. Probably stabbed to death by Reisyce, his limbs crushed and battered and crippled beyond recognition, his already scarred face lined with brand-new ones, bleeding endlessly, his meat protruding from the skin. Oh, how powerful fear was! It filled the heart with such nasty images that made the knees weak and the mind as frail as glass.

  "Emberchase!" Asagai's shrill voice almost ended the terrors in his head. Almost. What now? Why had he gotten as far as to try and save the child, anyway? It was his fault he got caught.

  "What?" the fire-dancer snapped back. His stomach coiled with disgust at the reeking stench of mingled sweat and decay. That punch the boy had landed on his gut still ached, but he pushed that unnecessary sensation away and focused on finding a hiding spot. A good hiding spot.

  "We have to get out of here first, you hear me? We don't have time." Emberchase began arranging the sacks and pushing them round, forming a barricade tall enough for him. He grimaced when something incredibly hard landed on his left shoulder, then realized that the boy had punched him again.

  The fire-dancer spun so suddenly that the lad flinched as if he had struck him back. He held Asagai's flimsy tunic so tightly his knuckles strained.

  "Listen and listen well, boy!" he shouted in his face, almost forgetting about the men searching for them overhead. "You and I are gonna get butchered if we don't hide properly. So quit being such a child and get a grip!"

  "You left me behind before," reasoned Asagai, his head bent down, but with a voice still as defiant as ever. "What makes you think I'll still trust you?"

  Emberchase rolled his eyes. The steps above overlapped each other more and more frequently. They were splitting up. How long would it take the rooks to notice that he hadn't fled, but was still in the crypt?

  The boy was still thrusting Emberchase an icy glare even after his barricade had finished and the two of them were hidden quite snugly underneath. Fier placed her snout on his lap, expecting her master to coddle her like he always did when she wanted attention. The footfalls came down the winding stairs, cursing and yelling about how Reisyce disturbed their sleep.

  The fire-dancer surreptitiously peeked at the boy's forlorn figure, his small but sturdy fists curled tight, his soot-like irises staring angrily into the dirty wall. He had left the child earlier to save his own skin, Emberchase had to admit that it was true. The mere presence of Foxface in front of him had sent his mind in total jeopardy, and his scars ached and burned with fiery need, desperately begging him to flee before that dreaded knife carves another memento in his face.

  He had fled indeed, into the woods and clambered atop a young sequoia. He had managed to erase his original tracks and had created a diversion for the other rooks to follow, all before attempting to continue his journey towards Amoria alone. His thoughts about the boy were no more than scenes he could easily tuck into the back of his mind, and if Emberchase had to be perfectly honest, he really couldn't care less.

  If only his vixen had thought so, too.

  "Quit your crying!" hollered a rook, his voice loud and strained as he smacked his sword against the bars. Instinctively, Asagai flinched.

  Emberchase shuddered, for he had already imagined the said man right behind them, more than ready to rend and tear. He crouched even further and sank back, though the boy still stared and stared, and for a moment the fire-dancer suspected that he saw what was in his heart. Something warm entered his chest and devoured it, setting his thoughts about the young one ablaze. Guilt had made his face burn hot with shame. What had he done?

  The fox inched closer towards Asagai, placing her wet snout on his scathed, bare feet. For the first time that night, a small smile crept into the young lad's scrunched up face. He reached out to pat her ginger fur, but when his fingers brushed against Fier's forehead, she bared her glass teeth and snarled.

  "Scratch her behind the ears if you want," whispered Emberchase carefully, his gaze lingering warily on the boy's figure. He still had an icy look inside his eyes, and the weaver of flames wanted to burn himself. What had he done?

  "She won't bite you if you do so, probably because she's used to it," he continued, still bracing for another cold glare sure to freeze him any moment. The voices on the surface grew louder, though their footsteps had presumably turned slower and... softer.

  Asagai obliged silently, his rigid form relaxing as he placed a few fingers behind the vixen's ear. Fier's fuzzy tail twitched back and forth as she leaned her head towards the boy's hand. Emberchase's chest felt considerably lighter at the boy's childish treble. He breathed deeply, glancing above and feeling the steps overhead. Quiet. Dead. Dead and quiet.

  "We need to get out of here now," announced Emberchase, his eyes wryly darting to and fro. The caged animals in his breast ran rampant again, burning fiercely and wildly, telling him to run and run, flee and never look back again. Fear. It rendered his heart and mind useless as a rock. Dead.

  The children's cries grew louder, and it rang inside his ears and filled his mind with guilt. What a terrifying monster guilt was! It extended its gnarly arms and squeezed his chest, spinning webs of heroic-sounding promises never to come true. Damn it all! If only he could help such hapless little ones, too...

  "Come on, faster." The fire-dancer trudged Asagai on, but the boy just stared into the second room in the crypt, where the sounds of the wailing and sobbing of the fourteen children dragged on.

  "What about them? Are we going to leave them here?" How hopeful the boy looked!

  "We don't have a choice, boy." Emberchase avoided those young, naïve eyes. Fourteen little ones running from the crypt up the winding staircase? Who the hell wouldn't notice that? Perhaps an entire guild of blind and deaf rooks, but not the Dead Spot, and certainly not a knife-thrower as keen as Reisyce.

  They wouldn't stand a chance, and by the look of absolute abhorrence in the young thief's face, he also knew better. The lad glanced back at the door one last time before briskly following Emberchase. His charcoal irises still burned with cold rage.

  They climbed up the stairs sneakily, with the vixen trotting in front. Fortunately, they encountered not a single soul down the winding stairs, and the weaver of flames could almost smile at the fresh breezy scent greeting them longingly. Thank goodness they weren't trapped in that ash-and-bone-filled dump.

  The boy glanced round the entire structure as if he had never witnessed anything so complicated in his entire life. The moon, though still as thin as a slice of lemon, shone through the ruined battlements behind the church grounds. A few roses and flickerflames grew and had taken root in the neolithic pile of broken marbles and stone walls, along with a small gallow in which the sinned were hanged. Beautiful and terrible.

  Thoughts of death swam uncontrollably inside Emberchase's head so rapidly that he eventually felt dizzy, but the boy stared outside, enticed by the night's lovely charade. Perhaps he was indeed still a child... a child who could forget the deadly matters with just the right pinch of beauty.

  The fire-dancer gripped the lad's wrist — thankfully he didn't bite him this time around — and began dragging him towards the second exit of the abandoned building. If he had remembered everything correctly, then a harmless, empty barn stood just beside the abode. Asagai's fierce black orbs stared into his face, seemingly contemplating on whether to finally trust him again or not. 

  Emberchase wouldn't be surprised if the thief believed in the latter. He was never a faithful, loyal bastard, after all.

  "We need to make the rooks believe that we've escaped and are already far away," Emberchase explained, strictly reminding himself to keep his voice low.

  "Won't they search the closest areas first?" retorted the boy, his voice laced with complete distrust.

  "Have you ever even played hide and seek back in your village, or at least with your peers?" the fire-dancer shot back impassively. "The ones who are looking for the other players just seem to neglect the hiding places closer to their radius. That's because they think further meant safer. I beg to differ."

  "I don't really care about strategies used in games," replied Asagai, "and what the heck is this 'hide and seek,' anyway? I've never heard of it." Smoke began rising from the direction of the village with the dilapidated houses, quickly seeping inside the supposed place of holiness. The boy's nose crinkled as he sniffed.

  'That's our cue,' Emberchase spoke into his own mind as the two of them stood hastily and scampered down the marble stairs. Everything was quiet — eerily quiet, as if the darkness itself had swallowed the members of Dead Spot. Asagai glanced at the empty, godforsaken place as if he had also pitied what it had now turned into.

  But as the backdoor opened with an exhausted creak, Emberchase was met with Reisyce's drowsy figure, his hand clutching a mug of smoking cocoa, his cat-eyes glassy and blinking rather sleepily.

  The three of them were so taken aback by the unexpected blessing of each other's company that it had literally taken the still numb Foxface a few seconds to react. Perhaps he was thinking that everything was just a dream. Emberchase would've traded his own fox for such a quirk too — if only the crippling pain in his chest didn't convince him otherwise.

  Asagai was the only one fast enough to react. With a sudden scream that snapped the two men from their trance, the thief pushed his entire weight into the knife-thrower's body, shoving him out of the doorway and gaining an opening wide enough for his lithe figure to slip past.

  Then, much to the weaver of flame's horror, the boy's thin, almost female-like fingers twined themselves on the man's waist and hovered over his belt, where he had often placed his beloved knife when not in use. Asagai's touch, too feathery and light for even the knife-thrower to comprehend, grabbed the amethyst-encrusted pommel first before pulling the entire thing out of Foxface's range as if the dagger was nothing more than an extension of his young body. Young and utterly horrendous.

  Was that a triumphant smirk Emberchase briefly saw on the boy's chapped lips?

  "You thrice-accursed bastard!" Reisyce finally realized what had happened and his hand instinctively went to his belt, only to realize that the knife he had treated with so much care was now in the boy's quivering hands. Emberchase wondered for a moment why such nimble hands shook even though they displayed magnificent skill.

  "Good riddance," Asagai spat, seemingly imitating what the fire-dancer had said earlier that day. Indeed, the child was a cunning little monster.

  Taking advantage of Reisyce's befuddlement, Emberchase hurriedly shoved past him as well, his desperate eyes more focused upon finding a path to safety. Voices and heavy footfalls had loomed closer to the knoll, and the scarred man bit back the victory dance forming in his head. No, perhaps the boy was dumber than he seemed. Why had he screamed? It attracted more attention.

  The fire-dancer heard the howling dogs on the edges of the forest. Damn, no way out there either. Fier was already running towards the only place beckoning them over, telling them to take shelter from the incoming rain of metal weapons, curses, and lots of slaughtering ideas.

  Dead. Dead. Dead. Here came the thoughts again.

  Emberchase shook them off as he followed his vixen, shortly tailed by the young thief. The other rooks drew their swords and charged towards them with curses and loud screams, but Asagai and the fire-dancer had already closed the doors and barred them shut.

  Great. Now they were shut inside.

  "We're gonna die," whispered Emberchase hoarsely, leaning his weakened body against the door, his arm propped on a pile of hay. There were so much of those things just lying round the place that the scarred man doubted if there were any animals in this village at all.

  Asagai was staring intently at the roundel in his hands, his curious little fingers caressing the hilt lovingly. Emberchase bet his head the boy was thinking about how much it would cost in the black market. 

  "Did you see the look on Foxface's face?" A grin had slowly crept into the boy's face. Emberchase just stared at him with complete incredulity.

  "He looked so devastated and confused at the same time!" continued the boy, his eyes locked into the certain object.

  "Yes, I had to admit, his face gave me pleasure too, but they're going to kill us and burn us like witches if we don't find a way to hide in the forest," breathed the scarred man.

  The voices outside were growing louder and shriller, and the doors in which the fire-dancer had been leaning on began shaking violently. Emberchase heard Reisyce screaming wildly, his uncontrolled screeches ringing in his ears.

  Asagai chuckled as if he was amused, but his eyes were still cold — colder than the sweat pouring down the dancer's forehead. He twirled the dagger with growing fascination, as if nothing else mattered.

  "Burn them down, then!" declared the boy as if killing had never been easier. "Call unto your fire and order it to devour the black-jackets! Then we can save the children and lead them away from the village! Everything will turn out great!"

  "It doesn't work that way!" Emberchase quipped, his voice stating that nothing more about burning ought to be discussed again. The scars on his face began to hurt, reminding him of all the sins he had committed. Damn.

  "Why not? Those rooks were already burning the village down! We can do the same! They're not the only ones who know how to kill!" The cruel chills the boy possessed in his eyes made the fire-dancer shiver. How could he talk about death and killing so easily like that?

  'Well, Emberchase,' a voice inside him retorted, 'he came from Xaddercrux. Death is nothing but a casual sight to behold there. After all... you yourself knew that from experience.'

  Emberchase just pushed that thought away and allowed his eyes to roam free, searching for a way out. Hay, Fier clawing at the wall, a small window above it — yes!

  Emberchase uttered a startled scream when a sword ran through the side of the wooden door, and it was just a hand's breadth to his stomach. What if that evil, ominous thing moved just a little bit? His life would've ended on the spot. Damn this unprofessional rescue mission of his.

  As the fire-dancer moved away from the door with nervous, shaky steps, Asagai cast him another icy glance, a malicious grin on his small face. Then he looked above and saw the small window. It was out of reach for the both of them, so Emberchase stacked the lumps of hay against each other and clambered upwards.

  The weaver of flame's heart pounded even louder with each bang and thud, and he nearly gasped when the all too familiar scent of smoke and fire rose and flitted round the barn. No, fire was spreading so quickly already. And when it got big, not even his soft words would be enough to satiate its monstrous greed.

  The boy said nothing as he helped out the fire-dancer stack up the pieces of hay, but Emberchase had sensed the lingering hostility, nonetheless. More and more smoke entered and roamed inside, until finally the man understood Reisyce's plan. It was risky, considering the Foxface's fear of fire, but he did it anyway.

  Flames licked and gulped the edges of the fragile wood, their long arms reaching up for the small patches of hay all over the ground. Asagai began coughing, smoke getting into both their lungs and slowly snatching up the very air they needed. His eyes hurt, and tears nearly threatened to fall. The banging was back, louder than ever. The wooden doors screamed, defeated, as Snapjaw kicked it open with his boorish thighs. More and more smoke entered, along with the rooks and their hounds, letting them run wild, each barking sound nearly enough to shatter his ears.

  Asagai threw his fox out the window as if she was nothing but a mere sack of potatoes. Emberchase could hardly see, but as he clambered upwards to the small window he heard a certain someone curse... and it belonged to the one who lost his beloved weapon.

  The hay hardly managed to support his weight, so the fire-dancer extended his hands but barely reached the window sill. Asagai was sitting there, looking exhausted, the amethyst roundel on his pants. But the young thief couldn't care less about his predicament and proceeded to jump without waiting for him, and Emberchase almost smiled. Almost. Oh, what irony.

  'Looks like he's learning from you, after all,' a mocking voice taunted inside his mind. Reluctantly, Emberchase shoved the thoughts away again. He couldn't be bothered by such things now. The tips of his fingers finally gripped the sill, though his feet couldn't find anything to grapple on, and the fire-dancer just stood there on his tiptoes for a few minutes, looking awkward.

   Great. He was already guessing which one of his organs will spill out of his body first.

  "The big bad wolf howls at your doorstep, fire-dancer! Remember that!" It was Reisyce. He had drawn Snapjaw's sword and held it high in the air. Emberchase's heart raced so fast he wouldn't have thought it belonged to him and not some sort of machine. His fingers froze in place — who was he kidding?

  His entire body froze, but all he cared about was the oath. Dead Spot's oath. The dogs were barking at him so loudly he couldn't hear what that damned Foxface was saying. Not that it mattered, for the man loved talking. The smoke got into his eyes, and as the flames angrily lapped up the stacks of hay underneath him. They were collapsing, and Emberchase's entire world seemed to tilt sideways.

  Oh, wait. He was actually falling. Now he was indeed dead.

  But then he stopped, and the fire-dancer found himself being hauled into the square window by the boy who was still giving him chilly glares. Asagai's face was beet red with effort, both his thin arms on his hands. Emberchase strained to lift himself up, his legs flailing as he kicked back the stack of hay and fed them to the raging fire.

  Reisyce and the rest of the black-jackets were no more, for the thick cloud of smoke and ashes and blazing flames had obliterated his vision, and when Emberchase turned and opened his eyes, he saw that they were falling, the image of the grass growing larger and larger.

  And fell they did indeed, both faces landing on the ground with a dull thud. Fier bounded towards them, her tail wagging excitedly as if she knew what was going on and was relieved to witness her master alive and well. She trotted towards them and licked the young boy's chin with her sandpaper tongue.

  Now his fox preferred the boy. Emberchase smoothed the creases on his tunic and sighed. He was a hopeless cause, so maybe the vixen finally got sick of him.

  "You could've just left me in there, just like how I left you alone before," murmured Emberchase, his gaze landing onto the boy's scathed feet. How did he even manage to walk with all those wounds and bites?

  "You're still of some use to me," replied the boy coolly, as if everything that had happened to them were nothing more than pretend. He stood up, brushed the grime and the strands of straw off his pants and fished out his latest prize: Reisyce's valuable, amethyst-encrusted roundel.

  Emberchase shrugged rather nonchalantly as he stood and tried to recall where he had placed his rucksack. Fier ran off first, shortly followed by the boy — who had glanced at him with soot-black eyes filled with hesitancy. No, the boy wasn't looking at him. His young, naïve eyes had been staring into the destruction they had miraculously escaped from.

  The village had been consumed by the fire, their ashen hands and flaming mouth toppling and breaking those structures that people had built for ages in merely seconds. From afar, the giant blaze looked nothing more than a bonfire. The moon hid behind the clouds, seemingly terrified of the crimes unfolding in front of her innocent eyes.

  But as Emberchase walked further, another image flashed into his mind incessantly. And in it was a scenery of him making sure that everything and everyone had burned down to the ground, fire laughing by his side like the menacing Cerberus.

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  Hello there, dearest fire-readers! Thank you so much for checking out this chapter!

  Also, I'm so happy that you've reached a milestone! We're finally at chapter 10! *shoots confetti!* 🎉

  Thanks for anyone bothering to stay with me for this long... and... I'm so sorry for the months of delayed update. I was facing problems, most of them financially. I hope you guys understand.

  Hope you stay tuned for the next update!

  awesomeSTG 🔥