Runesight

Epilogue

--- Turste ---

Turste screamed as he felt the fire, he tore at the walls and raved his madness to them, feeling as the primal terror of the flames enveloped him. The fear was so horrible that Turste could barely contain himself from it. It weakened his limbs as he pulled at the rocks around him, feeling the once strong body betray him as it tried so hard to escape anyway.

This wasn't right though, Turste remembered. He remembered winters spent as the ash started to fall, he remembered the heat of the volcanoes after they'd finished spewing their contents across the land. Turste remembered when he'd become a ferien, he remembered how friendly that fire had been to him.

He tore at the walls anyway, the body of wood betraying his mind as it convinced itself there was no life to be found if he was reduced to ash. There was no way that he could live if his soul was burned to a crisp.

Terrible, horrible death that would destroy his weak weak body. He was too weak, he needed a stronger body, he...

Memories accosted Turste, two women in this house, if one of them died could he grow on them instead? He wasn't sure how mushrooms worked but he was pretty sure he could do that if he went carefully.

His body didn't want to listen though as he told it to attack the door instead, to find them and uh...figure it out? Oh winters and stars above he was doomed like this. He wasn't sure how long he slashed at the stone, fighting for control of the wooden body as it continued to panic, but he couldn't see any progress on his own part.

He was better than this though, majestic, beautiful, he was the flame, the ash, the hunter of the desolate winters. He was a ferien, he'd only ever been happy as a ferien. He remembered watching as the seasons moved onward. After the ash there was always the spring, life always grew from those ashes even if cities were burned to rubble. People found a way.

Turste growled as the door opened, he narrowed his gaze at the person there, a descendant of the Alanerea. The one who stank of far off winds and subtle illusions. She was tired, covered in burns and scrapes. She gazed at him with a lost look. "We can't get out." She explained, watching him as he snarled at her and continued scraping at the stones. He heard a loud, terrible cough from her direction

But...

But...

There was a door right there. The one that led up the stairs and out of the ground. Couldn't he tear past her and find a wall of wood to destroy? Couldn't he find a place away from the flames.

But...

There was more fire in that direction, he could see it curling around the stairs.

He tore at the stones, growling in pain and terror as the illusionist approached him. The wind did something strange around her, it blew the flames, strong enough to put most of the nearby ones out. Others it only strengthened, it might have bought time though.

With effort, Turste managed to speak, "I'm...dying."

She coughed, "Yes, so am I. I can't find Fari but someone put up a dimensional barrier. With luck she wasn't here when it started." She gazed up at the ceiling, where there was more fire. She started muttering to herself. "I tried breaking down the door, I tried opening windows, I tried blowing up the wall with my explosives, but there's a ward against those somehow. My wind affinity is being impaired, and I can barely shape it. How the sparks didn't I feel them set all this up? Even the walls are burning far too slowly to be natural. The stone is on fire but it's not breaking down as fast as it should..."