19 years later
The house sat low against the sand, half-buried by drifting dunes like the desert was slowly trying to reclaim it. Its walls were made of sun-baked stone and clay, patched carefully over years by hands that preferred peace over grandeur. A thin trail of smoke curled from the chimney, carrying the smell of spiced grain and oil into the evening air.
Inside, the world was quiet.
Dave(the slave) stood at the small cooking table, sleeves rolled up, brow furrowed in concentration as he stirred a pot. His movements were practiced now—steady, deliberate. Not rushed. Not clumsy like they used to be. He tasted the broth, grimaced, added more salt, then nodded to himself.
Behind him, the Mournveil(Darkness twin) sat cross-legged on the floor.
He hadn't moved in hours.
His back was straight, eyes closed, breath slow and even. Shadows pooled naturally around him, not aggressive, not alive—just present, like a second skin. They rose and fell with his breathing, stretching and settling in gentle waves.
Dave glanced over his shoulder.
"You're gonna go stiff if you sit like that all night," he said.
No response.
Davs rolled his eyes and turned back to the pot. "I'm not carrying you to bed again."
A pause.
Then, faintly, "You said that last time too."
Dave smirked. "And I did it anyway."
The Mournveil opened his eyes. The purple glow was softer now, dulled by years of restraint. He rose smoothly to his feet and walked over, peering into the pot.
"It smells better than yesterday," he said.
"That's because yesterday you distracted me by letting the cards catch fire."
"I didn't let them."
"You glared at them."
A rare, small smile tugged at the Mournveil's mouth.
They ate together on the floor, backs against the wall, listening to the wind brush against the house. They argued over cards afterward. Dave accused him of cheating. The Mournveil denied it without blinking.
The night settled in like it always did.
Quiet.
Safe.
Then—
BOOM.
The world shattered.
The walls erupted in orange light as heat punched through the house like a living thing. The air screamed. Sand fused into glass mid-explosion. Dave felt himself lifted off the ground and hurled through the wall as fire swallowed everything.
He hit the sand hard, the breath ripped from his lungs.
Smoke choked him. His ears rang. Flames roared behind him, eating the remains of the house with greedy hunger.
"NO—!" Dave screamed, scrambling to his feet.
A figure stood atop a nearby dune.
Tall. Broad. Surrounded by spiraling fire that moved like it obeyed him. The flames curled upward, forming shapes—claws, wings, a throne of heat and destruction.
A familiar voice echoed through the inferno.
"I finally found you, brother."
Dave's heart stopped.
The Fire Twin(Kendrick) stepped forward, fire coiling around his arms like dragons ready to strike. His eyes burned brighter than the flames themselves.
Dave turned back toward the ruins.
Mournveil stood there.
Still.
Between Dave and the firestorm.
Calm.
Like he'd known this moment would come.
"Dave," he said quietly. "Get back."
Before Mimic could answer, Kendrick raised his arm.
The air compressed.
A wave of fire shaped like a roaring beast tore through the ruins.
The Mournveil took it head-on.
The impact was catastrophic.
Dave was thrown again, smashed through collapsing glass and stone. He landed hard, something tearing in his side. Blood filled his mouth. He coughed, choking on smoke and pain.
"DON'T TOUCH HIM!" he screamed.
The house collapsed inward.
Flames devoured everything.
The smoke cleared slowly, embers drifting like falling stars.
Dave dragged himself forward.
"Please…" he whispered.
There was no movement.
The Mournveil lay buried beneath burning debris, shadows flickering weakly before fading beneath the weight.
Dave's vision blurred.
Not again.
Not him.
He clawed at the sand, sobbing openly now. "Don't die… please… not you too…"
Something cracked inside him.
Fear twisted into rage.
Rage ignited into something else entirely.
Dave screamed.
The sound tore through the desert, raw and broken, shaking the flames themselves. Fire rushed toward him—and then stopped.
The heat didn't burn.
It sank into him.
Not red.
Not yellow.
White.
The fire around him changed.
It lost its smoke. Its roar became silent. The air warped violently as the temperature spiked beyond anything natural. Sand turned to liquid. Metal melted instantly.
White flame erupted from Mimic's body like wings unfurling.
Kendrick staggered back.
"That's—" His voice wavered. "That's not my fire."
Dave stood.
The flames didn't harm him. Tears evaporated the instant they formed. Veins of glowing red traced across his eyes, his aura blazing white-hot.
A symbol burned itself onto his forehead.
"You hurt," Davs said, voice shaking with fury, "the only person who ever chose me."
The white flame roared.
Not like a warrior's stance.
Like a wildfire.
Uncontrolled.
Unforgiving.
The Fire Twin took another step back.
For the first time in centuries—
He was afraid.
Behind them, beneath the ruins—
Something stirred.
And darkness waited.