The Fire That Stood Against Twelve
The explosion wasn't a roar of thunder; it was a predatory strike—a living thing unleashed.
A pressure wave, dense and brutal, ripped through the Emberwood house. The street shattered around it. Lantern glass exploded into a shower of glittering shards. Stone slabs cracked like brittle bones. Clay roof tiles tore free, becoming deadly shrapnel flung into the night. The air itself vibrated, thick with the scent of ozone and pulverized stone.
The world tilted on its axis. The floor bucked beneath Valtherion's feet, and for a heart-stopping moment, he forgot the simple act of breathing. Dust and fear coated his tongue.
But Ardan—his father—reacted with inhuman speed, a shield against the storm.
"Fire Wall!"
His voice, a command forged in the heart of a forge, resonated with power.
A column of roaring flame erupted in the front yard, a layered barrier against annihilation. Heat shimmered, distorting the air into swirling mirages. Sparks erupted like miniature suns as the blast slammed into the wall. Emberwood groaned, boards twisting, foundations cracking—but it held.
Valtherion staggered, gripping the railing, the wood rough against his trembling skin.
This can't be happening. Not here. Not now.
His mind screamed in frantic denial. We're just a family. We don't deserve this.
His heart hammered wildly. His ears rang with the echo of the explosion. His hands shook uncontrollably.
Lira—the woman who had raised him, whose smile had always been as warm as the hearth—stood beside Ardan, golden flames licking her arms like living armor. Her face was sharp with focus, fear etched into the corners of her eyes, but not for herself.
"They're not probing," she hissed. "They didn't test the barrier. They didn't measure your reaction. This is a kill strike."
Ardan's jaw clenched. The fire around his fists intensified, burning a violent crimson. The air crackled with energy, sulfur stinging Valtherion's nostrils.
"Then we return the favor."
He stepped forward, boots crunching over the shattered remains of their once-peaceful home.
Lira moved with him, a mirror of fiery resolve.
And the world answered with destruction.
Twelve figures materialized in the yard, moving in synchronized silence. Their cloaks were different colors, each radiating a distinct power. Their presence pressed down like a suffocating weight, the air itself rejecting Valtherion's lungs.
Wind twisted into razor-edged blades. Water condensed into floating spears sharp enough to pierce stone. Lightning crackled like coiling serpents. Earth pulsed with deep, guttural tremors. Nature's vines writhed like living whips. Ice glittered with killing intent. And stranger forces—rarer, unseen—throbbed with invisible menace.
Valtherion froze, breath caught in his throat.
He didn't understand the intricacies of what he was witnessing.
He didn't know the hierarchy of power. He didn't know what High Element meant, or the difference between a simple fire user and the cloaked figures before him.
But he felt it.
A primal understanding that bypassed logic.
The crushing pressure in his chest. The air turning sharp and metallic with every breath. The instinctive warning screaming in his mind:
These people are death incarnate.
The wooden railing creaked beneath his grip, splinters biting into his skin.
My parents… they're going to fight that?
The thought struck like ice.
His parents—the ones who cooked for him, laughed with him, tucked him in at night—were standing against twelve monsters.
His legs threatened to buckle. His vision blurred.
No. This can't be real.
Ardan pushed the flaming door open and stepped into the inferno.
One step.
That was all it took.
The temperature of the entire yard skyrocketed. Flames spiraled behind him, a cyclone threatening to consume everything. His body became the epicenter of rising heat, the scent of ozone and burning wood thickening.
Lira followed, golden fire swirling around her like a protective ribbon.
Ardan raised his arm, flames pulsing with restrained fury.
"This is your final warning."
His voice was calm—too calm—steel beneath the warmth Valtherion knew.
The Twelve did not respond.
They moved.
Wind Cloak lunged, air shredding around him. Ardan met him mid-step, spinning through the cyclone, fists igniting into twin comet trails of crimson fire. The impact splintered the earth, launching Wind Cloak backward into Lightning Cloak, whose coils of energy arced wildly, scorching nearby walls.
Water Cloak surged, spears flying like a deadly rain. Lira danced through the torrent, her fire ribbons melting each projectile midair. Her steps were precise, a choreography of flame and motion.
Earth Cloak stomped, sending shockwaves that buckled the street. Ardan slammed a flaming gauntlet into the ground, erupting molten pillars to deflect the tremors.
Ice Cloak struck next, sending an avalanche of frost and jagged shards hurling toward Lira. She countered with a sweeping ring of golden fire, the ice evaporating with a hiss that carried like thunder.
Nature Cloak lashed from the side, thorned vines snapping at Ardan. He pivoted, swinging an arm of roaring fire, incinerating the whips before they could reach him.
Lightning Cloak returned, arcs leaping across the battlefield. Ardan deflected them into the sky, scattering sparks like a miniature storm. Lira's flames carved channels of heat through the rain, turning it into scalding vapor.
One by one, the Twelve converged, each attack met with blazing countermeasures. Fire against ice. Fire against water. Fire against wind. Fire against earth. Fire against the unnatural.
Buildings shattered. Streets cracked. Trees ignited. Lightning carved the night. The entire harbor quaked under the sheer force of their struggle.
Valtherion watched in horror, unable to blink. Every second stretched into a lifetime. His parents moved as one—a symphony of heat, light, and fury—yet the sheer power of the Twelve threatened to overwhelm them with every breath.
Ardan launched himself into the air, a flaming spear of molten motion, slamming into Earth Cloak with a seismic punch. Rocks exploded outward. Wind Cloak surged to intercept, only to be thrown back by the shockwave. Lira's fire ribbons danced around him, cutting through Water Cloak's rising torrent.
Ice Cloak reshaped the battlefield, sending frost spikes in impossible trajectories, aiming to trap them. Ardan countered with a whirlwind of fire and force, melting frost into hissing steam that enveloped friend and foe alike.
The Twelve moved with perfect coordination, pressing relentlessly, but the parents adapted—countering, striking, dodging, and punishing—turning their own home into a battlefield, flames their only constant.
But even the most skilled dance has its breaking point. Ardan stumbled slightly. Lira's flames flickered as exhaustion set in. They could only hold back the storm for so long.
Valtherion screamed, "Mom! Dad!"
Lira dropped to one knee, gripping his shoulders, sweat streaking her face.
"Val… listen to me!"
"I don't want to listen! I want to help—"
Ardan staggered inside, blood running down his arm, his cloak burned away.
"Lira," he gasped. "Now."
She tightened her grip.
"Valtherion… there's something you need to understand."
Her eyes filled with fear—not of death, but of losing him.
"Someone wants you," she whispered. "Someone powerful."
The world went silent.
"W-Why? I'm nobody…"
"No," she said softly. "You're our son."
Outside, twelve auras flared brighter than the sun.
Too bright.
Too synchronized.
Something enormous was forming.
"They're charging a convergence attack," Ardan said grimly. "If it goes off, the harbor is gone."
PING!
⟢ SYSTEM ALERT
⟢ Convergence Attack: INCOMING Estimated Damage Radius: Complete Harbor
Threat Level: EXTREME
"T-Then come with me!" Valtherion sobbed. "We can run together!"
Lira shook her head.
"They'll sense us. They'll hunt us. They'll kill us all."
Ardan pulled aside a cabinet, revealing a hidden hatch.
A narrow escape tunnel.
His final gift.
"Run, Val," he said gently. "Don't stop. Don't look back."
Lira kissed his forehead.
"We love you. More than our lives."
A thunderous crack split the air.
The walls glowed white-hot.
Ardan shoved Valtherion inside.
The hatch slammed shut.
The last thing he saw was Lira's silhouette, burning in gold.
Then—darkness.
Valtherion ran.
The tunnel shook with explosions. Dust choked the air. The earth groaned above him.
He didn't stop.
He couldn't.
Mom… Dad…
He ran because stopping meant death.
Because they told him to.
A blinding flash lit the tunnel behind him.
Then silence.
He burst into the night, collapsing onto cold earth.
Before him stood a massive forest, ancient and endless, mist curling between towering trees.
The Forest of Phorashia.
Behind him—only smoke.
Black, rising, endless.
Smoke where his home once stood.
Smoke where his parents fell.
"M-Mom… Dad…"
He collapsed, sobbing.
Then her voice echoed in his mind.
Don't look back.
He wiped his face and stood.
Without turning, he walked into the forest.
Phorashia swallowed him whole.