Pride and envy burn side by side in my chest as I watch Ember sprint toward danger to hunt down monsters and seek glory. She springs into action, ghosting down the dirt trail like a bolt of lightning. If I squint, I can almost imagine she left an afterimage in the air.

I follow as quickly as I can, but more cautiously than before, keeping an eye on my surroundings so I'm not ambushed again. My mana swirls eagerly at my call, my [Lesser Heat Manipulation] primed and ready for use. The energy circulates throughout my body with unusual ease, as though the barrier that’s always prevented me from embracing magic is gone.

Perhaps it is. There's no sense in letting my fear of death keep me from living.

Thankfully, the terrain between the forests and the glass works studio is relatively flat—all rolling grasslands and parceled-off farmland—and some roads which are paved over to facilitate commercial traffic. A few mansions dot the otherwise bland landscape, set back from the road and hidden from the common rabble by rows of flowering bushes and stately trees.

Up ahead, beyond my limited visibility on this fine, misty morning, the screams from the attacking monsters intensify. The faint answering cries of the harried town folk transform my earnest resolve into steely conviction. I may lack the required conditioning for long distance running, but I’m not a weakling. Or a coward. I lift the stick Ember gave me, resting it over my shoulder, and resume running, albeit at a slower pace as I try to ignore the stabbing pain in my shoulder from where the first jaguar bit me.

Pushing through the discomfort, I break through the thinning fog at last and catch my first glimpse of the carnage that the mana-empowered beasts are wreaking upon the sleepy hamlet of Peliharaon.

A few minutes later, I approach the gates of Peliharaon, sick with worry over what I might find. I pray that my friends at the glass studio are all unharmed, though that seems selfish. Do the other people not matter just because I don't know them? I scoff, put the ridiculous thoughts aside, and make my way to the studio. The workers should all be there by now, waiting for me.

Sure enough, the old [Gaffer] creaks opens the door a few inches, as far as it can go before the safety chain catches. His rheumy eye peers through the crack. “Crazy times, Nuri! Get inside. Monsters on the streets.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here. Stay safe, and don’t let Ifran out. Ember is slaughtering the monsters in droves. She’ll take care of everything.”

The rusty protest of the deadbolt, stiff and squeaking from age, cuts off. The [Gaffer] snorts; the sound is unnaturally loud in the sudden silence. “You’re going to help her, aren’t you? Just like your father. Let her do the heavy lifting, you hear? Come back to us in one piece.”

“I’ll do my best,” I promise. I turn to go, then spin back on my heel awkwardly. “Give me the biggest punty, the one we use for our oversized commissions. I don’t have anything sturdier than this stick, and I’m more used to glass-making tools, anyway.”

He sighs, draws the deadbolt the rest of the way, and opens the door. “Too bad you don't have your father's swords. Come on in and get what you need.”

I grunt in agreement about the swords. I dart inside, throw on the heaviest leather apron I can find. It’s not much, as far as armor goes, but it’s better than nothing. I pick up the punty I was looking for, hefting the thick, sturdy metal rod in my hands and frowning at its relatively short reach. A spear would make me feel safer. “This we'll have to do the trick.”

Screams and snarls from a few blocks over reach my ears, and I jog back toward the door. The old [Gaffer] meets my gaze as I go, giving me a mournful look, but he doesn’t try to stop me. His hunched form disappears from view as I dash away, though from the corner of my eye I catch sight of him waving farewell. I hope ours isn’t a permanent parting. My heartbeat speeds up at that terrifying thought. But I have to do what I can against the threat.

Two streets later, my heroic sprint is an undignified hobble. My left hamstring cramps up; I can’t seem to stretch it out or loosen up the muscle, but I don’t have time to stop. I lean on my makeshift weapon as I walk closer to the cries, eyeing the crusty bits of dried glass covered in caked-on mud from using the metal rod as a walking stick. I’m a delicate artist, not some brute [Warrior], but there’s no one else backing up Ember, so I’m committed to the battle.

I skid to a stop and survey the invading pack. Each Shadow Jaguar is almost the size of a small pony, but they move with the grace and rapidity of house cats. The predators leap up to low rooftops without needing to crouch or gather themselves. Their muscular bodies ripple and twitch under glossy, sable fur, propelling them past fleeing civilians. Chaos unfolds all around me, and my untrained eyes strain to follow the carnage. Three of the creatures surround a young family, roaring with gaping jaws and long, yellowed teeth.

Like a spark leaping free from the furnace, Ember flashes down from a nearby house to interpose herself between the Shadow Jaguars and a mother with a babe in her arms. Ember’s dagger gleams in her hands, wreathed in dark fire, and she skewers the first monster through the skull before it can respond to her threat. Two more slashes across the throat of each big cat, and the dangerous threat is eliminated as the jaguars bleed out; three beasts dead in the blink of an eye. How?

I lift my hand to hail her, but she’s already in motion, blurring toward the next group of interlopers.

I jog toward the family to see if they still need help, ignoring the cramp in my leg in my eagerness to be useful. The father nods at me gratefully, but doesn’t say much. He’s too busy herding the children toward steps cut into the stone street. Underneath the dark, low archway, the stairway entrance is covered by a thin membrane of magic. The portal is keyed to only allow sophant species through, not beasts like the Shadow Jaguars. Once inside, the family will be safe from the attack.

I wave at their retreating backs as they disappear through the shimmering portal. Idly, I wonder why a barrier of this quality can’t envelop the entire town, like it does for Silaraon, but I suppose the mana costs for such a potent security measure is probably exorbitant. Maybe I could erect a set of glass spikes or something once I discover how to imbue with mana. I’ll learn someday. I’m determined to push the limits of glass to greater heights than anyone before me; that truth resonates in my bones and marrow, down to my innermost soul.

Undeterred by my lack of success so far, I head deeper into the town, accessing my one Skill to lower the surrounding temperature and superheat the end of the metal rod in my hands instead. By the time I round the corner and find a pair of the Shadow Jaguars patrolling down the street, the tool itself is in danger of melting, glowing almost white-hot with the transfer of heat, while my breath is visible in the shallow pocket of frigid cold around me.

One of the Shadow Jaguars turns toward me, its amber eyes instantly locking on mine. It’s larger than the others, and faint patterns in its fur marks it as more evolved than the others. Immediately, I break the connection, staring instead at its claws, not daring to test its reported mental attacks. I need a clear mind for what’s coming next, but I also need to see it moving so I can react. Paranoia will only get me killed, and I have big plans. This is a stepping stone into my future, an affirmation that my path is uniquely my own.

The rangy jaguar lunges forward, its claws raking sideways at my face. A faint sheen of sickly green mana coats the claws, visible to my naked eye, and I instinctively know that I do not want to let the putrefying attack touch me. I lunge forward, twisting in the air to fling myself flat onto the dusty cobblestones, and stab the glowing metal tip of the rod up at the monster’s face. Sizzling flesh and tormented howls reward my blind thrust, and my heart practically vibrates in my chest with the excitement of scoring my first hit. Seizing the momentum, I roll to my feet and swing at its exposed underbelly with both hands on the thick steel punty.

Thrashing about, the monster smashes its shoulder into my gut at the same time my wild stroke connects. The blow sends me sprawling, tumbling across the street to smack into a stone wall. My vision flashes white, and I clutch at my chest, scared that I broke a rib. A gurgling wheeze escapes my throat. I can’t breathe, sucking air to no avail.

I’ve had the wind knocked out of me before, but the agony in my chest feels more like my lungs are popping. Once again, I siphon the ambient heat into the metal rod, but this time I intentionally draw it away from my cracked ribs and screaming lungs, hoping that it will numb the pain. The sudden coat of rime on my skin probably isn’t good for my health, but the chill does its job, deadening the pain, and snaps my mind back into a state of clarity.

I force myself into a martial stance, thankful that I’m still clutching my makeshift weapon, and flare the heat outward in a dramatic arc. The sudden burst of pseudo-fire makes the beasts flinch back, buying me time to regroup and try to come up with a battle plan, but the terrifying keenness of their gaze tells me that they’re too smart to fall for the trick for long.

Instead of trying to flee on my cramping leg, I double down on my feint and charge them as best I can in my injured state. With a grunt, I swing the rod, cycling through the combat forms that Ember taught. I stagger the cat backward, then snap into a defensive guard just in time to block its retaliatory swipe. Wrath rising up within me, I push through my legs and hips, turning the torque into power as I smash the rod across its face. I’m like a grumpy child beating a dirty rug free of dust even though it’s his least favorite chore—a vivid scene from my childhood that suddenly flashes through my mind for some reason.

The jaguar lashes out with its claw, jolting my crude weapon off target, and hits back, scoring a slash across my chest and knocking me into the ground. My ribs groan in protest at the violence of the impact, but the thick leather apron from the hot shop saves my skin. Literally. If the envenomed, razor-sharp claws cut me, I probably won’t live long enough to get to a healer or find an antidote. The shop’s alchemical leather treatment makes the apron far tougher than it could otherwise become through natural means.

Only one of the huge cats has attacked me so far, but when I still show signs of struggle after the latest smack-down, the second Shadow Jaguar launches itself into the fray with a snarl. The momentum of its attack knocks the wind out of me again. Its weight pins me to the ground while it slavers on my face, its hot, warm breath reeking of death and decay. My right arm, along with the metal rod, is twisted underneath me, no longer a factor in my desperate melee. Without the threat of fire, the monstrous cats have nothing further to fear.

I punch ineffectually at its sleek, predatory snout with my free hand, but it seems more bemused than threatened by me, snuffling as it lowers closer, looming over me with the gloating certainty of a superior beast. Every one of its whiskers is in stark focus in front of my eyes, quivering as its nose scrunches up while it sniffs my supine form. My entire body shakes uncontrollably with a spike of fear-fueled anger.

Deep within me, a spark of defiance comes to life. I slap my left palm to its face and draw more deeply on [Lesser Heat Manipulation] than ever before. Flaring the Skill even further proves difficult with my clumsy, underdeveloped control. The Skill strains, resisting my efforts to draw more power into it. I feel as though I’m trying to drink up an entire river through a straw. I heave anyway, pulling as hard as I can until something inside snaps. Mana spools out of me at an alarming rate, and frost radiates across the black fur of the Shadow Jaguar, flash-freezing its eyes in its skull. The monster rears back with an ear-piercing shriek of agony, freeing me from its weight.

No longer trapped, I push myself up to my knees, my blood burning with righteous fury. Every action demands a reaction, however. I have to send the gathered heat somewhere. I jab my hand forward, my fingers rigid like a blade, into the massive cat’s soft stomach, and unleash the excess heat. With a heady rush of power, the overcharged Skill pours forth in blistering heat, charring the beast from the inside out. Thick, oily, rancid smoke assaults my senses, stinging my eyes and choking me as it roils inside my throat. Singed fur and burning flesh smell terrible.

The incredible energy draw via my solitary Skill drains my mana pool down to the very last dregs, sending waves of nausea through me. A splitting headache blurs my vision for the second time in the last few minutes. I heave up my breakfast onto the street, tears streaking down my cheeks, and fight valiantly to stay conscious.

The other monster roars, but doesn’t attack right away, circling me on its massive paws, seemingly wary after its packmate—or actual mate? I don’t know much about their pack’s social structure—both freezes and burns right in front of it.

I fling myself sideways to avoid the death throes of the monster still half on top of me, dragging my increasingly-unresponsive body out of the danger zone. “At least I took another one with me,” I mutter in grim satisfaction. If my actions today save people’s lives, then it’s a good enough trade in my book.

A blur hurtles through the air, smashing into the remaining monster and sending out a shockwave on impact. Dark, flickering flames erupt into a starburst all around me. Ember stands over the mangled corpse of the jaguar, her knife in hand. Viscera drips off it like the bloody fang of a true apex predator.

She crosses her arms, shaking her head slowly as she looks down at my bruised body. “Twice in one day, Nuri. That’s a new record for saving your life.”

I sit up, wheezing as the pain in my side redoubles. “My hero. Thanks.”

She chuckles. “You have a death wish? Charging those cats was foolish. Impressive kill, I admit, but what would you have done without backup? You should have stayed at the studio after you checked in on the workers. Good job making sure they were safe, by the way.”

I nod mutely, too dizzy to respond just yet. The edges of my vision are tinged red-black, as though the entire world is bleeding. I push myself back up to standing, swaying on my feet, and collapse sideways as the darkness rushes in.

“Hey! None of that now, Nuri. Were you always this foolhardy, or did you inhale too many fumes working the furnace?”

Ember’s amused voice rattles around in my skull, dragging me back to the land of the living a second later. My eyelids flutter open, but the sharp stab of pain when the sunlight hits my eyes makes me groan and instantly regret my life choices. My head is pounding with the worst headache of all time, and my brain feels like it’s too swollen to fit inside my head. I rub at my now squeezed-shut eyes with the palms of my hands, and let out a strained bark that barely passes as laughter when I realize she’s carrying me suspended in her arms.

“Was I always this foolhardy?” I echo, rubbing my chin. “Why, yes. I believe I come by it honestly, Em.”

She snorts through her nose with enough force that I feel the wind of it on my forearms, her entire body shaking with mirth. “Don’t you dare call me that in front of the others, Nuri. If that nickname catches on, I’ll personally drag you into the woods and let the cats finish the job. And that would ruin the hard work I did to save you. Twice! Don’t make me regret my efforts.”

“Thanks for jumping in when you did,” I croak out, chuckling at her joke. I take a chance at opening my eyes again, a little at a time, blinking in the bright, harsh light as I take in our surroundings. We are backtracking toward the Peliharaon Glass Works, and sudden horror grips me at the thought of the others seeing me carried about like a baby.

“Set me on my feet! I’ll never live it down if the others see me coddled like this.”

“Fine, fine. Can’t let you die on my watch, though,” she says, gently squeezing my shoulder as she puts me down and instead offers her arm for balance. “Bad for morale.”

I stick out my tongue. “Har har. I’m sure you wouldn’t mourn me at all, huh?”

“Of course I would, you ninny. Now, let’s get you inside and clean you up. I’ll leave you in the old [Gaffer]’s capable hands.” Ember’s face turns stormy as she glances around, surveying the carnage. Her fingers curl into tight fists. “When we get back to Silaraon, don’t go out unless you’re in a group. Fetch yourself a sturdy staff if you’re outside, and tell your brother to carry his biggest hammer from the forge. In the meantime? I’m going hunting.”