Argrave eyed a wriggling bag made of poor cloth handled by one of the men of the tribes of Vysenn. Some animal lovers would undoubtedly take umbrage with the treatment of the amphibians, suggesting that they would be traumatized being transported in such a manner.

“Your Majesty… what are your plans for these creatures?” the Firevein, standing off nearby, questioned as he looked into the distant land of greenery where the spring taiga reigned. “Do you intend to raise them?”

Argrave looked to him. “It would be hard to prepare an environment for them. They live in heat and need volcanic gases to get proper nutrients, something that I lack on both fronts. I might sustain them for a time, but I cannot keep them.”

“What of the crystals?” Anneliese suggested. When Argrave furrowed his brows, she elaborated, “From my homeland. They were embedded in the roads to ward away snow and keep the path clear.”

“Oh!” Argrave said, pointing to her. “A brighter idea than I could ever hope to think of. But… the other point remains true.”

“You say that you do not desire our lands… yet these creatures are the only reason we can persist amidst the harsh rocks and dense miasma,” the Firevein asked without asking.

Galamon stepped up and took the bag from the other’s hands, holding it out before his body as though he didn’t care to have the salamanders touch his body.

“I have other uses for them than preparing a force for colonization. I’m not exactly sure why you’re so protective over land near a volcano,” Argrave said ponderingly. “If you’re smart, you’ll heed this. You probably won’t, but here’s the advice anyway: migrate. That volcano will erupt once again. Your homes will melt and fuse with the earth, and your flesh and bones will be unrecognizable in the liquid rock. Doesn’t matter who you sacrifice to appease the volcano or what measures you take to prepare—unless you migrate, you’ll die.”

“Those of the green lands have been saying such a thing for hundreds of years,” the Firevein shook his head, then respectfully appended, “Em… Your Majesty.”

The Snowrock, however, was somewhat more serious. “Where would we even migrate? The lands beyond all belong to Your Majesty, and we are strangers in appearance. How would we survive?”

“Hmm…” Argrave thought for a few seconds, then continued, “Your people are well-suited for the earth. Most of your homes are built from it. Miners are always welcome. As a matter of fact… I can think of a few areas they’d be in rather high demand in the coming years, to the point where I’d accept migrants myself.”

“As slaves?” the Snowrock guessed.

“That custom is long gone,” Argrave shook his head. “And even if it wasn’t… it’s better than death, I think. Life outside Vysenn is of much higher quality than that within it.”

“Yes… it is better than death, Your Majesty,” the Snowrock nodded slowly.

“Given your leave, Your Majesty…” the reticent Tender of the Grasses spoke. “We would return, our matter… settled?”

“It’s settled,” Argrave nodded. “Don’t soon forget the lesson taught here.”

Taking that as their cue to leave, the three chiefs and their small entourage that had delivered the salamanders made to leave. As they left, the Snowrock paused.

“Your Majesty… those salamanders… though they can be eaten…”

“Speak not another word!” the Firevein shouted at his compatriot.

“I’d agree,” Argrave nodded, holding his hand out to stop the other. “I already know the ritual, so save your words.”

The Snowrock blinked, and the Firevein grabbed the man’s arm to shepherd him along. The tribal chieftain resisted the older man, then asked, “Is there aught you don’t know?”

Argrave smiled. “Only how this world came to be.”

With this, their parting was final. Argrave turned away, trusting Galamon to watch his back. Anneliese joined him, commenting, “What strange naming customs. Did they have true names before they became ‘the Firerock,’ or whatever such title?”

“Yeah,” Argrave responded distantly, already thinking of what was ahead as he laid eyes upon Elenore and Durran.

Anneliese grabbed his hand to draw his attention—a rather effective strategy, Argrave noted. “The blue-eyed one… I think we have not seen the last of him.”

Argrave took a deep breath. “Meaning?”

“I could be wrong,” she shook her head, then fixed some of her long white hair behind her ear. “I just noticed… turmoil.”

Argrave nodded. “He and I are in the same boat, it would seem. I appreciate your vigilance. We’ll have to relay that information to my sister, too. But maybe… after things are truly settled.”

#####

“You have two options,” Argrave explained, hands on his knees as Durran and Elenore sat before him, cross-legged just as he was.

The stars and the red moon were especially bright tonight, almost to the point the campfire was necessary only for warmth. They decided to camp here—it was far from Vysenn, yet nevertheless Argrave’s royal guard kept watch. After Anneliese’s display of prowess with her A-rank ascendency, he was markedly less worried about the barbarians offering any genuine threat. Their strength was their tephramancy, yet that power of theirs had proven to be a larger boon to Anneliese.

“One,” Argrave looked back at Galamon, who still held the bag. “You start a new diet. A lizard a day invites your bones to stay,” he tried his best to rhyme, though he wasn’t confident the mnemonic would stick. “A live lizard, as a matter of fact. Apparently there’ll be an itching sensation in the affected parts as your body starts to change.”

“Are salamanders lizards?” Anneliese questioned. She actually held one already—it was a rather unassuming black creature with moist skin. Whatever it breathed out was visible as some sort of black mist. It squirmed uncomfortably in her hand, yet she held it firm. “I recall you mentioning they were kept in heated pools in Vysenn.”

Argrave blanked, the answer not coming to him readily. Then, he answered unconfidently, “…no.”

Elenore sighed. “I am instilled with confidence by your considerable knowledge base. As for that option, my jaw is rather weak and my stomach not so strong. What is the other option?”

Argrave looked in her eyeless sockets. “The ritual. You will be covered in fresh salamander blood and set aflame. Their blood is highly flammable, but it won’t burn you. It’ll seep into your skin and set to work immediately.”

“Ha!” Durran reeled back and laughed. “I think that’s enough for me. Unpleasant though it might be, I’ll take a few scales trapped between my teeth and an uncomfortable meal any day over being set alight.” He pointed at Argrave. “I got set on fire in the wetlands, and I still have nightmares about that. No thanks.”

“They have no scales,” Anneliese noted, observing the creature. “That was why I questioned if they were lizards.”

Durran spared a glance. “Even better. No self-immolation for me, thanks.”

“I’ll do the ritual,” Elenore nodded.

Argrave wasn’t surprised. Elenore had chosen the same option in Heroes of Berendar. The person who was surprised, though…

“What in the world did you say?” Durran leaned in. “You, uh… you’d prefer being set on fire than eating salamanders? I thought you were smart.”

“He said it was painless,” Elenore pointed out.

“Coming from the guy who let somebody pull his heart out of his body, does that mean much? He was puking blood and turning inside out a couple months ago,” Durran waved at Argrave. “I wouldn’t use him as a good scale for pain.”

Elenore crossed her arms. “Who said today that Argrave was usually right, and following along with what he did wasn’t a bad idea?”

“Well, that’s…” Durran trailed off, scratching the top of his head where his dark hair was thick. “I was talking about what I do, not what you should do.”

“I’m doing it,” Elenore shook her head, then rose to her feet. “Let us prepare immediately.”

Durran stood too. “Elenore. What’s the matter with a little deferred gratification? We have what we needed. No need to throw caution to the wind. I’d think you, being a business tycoon, could grasp that concept.”

“You should care a little less about what I do, and focus instead on what you do,” Elenore said simply, then stepped away.

Durran’s mouth closed and his expression turned stoic. He looked as though he was choosing his words. Then, his bear roared loudly in rage, distracting all present. He stepped away to tend to his druidic bond, seeing what precisely it needed.

“Can we do this now?” Elenore asked, crossing her arms. She fidgeted, betraying her nervousness.

“I thought you’d be most comfortable with Anneliese doing it, given the nature of the, uh…” he gestured towards her body. “…the ritual. I’ll be nearby if I’m needed, but I think she should do it.”

“I see,” she said neutrally. “I hadn’t considered that. Thank you.”

“You’re sure this is the choice you want?” Argrave questioned.

“I am certain,” Elenore nodded. “I want this over and done with.”

Argrave rubbed his palms together. He didn’t have as many qualms as Durran did, nor did he lack confidence in the plan. Eventually, he said jokingly, “It seems my sister is a picky eater. Well, you’re rich enough to be, so I suppose it’s fine.”

Anneliese stepped forward, salamander still in hand. She offered her arm to Elenore. “Shall we?”

Elenore stayed silent for a moment, shuddered, and then walked with Anneliese, heading for a distant and private place.

#####

Darkness consumed Elenore’s world. It had been some weeks since she last felt the total vulnerability that came with blindness. The bronze jewelry that Argrave had gifted her became a constant presence in her life to the point where being without them was a deeply uncomfortable thing. Even in changing clothes or washing, she never removed them all.

Now, though… she had to, and the night air felt cold upon her skin as she removed the last of her clothes. The only fabric left was a small sash binding her hair above her head, wrapped tightly. Even her prosthetics had been set aside, and Elenore sat on a rock she could not see.

“This truly is a tribal ritual,” Elenore noted with a shivering voice, ill at ease from the howling of the wind beyond the hills that shielded them from sight.

“Yet there is wisdom and magic in it. I will be with you every step of the way,” Anneliese said calmly.

The snow elf was extremely accommodating to Elenore, doing nothing to heighten her discomfort. She was kind, Elenore knew… but she wasn’t sure her unease could entirely be abated.

“There are some things to remember. You will need to hold your breath for a long time, initially. Do not panic and inhale. Beyond that, I will take care of everything. Your body will undergo the changes overnight. Argrave claims this is extremely uncomfortable, though not painful. You will not sleep, he suspects,” Anneliese finished evenly. “Are you prepared?”

“Yes. Perhaps the fire will expel this damnable chill,” she said dryly.

“I’ve put the first salamander above. In three, two, one…” she said, narrating her actions so as to be kind to Elenore.

Elenore expected warm liquid, but it wasn’t. Anneliese avoided her head, dripping the blood down her torso and legs. It was cold and got colder yet as the wind blew against her skin. The noises were disturbing and ghastly, and they carried on for some time methodically. Elenore thought to question Anneliese’s efficiency, but she was too cold to speak normally.

“There. I have done as best I could. I will set you aflame. To repeat—do not panic, do not inhale. Take a deep breath when I reach two in my countdown. I will ignite you on one.” The elven woman took a deep breath. “Three, two…”

Elenore inhaled deeply.

“One,” Anneliese finished.

Elenore felt as though she had opened the door to a blacksmith and stepped within as a wave of heat seized her. The natural, human response to sudden heat was fear, but Elenore was well prepared to suppress that. One second, two seconds, three seconds… she held her breath diligently, adhering to the instructions given.

The heat reached a crescendo, and Elenore thought pain was soon to come. But just as the apex came, so did the decrescendo come.

“Astounding…” Anneliese said.

Elenore held her breath, waiting for the next command.

“It… is already over. I will help you get your things,” Anneliese said, the awe still on her tone.

Elenore stood there blankly, basking in the heat as the last bit of it faded away. Perhaps she was delusional… but her blood felt hot. When she felt Anneliese’s touch, only then did she exhale.

“It’s done?” Elenore asked. “Did it work?”

“So far as I know,” Anneliese said. “Here. Come. Let us return you back to the others. I know well the security of loved ones when your body undergoes significant change. So does Argrave. Or Galamon. So, come. Let us get you moving…”

Elenore obeyed blankly. Before long, everything was back as it had been before, down to the prosthetics on her feet or the jewelry on her body granting her vision. Only… as they walked, Elenore realized she was not delusional. Her blood was hot. It was not as though the fire had burnt out, but rather… it had gone inward.

Her jewelry offered her a range of vision into places typically unknowable. And when Elenore gazed upon her blood with its magic… she saw it bubble and boil already.