“You dare too?” Salvo growled his outrage and raised his wand as Devol arced his blade. “I am done playing.” He cast out a large torrent of fire as the boy unleashed the same from his blade, similar to the attack he had used against Koli months before. These flames, however, did not tear through the land like those had. Instead, they were halted and clashed against his adversary’s inferno, one that slowly changed color to an unnatural crimson hue.
“Devol!” Asla cried and prepared to run toward him, only for the flames around the pit to flare out in front of her and block her path. Jazai used his frost cantrip to create paths between the flames but they melted faster than he could make them.
The young swordsman’s hands shook and the flames from his blade were forced back and he along with them. The fire magi’s continued to grow as he stalked forward. “This is what forced Koli to run?” he shouted over the roar of the flames. “Pathetic!”
Jazai eased behind Devol and threw up a large wall of ice before he stretched forward and yanked the swordsman back. Salvo screamed at them and his fire blazed through the frigid wall in one swipe. The diviner jumped and moved both of them out of the way as the crimson flames seared the ground along its path.
With a yell, he threw his robes off and Devol realized they were alight. His friend fumbled on his belt, retrieved a vial of clear liquid, and poured it along his arm where burn marks were visible from his knuckles to his shoulder. “Jazai!”
“I’ll be fine!” The boy grunted and flexed his hand. “The fire burns like the hells, though. What was with that color?”
“It has to be something to do with the mask,” Devol reasoned. “Check your tome.”
Jazai opened the book as the two boys wandered around the labyrinth of flames in search of an escape “It won’t tell us anything,” the diviner stated and his lips pressed together in frustration.
“Is he blocking you somehow?” he asked.
“No, it’s not that.” His friend flipped the book and showed it to him. “I don’t think he’s capable of anything like that now.”
Devol looked at the page which contained no paragraphs and no general information, only two pages filled with the same words constantly repeated. Burn them, kill them, consume them.
Chapter Thirty
“That mask is taking its toll,” Jazai stated and shut his tome. “It grants power in many ways and forms, but each time you use it, the cost is a little more of your sanity. It doesn’t take long to collect, especially if you weren’t all there to begin with.”
“Consume?” Devol sliced through the lines of fire with his blade. “Does he want to eat us?”
“I wouldn’t put it past him at this point.” The diviner placed his hand against his burn and used frost to wrap it in ice. “I’m not sure if that is his desire or some kind of condition of using the mask. Or maybe he’s simply losing it, but I’m not interested enough to find out.”
“Asla!” Devol shouted and swept his blade through more flame. “Asla, where are—” His words died as the fire began to die down before it pulled away from the ground entirely and floated above them, where it contorted and formed into separate strands.
The wildkin stared at the flames much like they did before they all looked at Salvo, who held his wand straight up to the sky. Devol’s gaze shifted to the mask. It was still bleeding and its form had shifted again so it lived up to its name. The man looked like a demon—or, rather, like he was possessed by one. He no longer bellowed or screamed but wordlessly pointed his wand at them as the flames coiled around one another to form a serpentine figure.
The fire magi whipped the wand toward them and the fiery snake struck out at them. The swordsman ran forward and attempted to block the attack with Achroma. He succeeded once and knocked the snake to the side, but the man simply flicked the wand in the other direction and the serpent attacked, surged into his sword, and dislodged it from his hand.
Asla’s anima flared and she prepared to strike while Jazai tended to Devol, but the fire creature encircled all three of them and constricted quickly around them. “Keep your animas up!” Jazai shouted and uttered a hiss of pain as the snake inched closer to his burned arm. Devol reached for his majestic but the snake was too quick, ensnared the trio, and hoisted them into the air.
The fire’s form was almost crystalline and bound them together to take this shape and hold them. Devol could feel the heat burning him even with his anima holding it at bay. He tried to reach into his pocket but he couldn’t. From this position, he couldn’t even reach his marble. In his panic, he didn’t think to call his majestic to him.
Salvo wanted to taunt them and ask if they regretted their choice to try to be Templars and if they wondered if they had made any progress at all if they died so young because of foolish choices. But instead, he heard the incessant demand in his head—burn them, kill them, consume them. He wanted to and could sense that the desire was his own, but it also felt wrong—like he was rushing this. After all his efforts, he wanted to enjoy it more but the voice constantly demanded and ordered and he could not hold against it.
“I can’t…get my majestic!” Devol cried and as common sense kicked in, he stretched his hand out and attempted to summon it to him. It was one of the tricks he had mastered, he believed, but with the heat and pain, he could not focus.
“I can’t blink us out of here!” Jazai warned
