Chapter Nine: Weight
The rings felt heavier than they looked.
Orion sat beside the remains of a dying campfire, turning one between his fingers.
This one was different from the others.
Most of the rings Jace and the surviving members of the old Eternal Flame had given him were simple.
Gold.
Silver.
Blackened steel.
Plain bands bearing variations of the Eternal Flame insignia.
Those had belonged to ordinary members.
Crew.
Soldiers.
People who carried the name without holding a specific place within it.
But a handful were different.
More detailed.
More deliberate.
Made to mean something.
Jace had explained that the Eternal Flame never relied much on uniforms or formal titles.
They used rings.
The common members wore simple bands.
The people at the heart of the crew wore rings unique to their positions.
Jace had owned two.
The first had marked him as second-in-command.
The second came later, when he took over as leader.
Before Orion left Constellion, Jace had placed both into his hand.
One to wear.
One to keep until Orion found someone worthy of standing beside him.
Orion looked down at the ring on his own hand.
The leader's ring.
Gold worked around darker metal, the Eternal Flame insignia set into its face.
Old scratches marked the surface.
It had existed longer than Orion had.
Probably survived more fights than he had too.
In his other hand rested the second ring.
Jace's first.
The second-in-command ring.
Its design was less ornate than the leader's, but unmistakably related to it.
Jace's words returned to him.
Don't give that to somebody because you need help.
Give it to the person you'd trust to keep everyone standing when you can't.
Orion snorted.
"Good thing I don't know anybody."
He dropped the ring back into the pouch at his belt.
Beside him rested a folded piece of paper.
A list of towns where the Eternal Flame had once operated, built connections, or caused enough trouble to still be remembered.
At the top—
Beltor.
Jace had told him it was as good a place as any to begin.
Find people.
Find people who believed in something.
Then—
Make them believe in you.
Orion still wasn't entirely sure what that was supposed to mean.
He kicked dirt over the final embers.
Tomorrow, he would find out how much the Eternal Flame name still mattered.
Unfortunately—
in Beltor, it mattered for all the wrong reasons.
Beltor
Orion knew something was different before he even entered the town.
The road narrowed between reinforced gates.
Armed officers stood on platforms above while guards inspected wagons below.
An enormous bounty board covered one side of the entrance.
Dozens of faces stared back.
Some rewards were small.
Others reached into the thousands.
Orion slowed.
After Malden, the sight of uniforms didn't exactly inspire confidence.
But starting trouble at the front gate would be a stupid way to begin rebuilding an outlaw gang.
So he kept his hands visible and approached.
One officer lifted a hand.
"Business?"
"Passing through."
"Name?"
"Orion."
The officer waited.
Orion stared back.
"Just Orion."
The officer looked him over, then waved him through.
Orion took several steps.
Then glanced toward the armed men stationed around the gate.
"What's with all the security?"
The officer raised an eyebrow.
"You must be new."
"That obvious?"
"Pretty much."
He gestured toward the bounty board.
"Crime's been climbing for years."
Then he pointed farther into town.
"Eventually Beltor became what people call a bounty town."
Orion stopped.
"A bounty town?"
"Hunters."
The officer leaned against the gatepost.
"We've got a sanctioned bounty station here. Volunteers who qualify can sign on, receive a Soul Brand, and start taking warrants."
Orion had heard of bounty hunters.
He knew they worked outside the normal Five Points hierarchy.
Still sanctioned.
Just not officers.
"You people just hand volunteers supernatural abilities?"
The officer laughed.
"We don't."
He tapped the badge on his uniform.
"Apprehension Core system."
"How's that work?"
"Ask someone paid enough to understand it."
The officer shrugged.
"Station has an authorized contractor."
"Contractor?"
"That's what people call them."
He pointed toward the center of Beltor.
"Authority comes from higher up. Contractor applies the hunter contract. Soul Brand forms after that."
"And it gives them powers."
"Something like that."
"Something like that?"
"Every hunter manifests differently."
The officer gestured toward several armed men entering town.
"The contract gives them access to power. What that power becomes depends on the person."
Orion studied the hunters.
"So they're basically lawmen."
The officer laughed.
"No."
That answer came quickly.
"They're bounty hunters."
"Difference?"
The officer gave him a tired smile.
"Spend a week in Beltor."
He waved Orion onward.
"You'll figure it out."
Orion started walking.
"Head to the tavern in the center if you're interested!" the officer called.
"Most hunters gather there!"
Orion raised one hand.
"I'll keep that in mind."
He absolutely would not.
The Chain Gang
Beltor seemed obsessed with bounties.
Wanted posters covered walls, storefronts, posts, and public boards.
Hunters moved openly through the streets.
Some worked alone.
Others wore matching coats, colors, scarves, jewelry, or symbols marking whatever gang they belonged to.
Orion kept his head down.
He hadn't gotten far before someone stepped directly into his path.
"You look strong."
Orion stopped.
The man looked homeless.
Ragged coat.
Unkempt beard.
Worn boots.
The faint smell of cheap liquor.
Orion stepped around him.
The man followed.
"You interested in joining the Chain Gang?"
Orion stopped again.
"The what?"
"The Chain Gang."
The old man smiled proudly.
"Best bounty-hunting gang in Beltor."
Orion looked him up and down.
"With a name like Chain Gang, I doubt it."
The man's smile disappeared.
"A little on the nose, isn't it?"
Orion resumed walking.
Then paused.
Then again...
He frowned.
What kind of name is Eternal Flame?
Behind him, the old man shouted.
"You'll regret mocking the Chain Gang!"
Orion continued.
"See if the other hunters want some rookie like you!"
Orion reached the tavern.
"You'll come crawling back!"
Orion opened the door.
The man continued shouting for several seconds before realizing nobody was listening.
He sighed.
"Kids."
The Tavern
The tavern was packed.
Hunters crowded tables covered in bounty posters.
Several people compared warrants.
Others were signing contracts.
Plenty were simply drunk.
A large crowd had gathered near the back.
People shouted.
Coins changed hands.
Orion pushed closer.
Two men sat across from each other at a table.
Their hands were locked together.
Arm wrestling.
One was a scruffy older hunter.
The other looked barely older than Orion.
Their arms strained.
Then—
THUD.
The older man's hand hit the table.
The crowd erupted.
The younger man leaned back.
"Four."
The older hunter glared.
"Best two out of three."
The younger man stared at him.
"Man, all that liquor must be going to your head."
Laughter.
"I've already beaten you four times."
"I was going easy."
"Four times?"
The hunter pointed toward him.
"You wouldn't last a second if I was actually trying."
The young man smiled.
"Alright."
He put his elbow back on the table.
"Let's make it worth my time."
The hunter narrowed his eyes.
"Your last bounty."
The crowd reacted.
The young man pointed toward the hunter's coin pouch.
"You lose, I get the payout."
The older man laughed.
"And what're you putting up?"
He gestured toward several people behind the younger competitor.
"Lord knows you and that dumbass Chain Gang aren't worth the dirt you walk on."
The younger man's smile faded.
"I mean, what good is a bounty hunter who doesn't hunt bounties?"
A few people laughed.
The young man leaned forward.
"Maybe."
He glanced toward the man's defeated hand.
"But I'm not the one who's lost four times."
The laughter grew.
"So what does that make you?"
The hunter's face reddened.
"If you're so confident..."
He gestured toward the bar.
"...you lose, you pay my crew's tab."
The young man looked toward several tables covered in empty bottles.
"How much have you people been drinking?"
"Scared?"
He sighed.
"Fine."
Their hands locked.
"I'll take that bet."
The older hunter gestured.
One of his crew dropped a pouch of gold onto the table.
"Go!"
Their arms strained.
For several seconds neither moved.
Then the older hunter began losing.
Slowly.
His arm dropped.
The young man grinned.
"Going easy again?"
The hunter glanced toward one of his friends.
A tiny nod.
Orion saw it.
A bottle rose behind the young man's head.
"Hey—"
CRACK!
Glass exploded.
The younger man collapsed.
The older hunter immediately slammed his hand against the table.
"I WIN!"
Silence.
Then someone shouted—
"You cheating bastard!"
A chair flew.
The tavern exploded.
The Brawl
Orion backed away.
"Nope."
A punch landed.
Someone hit the floor.
A bottle shattered.
Orion kept moving toward the door.
"Absolutely not my problem."
A man flew across the bar.
"Still not my problem."
A fist slammed into Orion's cheek.
He crashed into a nearby table.
For a moment, he simply sat there.
Then touched his lip.
Blood.
The man responsible grinned.
Orion looked at his fingers.
Then at him.
"Big mistake."
The next punch came.
Orion caught the man's wrist.
Jace's training took over.
Twist.
Step.
Turn.
Orion slammed him face-first into the table.
THUD.
The man collapsed.
Three others turned toward him.
"Who the hell is this guy?"
Orion raised both hands.
"Look, I'm really not involved in—"
They charged.
"Fine."
Orion ducked beneath the first punch.
His hand found a barstool.
He swept it through the attacker's legs.
The man crashed down.
Another grabbed Orion from behind.
Orion drove his heel backward.
The grip loosened.
He turned and threw the man over the bar.
Bottles crashed everywhere.
The third attacker stopped.
Orion looked at him.
Blood trickled from his lip.
"Still wanna dance?"
The man considered it.
Then ran.
Orion nodded.
"Smart."
Across the tavern, the young arm wrestler had regained consciousness.
He was currently beating one of the cheating hunter's friends with the man's own hat.
Then—
BANG!
Everyone froze.
A burly woman stood behind the bar holding a shotgun.
Smoke curled from the barrel.
Scars covered her knuckles.
"EVERYONE STILL STANDING—"
She pumped the shotgun.
"GET THE HELL OUT!"
Nobody argued.
People limped toward the exits.
Others carried unconscious friends.
She pointed toward Orion.
"Not you."
Orion stopped.
"What'd I do?"
"You fought back."
She lowered the weapon.
"But you didn't start it."
She pointed toward a stool.
"Sit."
Orion sat.
Damien
Several minutes later, Orion held an ice pack against his cheek.
The young arm wrestler dropped onto the stool beside him.
A knot had formed on the back of his head.
"You didn't have to jump in."
Orion looked at him.
"I didn't."
The young man blinked.
"Guy punched me."
Orion shrugged.
"So I put him through a table."
The young man laughed.
"Fair enough."
He extended a hand.
"Damien."
Orion shook it.
"Orion."
Damien froze.
Not much.
Just enough.
Orion noticed.
"What?"
"Orion?"
"Yeah."
Damien leaned closer.
"As in..."
His voice dropped.
"...Orion of the Eternal Flame?"
Orion's stomach sank.
"That a problem?"
Damn.
Jace had warned him the old crew intended to spread a few rumors.
Give Orion a reputation before he had one.
Get the name moving again.
Apparently they'd taken that job seriously.
Damien glanced around.
"Not for me."
Then back.
"But around here?"
He whistled.
"People don't think too highly of Eternal Flame."
"What've you heard?"
"Apparently you burned half a border town to ash."
Orion stared.
"What?"
"Killed a bunch of people."
"What?"
"Some say fifty."
"Fifty?!"
"One guy said a hundred."
"I've been doing this for a week!"
Damien shrugged.
"Rumors."
Orion rubbed his forehead.
"I'm going to kill Jace."
Damien grinned.
"See, saying things like that probably doesn't help."
"I'm sure it's just an exaggeration."
"Oh, definitely."
Damien paused.
"Probably."
Orion glared.
Damien reached inside his coat.
He pulled out a crumpled wanted poster and slid it across the bar.
Orion recognized the face.
The cheating hunter.
"He's wanted?"
"For weeks."
"Then why's he walking around?"
Damien's expression soured.
"Because his gang pays the right people."
"Officers?"
"Some."
"Hunters?"
"Definitely."
Damien tapped the poster.
"Extortion. Assault. Bounty theft. Rigged gambling."
"And nobody arrests him."
"Nobody wants the trouble."
Damien leaned closer.
"But you just beat his ass in front of half the town."
Orion slowly understood.
"Public witnesses."
"Exactly."
Damien smiled.
"Drag him into the station while everyone is watching and suddenly the officers can't pretend they didn't see him."
Orion looked down at the bounty.
It wasn't huge.
But Orion hadn't come to Beltor for money.
He had come here because Jace told him to build something.
Maybe this was how it started.
Not speeches.
Not legends.
Actions.
Orion folded the poster.
"Not a bad idea."
"I have those occasionally."
The tavern slowly quieted.
Damien sat beside Orion, lazily flipping a coin.
"You know..."
He caught it.
"...you fight like someone with a chip on his shoulder."
Orion looked toward the collection of empty glasses surrounding Damien.
"You drink like someone hiding from theirs."
Damien stopped flipping the coin.
"Fair."
He ordered another shot.
For a while, neither spoke.
Then Damien tugged his collar aside.
"My adoptive dad had me branded when I was a kid."
Orion looked toward the faded symbol on his skin.
A Soul Brand.
"You've been a bounty hunter since you were a kid?"
"Technically."
"You wanted that?"
Damien laughed.
"I was a child."
He took the shot.
"I wanted candy."
Orion looked at the mark.
"Why'd he do it?"
"He thought he was helping."
Damien rolled the glass between his fingers.
"Being branded meant I'd always have work."
He shrugged.
"Money. Protection. A gang. A power nobody could take away."
"But?"
"But nobody asked me."
Orion understood that more than he wanted to.
"So you don't hunt."
"Never have."
"Then why keep the brand?"
Damien looked toward him.
"You don't remove a Soul Brand."
Orion frowned.
"The contract's permanent."
Damien tapped the mark.
"Station operator who branded me didn't create the system. They're just authorized to administer it."
"By Five Points."
"Apprehension Core."
Damien nodded.
"Some Star user way up the chain created the whole thing."
Orion looked interested.
Damien shrugged.
"Don't ask me who. All I know is the station people get a little piece of that authority."
"A piece?"
"Enough to create hunters."
Damien raised his glass.
"Nothing else."
Orion looked at the Brand again.
"And the ability?"
"That part's mine."
"What does it do?"
"No idea."
Orion stared.
"You've been carrying supernatural power since you were a kid."
"Yep."
"And you've never used it."
"Nope."
"Not once?"
"No."
"Why?"
Damien looked down at the mark.
"Because it was the one part of this life I could refuse."
That silenced Orion.
Damien continued.
"The contract gives you something."
He tapped his chest.
"But what it becomes depends on you."
"Your soul."
"Basically."
Orion leaned against the bar.
"And if you quit?"
Damien gave a humorless smile.
"Depends how nervous Five Points is about letting someone with supernatural power walk away."
"Meaning?"
"If they decide you're dangerous enough..."
Damien looked toward the wanted board.
"...you become the thing you used to hunt."
"An outlaw."
"Exactly."
Orion frowned.
"So you're trapped."
Damien raised his glass.
"Welcome to bounty hunting."
He pushed another shot toward Orion.
"Take one."
"I don't drink."
"Best liquor in Beltor."
"You've had six."
"That's how I know."
Neither noticed the unconscious hunter near the wall open his eyes.
He'd heard enough.
"Orion..."
His eyes narrowed.
"...Eternal Flame."
He crawled toward the rear exit.
Then disappeared.
Beltor – Night
Orion and Damien stepped outside.
Damien stretched.
Then immediately winced.
"My head hurts."
"You got hit with a bottle."
"That might explain it."
They reached the middle of the street.
Then stopped.
Hunters blocked both ends.
Dozens.
Orion slowly looked around.
"Friends of yours?"
Damien's expression hardened.
"No."
A familiar man stepped through the crowd.
Ragged coat.
Unkempt beard.
Orion blinked.
"You."
The man's drunken demeanor was gone.
"So."
His eyes settled on Orion.
"Orion of the Eternal Flame."
Damien stared.
"Dad?"
Orion looked between them.
"That's your dad?"
"Adoptive."
The old man removed his ragged coat.
Hunter's clothing underneath.
His own faded Soul Brand visible near the collar.
The Chain Gang surrounded him.
Orion glanced around.
"You people really committed to the name."
Nobody laughed.
The older man looked toward Orion.
"You've already got a sizable bounty for someone this new."
Orion closed his eyes.
"Jace..."
Damien stepped forward.
"What the hell are you doing?"
The old man looked at him.
"My job."
"You want his bounty?"
"I want you to earn it."
Damien froze.
"What?"
The old man's expression softened.
"Do your part, Damien."
One of the hunters shouted.
"Come on, kid!"
Another laughed.
"About time you earned that Brand!"
Damien stared at his father.
"You serious?"
No answer.
"You're just going to sell me out?"
The old man's jaw tightened.
"You don't have to like this life."
"Then stop forcing me to live it!"
Silence.
A hunter stepped forward.
"Use the damn Brand."
Damien shook his head.
"No."
"Do it!"
"No."
The hunter lunged.
Damien raised his hand.
His Soul Brand ignited.
Light spread through the faded mark.
Damien's eyes widened.
But the sensation didn't begin with him.
It began behind him.
With Orion.
For one impossible instant, Damien felt him.
Not merely his presence.
His weight.
The certainty with which Orion stood in the street despite being surrounded.
The anger beneath him.
The grief.
The refusal to bend.
Damien had spent his entire life rejecting people who wanted to decide what he should become.
His father.
The Chain Gang.
The contract branded into his skin.
Yet standing beside Orion didn't feel like submitting.
It felt different.
Like choosing where to stand.
The Brand answered.
The attacker threw a punch.
Damien caught it.
And suddenly—
he understood force.
Weight.
Momentum.
Direction.
The man's entire attack existed beneath Damien's fingers.
He could feel where it came from.
Where it wanted to go.
And where Damien wanted it instead.
Some instinct deep inside him whispered a truth he didn't understand.
If Orion was going to stand—
Damien would be the force that kept him standing.
He twisted his wrist.
The attacker's momentum reversed.
The man flew backward.
Straight through a wooden cart.
CRASH!
Silence.
Damien stared at his hand.
"What the hell...?"
His Brand burned brighter.
Not painfully.
Almost approvingly.
His father stared.
For the briefest moment—
a proud smile appeared.
Then the other hunters charged.
Orion prepared himself.
Something inside his chest moved.
He froze.
Heat spread through him.
Not ordinary heat.
The shard.
Orion grabbed his shirt.
"Orion?"
The world disappeared.
For one impossible moment, Orion stood beneath a black sky.
Fire stretched across the horizon.
Something enormous moved within it.
Wings.
Burning feathers.
A silhouette concealed behind an inferno.
Two eyes opened within the flames.
Watching him.
Orion couldn't move.
Then came a voice.
Ancient.
Distant.
Buried beneath the roar.
Rise.
Orion's eyes widened.
The vision disappeared.
He stumbled backward.
"What the hell...?"
The shard pulsed.
Images struck him.
His mother.
His father.
The farmhouse collapsing.
Cyrus bleeding in his arms.
Malden smiling.
Rage swallowed everything.
The presence responded.
Rise, heir of flame.
Orion gasped.
"Who are you?"
No answer.
Hunters closed in.
Fear mixed with anger.
The thing inside Orion reacted to both.
Let them burn.
Pain tore through his veins.
Orion screamed.
Heat exploded outward.
Hunters stumbled back.
Embers lifted from the street despite nothing nearby burning.
Crimson light spread beneath Orion's skin.
His eyes opened.
Red.
Fire erupted from his shoulders.
The flames spread outward.
Then upward.
Wings.
Not perfectly.
Not completely.
But unmistakable.
Enormous burning wings formed behind Orion.
Individual flames separated into feather-like shapes and circled him before dissolving into embers.
One hunter went pale.
"What the hell is that?"
Another backed away.
"Chaos Shard."
Orion stared at his hands.
Fire moved between his fingers.
Not burning him.
Almost responding.
Then an older hunter whispered—
"No..."
He stared at the burning wings.
"I've heard about this."
The flames shifted behind Orion.
"A phoenix..."
The hunter swallowed.
"No."
His face drained of color.
"The Demon Phoenix."
The shard pulsed.
Once.
Orion felt it.
Recognition.
Or something close enough that he couldn't tell the difference.
"Demon Phoenix...?"
The name meant nothing to him.
Yet something inside him seemed to recognize it.
The truth was buried far deeper than Orion understood.
What lived inside him was not what anyone believed.
Not even Cyrus had understood the whole truth.
For now—
the lie was enough.
Demon Phoenix.
A hunter raised his revolver.
Orion looked toward him.
The fiery wings spread.
Damien glanced over.
"You know how to use that?"
Orion breathed heavily.
"No."
"Fantastic."
The revolver fired.
Orion raised his hand.
Flame erupted.
Burning feathers tore across the street.
The bullet vanished inside the blaze.
Several hunters flew backward.
A nearby wall blackened.
Orion stared.
"Shit."
The flames continued spreading.
Something inside him urged him forward.
Not controlling him.
Encouraging him.
More.
Orion remembered Malden.
The house.
The screams.
Burn them.
Burn Beltor.
Burn every badge.
Every hunter.
Every officer.
Everything between him and Malden.
Orion clenched his fists.
"No."
The fire surged.
"I said no."
Cyrus's voice returned to him.
Sometimes not fighting takes more strength than throwing a punch ever could.
Orion breathed.
The flames trembled.
Then began retreating.
"I'm in control."
The wings folded inward.
Embers drifted around him.
Deep inside, the presence became quiet.
Not gone.
Watching.
Waiting.
Orion didn't know whether that terrified him—
or comforted him.
There was no time to decide.
The hunters attacked.
Right Hand
Damien fought like he'd been using his Soul Brand his entire life.
Not because he had.
Because the power felt as though it had always been waiting for the right reason.
An attacker swung.
Damien blocked.
Force gathered beneath his arm.
He redirected it.
The attacker flew sideways into another hunter.
Someone tackled Damien.
Damien caught the momentum.
Rolled backward.
Then released it through his leg.
BOOM.
The attacker launched across the street.
Damien stared.
"Okay."
A grin spread across his face.
"This is actually pretty useful."
Then Orion moved.
Flames exploded behind him.
Three hunters were thrown aside.
Damien's Brand surged.
His breath caught.
For an instant, the force inside him grew heavier.
Stronger.
He looked toward Orion.
The Brand pulsed again.
Damien frowned.
"What the...?"
He didn't understand it.
But every time Orion's presence seemed to grow—
Damien's power answered.
Not matching him.
Following him.
Like a shadow cast by strength.
Another hunter rushed Damien.
This time Damien barely moved.
One palm.
A twist.
The attacker flew backward twice as far as the first.
Damien stared at his hand.
The power was growing.
And somehow—
he knew Orion was the reason.
Across the street, Orion had considerably less control.
His flames reacted to instinct.
Fear made them defensive.
Anger made them violent.
Every movement created burning feathers.
He swung.
A wing-shaped burst swept three hunters away.
Someone attacked from behind.
Flames erupted automatically.
Orion spun.
"Sorry!"
The hunter crashed through a barrel.
Damien looked over.
"Did you just apologize?"
"I'm new at this!"
"So am I!"
"You're doing better!"
"I've had mine longer!"
"You said you've never used it!"
"SHUT UP!"
Another hunter charged Damien.
He ducked.
The man's fist passed overhead.
Damien caught the force of the missed swing—
and added it to his own shoulder.
He drove forward.
The hunter flew across the street.
Damien laughed.
"Alright, I like this."
Across the street, the cheating hunter from the tavern saw his opportunity.
He ran.
Damien noticed.
"Oh, absolutely not."
He sprinted after him.
The hunter turned.
Threw a desperate punch.
Damien caught it.
His Brand flared.
He felt everything in the strike.
Fear.
Momentum.
Body weight.
Force.
And somewhere behind Damien—
Orion.
Still standing.
Still fighting.
Damien smiled.
He captured the attack.
Magnified it.
Then sent it back.
One punch.
BOOM.
The hunter collapsed.
Damien stared down at him.
"Five."
Eventually, Orion and Damien stood back-to-back.
Hunters surrounded them.
Orion's flames flickered.
Damien breathed heavily.
Neither had much left.
Then—
"ENOUGH!"
Everyone stopped.
People had gathered.
Dozens.
Windows stood open.
Shopkeepers crowded their doorways.
Citizens lined the sidewalks.
A woman pointed toward the unconscious hunter.
"They got him!"
Another voice shouted.
"That bastard's been scamming people for months!"
"You guards never did anything!"
Someone pointed toward the officers standing at the edge of the street.
"You let those hunters do whatever they want!"
More voices joined.
"These two did more tonight than you people have done all year!"
The officers looked around.
Too many witnesses.
Too many angry citizens.
And lying unconscious in public was a wanted man they'd repeatedly failed to arrest.
One officer finally stepped forward.
"Stand down!"
The Chain Gang looked toward him.
"I said stand down!"
Weapons slowly lowered.
The officer pointed toward the unconscious bounty.
"Take him into custody."
Two guards moved forward.
Orion looked toward Damien.
Damien looked back.
"Think that's our cue?"
"Definitely."
They disappeared into the crowd.
Beltor Gates – Dawn
The sun rose behind them.
Orion and Damien walked toward the open road.
Neither had slept.
Damien looked back toward Beltor.
"Well."
He shoved his hands into his pockets.
"Guess I'm a criminal now."
Orion glanced toward him.
"You were already halfway there."
"I wasn't technically an outlaw."
"You were definitely working toward it."
"That's not how laws work."
Orion stopped.
Damien walked another step before noticing.
"What?"
Orion reached toward the pouch at his belt.
His fingers passed over several rings.
Simple Eternal Flame bands.
Old pieces belonging to members Damien had never known.
Then Orion found the one he wanted.
He pulled it free.
Damien looked at it.
This ring was different.
Dark metal formed the base.
Gold traced around its edges.
The Eternal Flame insignia was worked into its face, but the design was narrower and sharper than Orion's leader ring.
Jace's old ring.
The second-in-command ring.
Damien raised an eyebrow.
"That looks expensive."
"It's not about money."
Orion held it toward him.
"What is it?"
"Jace used to wear this."
Recognition crossed Damien's face.
"Your old gang leader?"
"Before he was leader."
Orion looked down at the ring.
"He was second-in-command."
Damien stopped smiling.
Orion continued.
"The regular members had simpler rings."
He pulled one halfway from the pouch.
Plain.
Functional.
Still bearing the Eternal Flame insignia.
"The core crew had their own."
Damien looked from the basic ring—
to the one Orion was offering.
"You've known me one day."
"Yeah."
"And you're offering me second-in-command?"
"Yeah."
"That's insane."
"Probably."
Damien stared at him.
Orion lowered the ring slightly.
"Jace told me not to give this to somebody because I needed help."
Damien listened.
"He said to give it to the person I'd trust to keep everybody standing if I couldn't."
Damien looked away.
"You barely know me."
Orion nodded.
"But I know what happened tonight."
He looked toward Damien's Soul Brand.
"You had every reason to turn on me."
"You barely had a bounty before we met."
"That's not the point."
Orion stepped closer.
"Your own people told you to come after me."
"You didn't."
Damien said nothing.
Orion continued.
"And the first time you ever used that Brand..."
He looked toward the road behind them.
"...you used it standing next to me."
Damien's expression shifted.
He had felt it too.
That strange moment.
The weight.
The certainty.
The way the power seemed to wake not merely because he chose to fight—
but because of who he chose to fight beside.
Orion held out the ring.
"I'm rebuilding the Eternal Flame."
His voice became serious.
"I don't know what it's going to become."
He looked at his own leader ring.
"I don't even know if I'm good enough to lead it."
Then back toward Damien.
"But I'm not doing it alone."
Damien looked at the ring.
Orion continued.
"If you want to walk away, walk."
"If you want a basic ring and just want to come along, I'll give you one."
Damien looked surprised.
"But if you're going to stand beside me..."
Orion held out the second-in-command ring.
"...then wear the one that means it."
For once, Damien had no joke.
He looked back toward Beltor.
Toward the bounty station.
Toward his father.
Toward the life chosen for him before he was old enough to choose anything.
Then he looked toward his Brand.
Tonight had been the first time he'd ever used it.
Because he decided to.
And somehow, the Brand had answered something deeper than that decision.
Something Damien still couldn't name.
Jace's words had been meant for Orion.
Find people who believe in something.
Make them believe in you.
Neither of them knew it yet.
But Damien's soul already had.
He reached out.
Took the ring.
Orion watched.
"You sure?"
Damien studied it.
"No."
Orion blinked.
Damien smiled.
"But I'm putting it on anyway."
He slid the ring onto his finger.
A perfect fit.
The moment it settled against his skin—
his Soul Brand pulsed.
Once.
Damien froze.
Orion noticed.
"What?"
Damien looked down at the ring.
Then toward Orion.
"Nothing."
"You sure?"
Damien stared at his Brand.
The strange sensation faded.
"Yeah."
He held up his hand.
"How's it look?"
Orion stared.
"Annoying already."
"Good."
Damien lowered his hand.
"So what exactly does a second-in-command do?"
"No idea."
"Excellent leadership."
"I've been leader for a week."
"That's somehow worse."
Orion smiled.
Then continued down the road.
Damien followed.
For the first time since Augustine burned—
Orion wasn't traveling alone.
The Eternal Flame had returned.
Two members strong.
And deep within Damien's Soul Brand—
something had finally found its purpose.
Not hunter.
Not enforcer.
Not servant.
Right Hand of the King.
Beltor
High atop the gate, the leader of the Chain Gang watched them disappear down the road.
Several hunters stood behind him.
One approached.
"You really letting him go?"
The older man remained silent.
Far below, Damien and Orion grew smaller against the morning horizon.
Finally—
"Yes."
"You could've stopped him."
The old man smiled sadly.
"No."
He looked toward his own Soul Brand.
"I've been stopping him his whole life."
The other hunter remained quiet.
"I had him branded because I thought it would protect him."
His fingers touched the faded mark.
"In a world like this, power gives you options."
He watched Damien.
"A Soul Brand meant work. Money. Protection."
He glanced toward the Chain Gang.
"People who'd have his back after I was gone."
"You thought you were helping."
"I was."
The older man paused.
"At least..."
His voice softened.
"...I thought I was."
He watched his son walking beside Orion.
Then noticed something glinting on Damien's hand.
A ring.
Not one of the plain Eternal Flame bands.
Something more important.
"You see that?"
The hunter beside him squinted.
"The ring?"
The older man nodded.
"I've seen Eternal Flame rings before."
His expression became more serious.
"That's not a normal one."
"What is it?"
"Command ring."
The other hunter looked surprised.
"Already?"
A faint smile crossed the old man's face.
"Looks like it."
For a moment, pride overwhelmed worry.
Then reality returned.
"You think he'll ever come back?"
The older man rested his arms against the railing.
"If he does..."
He looked toward the members of the Chain Gang.
"...we'd better be good enough to be worth coming back to."
The other hunter chuckled.
"You think he'll survive?"
The older man watched the horizon.
"With that Orion kid?"
He laughed quietly.
"Not a chance."
Then his expression softened.
"Don't die out there, kid."
The two figures finally disappeared.
The old man remained at the railing.
For years, he'd believed Damien's Soul Brand would give his son freedom.
He hadn't understood that giving someone power wasn't the same as giving them a choice.
Now Damien had chosen.
His power.
His road.
His crew.
Even the ring on his finger had been offered rather than forced upon him.
The older man smiled.
"You finally broke your chains..."
He turned from the gate.
"...son."