The sky was no longer a sky.
It was a sea of fire.
The last bones of the village melted into their foundations, roofs folding in on themselves like wax. Air shimmered. Shadows bent. The world had become a furnace—and at its heart rose the creature that birthed it: Glisarin Ignis, the Ember Veil.
She climbed through the smoke on wings of molten gold, each beat scattering sparks that drifted like dying stars. Her screech split the clouds and the wind that followed scoured bark from the last trees still standing.
Hunnt squinted into the glare, one hand raised against the heat. His throat was dry; every breath scraped like glass. Beside him, Alder crouched low, armor fused to his shoulder, one arm trembling as it clutched the Great Sword's hilt.
"Can you still fight?" Hunnt asked. His voice was rough, broken by smoke.
Alder spat blood into the ash. "If I can stand, I can swing."
Hunnt's gaze followed the flaming silhouette above. "Then we stand."
The monster turned in the air. Wings cut through the storm. Veins of fire rippled along her chest and neck, glowing brighter with every beat. When her jaws opened, the heavens turned white.
Then came the rain.
---
Fire fell like meteors. Each blast cracked the valley open, turning soil to glass and the air to knives. The ground convulsed beneath the hunters' feet.
Hunnt yanked Alder behind what remained of a wall. The next explosion followed a heartbeat later, turning their shelter into molten rubble. Both men were thrown across the square. Hunnt landed hard, shoulder-first, sliding through the ash. He pushed up, gauntlets sizzling.
"Above!" Alder shouted.
A shadow swept the ground—Glisarin diving straight down. Hunnt rolled aside just as her claws split the street, tearing trenches through the molten stone. The air struck him like a physical blow, heat hammering his lungs.
Alder charged from the flank, Great Sword raised. His swing connected with the edge of her wing. The blade sparked, slicing through membrane. Blood sprayed orange and gold.
The creature shrieked and lashed outward. Her wingbeat flung Alder across the square, smashing him into a pillar. Stone collapsed; his sword clanged free.
Hunnt moved before thought. He sprinted through the haze, grabbed the weapon from the ground, and hurled it back toward its owner. "Catch!"
Alder snatched it midair, twisting into a spinning slash that met a descending claw. Steel met flame. The block held, but the recoil rattled through his frame.
Hunnt pressed forward. Every movement had rhythm now—breath, step, strike. The world was heat and timing.
Anchor Step. His heel bit into shifting stone, holding steady against the earth's tremor.
Redirect. He slipped under a tail sweep, body turning with the motion so it flowed past instead of through him.
Pulse Drive. His counterpunch hammered into her ribs; the second, into her chest.
Each strike hit like a drumbeat. Scales cracked; the fire in her throat sputtered.
Alder saw it. "That's it!" he shouted, swinging again.
The opportunity vanished in a gust of ash. Wings snapped open, forcing both hunters backward. When the haze cleared, she was gone—rising into the storm once more.
The sky fell again.
---
Flame rained without pattern, raw and merciless. The hunters ran through the inferno, dodging falling debris. Each impact lifted waves of heat that knocked them off balance.
Alder's breath came in ragged bursts, blood flecking the ash. "Can't—keep—this pace."
Hunnt caught his arm, pulling him behind a mound of half-melted stone. "Then we don't. We wait."
"For what?"
"She'll have to land eventually."
Alder wiped soot from his face, laughing dryly. "That's your plan? Wait for death to come down?"
Hunnt didn't answer. His focus turned inward. Observation Awareness filled the silence—sensing air pressure, heat shifts, the rhythm of her flight. Every wingbeat carried weight; every burst of flame, a breath in a larger pattern.
Then came the change. A rush of air sharper than the rest. A break in tempo.
"She's diving," Hunnt said, eyes opening. "Now!"
---
The monster fell like a comet, wings folded tight, fire trailing her descent. She struck with a sound that shattered glass and bone.
Alder was already there. He met her impact with a roar, driving his sword into her shoulder. The blade bit deep, blood glowing like molten metal.
Hunnt followed through the smoke. Anchor Step fixed his stance as the shockwave hit. Then came three rapid strikes—short, sharp, perfect rhythm—each one a Pulse Drive aimed along the veins of her chest. Heat flared, then faltered. The Glisarin reeled backward, body quaking.
Her tail lashed. The blow caught Alder in the ribs, throwing him through the rubble. His sword spun away; his body rolled until a wall stopped him.
"Alder!"
A groan answered. "Still… breathing."
Another wingbeat flung Hunnt across the square. He skidded, palms burning, vision smeared red. The world swam in light and pain. Above him, the monster rose again—slower now, her wing torn, blood raining sparks.
---
The Glisarin hovered over the ruins, ringed in her own flames. Each breath came harsher, her body trembling with strain. The air howled; the ground glowed beneath her shadow.
Hunnt forced himself upright, chest heaving. Alder staggered nearby, leaning on his sword like a crutch. Neither needed words. They understood the truth: the next exchange would decide it.
The horizon bled red into white. The monster's wings spread wide, her roar a wound in the world.
Hunnt's gaze lifted, sweat streaking down his burned face. "When she lands next," he said, voice steady despite the tremor in it, "we finish it."
Alder spat blood and smiled crookedly. "Then let's make sure she lands hard."
Hunnt flexed his hands; the skin beneath the gauntlets blistered but steady. The air around him shimmered from the heat of his focus.
He could feel her through Observation Awareness—the pulse of fury, the thread of life burning itself away.
The wind changed. The sky brightened until it hurt to look.
"Come on then," Hunnt whispered.
The heavens screamed in answer.
The monster dove—
a sun falling to earth.