Aidan
The Realms
Fourthday, 1st week of the 8th month, Godless Age 597
Pre-dawn
Ceallach Macht, Mistvale Highlands

Pain consumed every fiber of Aidan's existence. A shriek reminiscent of a hunting hawk tore from his throat as his flesh erupted in a cascade of flames. The pain was beyond anything he'd ever felt before, like being burned from the inside out. With a supreme effort, he focused the tattered remnants of his will and forced Phoenix Pyre into the Crown of the Exalted. The pain did not fade, exactly, but Aidan was able to push past it. A prompt shimmered into his vision as the flames bursting from Aidan's skin incinerated the vines holding him in place.

He accepted the cost. He didn't even feel the pain of his new Wound over the searing heat of the fire building within his body. As he dropped to the ground, oh so slowly, his newly-freed hands began to move in the gestures for Soulfire Blast. Aidan hit the ground on his knees but managed to twist and push his palms out toward the dark mass of thorny vines around the altar. He watched in detached fascination as the silvery fire wreathed his hands and then crawled across the room a foot at a time.

Another pulse of heat billowed out of his body right as the first reached the Taig. Aidan's watched terror overcome his tormentor's face before another prompt wavered into view.

Anything. Any price. Aidan watched his Soulfire Blast splash against the brambles. It was clear from their resistance to the fire spreading through the chamber that the Taig had protected them against heat, but Soulfire Blast would change that. He could barely concentrate through the agony, but his enhanced perception of time allowed him to aim around Cai's corpse.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the dakhol pull itself free of Ceirios, who collapsed in slow motion. The monster took an achingly slow step towards Aidan as the second wave of the Pyre washed over it. Curious, Aidan opened his combat log and scanned the entries. The dakhol had 95% resistance to fire, the highest of anything in the fight, but even that wasn't enough to save it from Phoenix Pyre. His new spell appeared to be using his maximum Health as its base damage value, and the second wave was twice as strong as the first. Let's see how it likes Soulfire. He redirected his magic towards the charging brute, managing to get a single tick of damage in—and set up the debuff—before flames once more filled the room.

The vines and creepers in the room were reduced to white ash, rising to the ceiling on the rush of heated air. Aidan's party members were only just beginning to recover and respond to the sudden turn of events. Ceirios, Anwn, and Llwyd slumped to the floor, but Ysbail landed on her hooves and heaved herself forward in an attempt to push the dakhol away from him with the weight of her body. Another series of notifications entered Aidan's thoughts on wings of scarlet flame.

Aidan accepted and returned the shreds of his attention to the combat. He was fast approaching the end of his ability to sustain Soulfire Blast, and he needed to ensure the Taig died. The dakhol's fur was already beginning to smoke and shrivel, so Aidan cast it from his mind and sought out his nemesis. Wings of fire sprouted from Aidan's back and lofted him into the air, giving him the angle he needed to spear the Taig on a silver-white lance of soul-fueled incineration. He was just in time, as a fourth surge of sacred flames poured from his soul and six more prompts battered at his fracturing mind.

Aidan healed the Traumas without hesitation; he could always earn more experience. He had to think about Cai for a moment, though. She was dead. Would healing her Wounds allow him to restore her to life? Somehow, he knew that such a feat was not impossible for Phoenix Pyre. It would drain all of his remaining Health, however, and likely end the spell early. Before he decided, he took stock of the situation. The dakhol was on the ground, convulsing it burned. The Deathbramble Heart—he learned its name from his combat log—was little more than ashes on the wind, and its creator, the Taig, was on its knees, overcome with pain. Ysbail was staggering towards the Taig, her sword somehow in her hand, poised to strike. Good. They can handle it from here. If I have a chance to save Cai, I would hate myself if I did not take it. He accepted the price.

Aidan thought the pain was terrible before, but it was nothing compared to the roaring inferno that engulfed his reality. If his back broke or his flesh tore, he couldn't tell. His entire existence devolved into a colossal ocean of pain upon which sat a tiny island: two more shining prompts.

He sent a silent apology to Brighid, then accepted. Aidan felt one final, titanic explosion emerge from his body, then, mercifully, darkness descended upon him.

Fionn
Dawn
Outside Ceallach Macht

Fionn embedded his ax in the skull of a Manikin made from a long-time friend's corpse, then wheeled and scythed through a trio of vines as they sought him out. Attacked from the inside, the Starchaser formation crumbled. Every warrior now fought for themself; it would only be a few more minutes before the last of them succumbed. Even the mages raining spells down from above and the hulking, nigh-invulnerable gargoyles couldn't save his force now. Every few seconds saw another friend or student fall and rise again as one of the undead. Still, every enemy he and his warriors dispatched was one less to attack the village in the next few days, so he continued to fight to the best of his ability.

Then every undead monstrosity on the hillside came to a jarring stop, all at the same time. The air grew still and quiet for a split second before a shriek, like an eagle or hawk but a hundred times louder, rang out from the north. One second of stillness passed, then, with the WHUMMMPH of a carefully-constructed bonfire catching alight all at once, a pillar of fire tore into the sky above the fallen city. As Fionn watched, dumbfounded, sheets of flame stretched out to the sides of the pillar, lifting into the air and then sweeping down like great wings the size of the city itself. On the downstroke, the vines and Manikins all around burst into flames. They dissolved into piles of white ash that billowed up into the sky, rising on waves of heat that nonetheless failed to harm any of the Starchasers, then falling like snow. The wings dispelled the heavy mist and fog as they passed through the streets, then vanished. As the brilliant afterimage began to fade from his sight, Fionn received a prompt—and so did everyone else in the Realms.

"Just what in the Nine Hells and Seven Mounting Heavens are you, boy?" The old warrior muttered, "You have put your hoof in the shit now, Aidan Lostlorn. I only pray, for your sake, that you can weather the storm this will create. Such a declaration of power..." Fionn turned and began issuing orders to the remnants of the warriors with a resigned shake of his head. He could not afford to assume that all the foul creatures controlled by the Taig died along with it. They would be busy patrolling for weeks, and he had far fewer fighters to do it with than he had hoped.

Zurai

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