Fate: Diabolical

Fire with Fire

The moon was high in the black sky when Ira and his men returned to camp. Despite the late hour, worried kin rushed from their huts, some directly from their beds, to welcome the brave soldiers and settle their fearful hearts with the faces of their loved ones. Everyone in Volk Lune was well acquainted with death and it’s cold, indifferent touch. Each of them had lost someone, somewhere along the line, and they knew to treasure each precious moment, taking nothing for granted. As they milled by the central fire with their trembling hands clasped before them, they desperately counted the shadowy heads of the warriors making their way up the mountain, hoping to account for every brave soldier, terrified that a number less could mean one less in their homes tonight…

As always, Ira led the way, and as he stepped into view with a triumphant smile on his bloodied face, the town breathed a collective sigh of relief. Genro followed just behind with some of the others, his dark eyes sparkling with excitement as he slapped the back of a comrade and chanted mottos of victory, loud and proud. Though bloodied and bruised, the spirits were high amongst the soldiers as some of them broke into a run to meet the open arms of their dearest. Ira walked with his broad chest puffed proudly, confidence alluding from him as he congratulated himself on a trap well set. His heart was warm as he watched the joyous reunion between family and friends, and his mind turned to his mate whom he had sorely missed, despite it being less than a day since he had left. Usually Ira relished every mission, wanting to drag out every pulse-racing moment, wishing to avoid normalities mundane call, but this time it was different; the usual thrill of the fight felt diluted and unsatisfying with his mates face flying in his mind, beckoning him home. He had found himself far more effective than usual, faster, stronger, craftier. This win had been so desperately needed, and in his mind, it was no coincidence that it came after finding his soulmate. Clearly, she had been the missing piece, the key to his true potential. He could feel her filling up the cracks in his soul and balancing his flaws with her perfection. With her by his side, he felt truly invincible. The pack members fed off their Alpha’s confidence, smashing their quietly lurking doubts in the faces of their win. Finally, a win! 

Ira’s eyes grew somewhat colder as his searching gaze never landed on Ember. She should be here for his return, and if she wasn’t, then it was for a reason. Spotting Pax standing in the midst of the energetic crowd, looking somewhat overwhelmed, Ira summoned him with the wave of a finger.

‘Congratulations on the victo –‘ Pax barely stuttered before Ira impatiently cut him off

‘Where’s Ember?’

Wide eyed, Pax shook his head, his pink cheeks jiggling.

‘I don’t know Sir. I haven’t seen her since this morning, she had me bring food for your lady’

‘Well start there then. Find her and tell her to report to the office, we need to go over the summary meeting quickly. I would also like to get back to my lady’

Ira finished with a slanted smile, the confidence of his win still luminating his face. Pax jumped to it without hesitation, jogging the whole way to show his dedication.

As he jogged the shady, unmarked path to the boss’s quarters, Pax’s deceptively clever mind was working quickly, analysing his surroundings. The night was dark, but very clear; fewer stars than usual shone in the sky, offering many a dark shadow to hide in. The air was cold, but very dry with no sign of rain or storm. All in all, the perfect evening for a night job, like a runaway… or a kidnap. He had a fair guess as to where Ember was right now. He had seen her go straight from the Luna’s hut to the one next to it. He had watched her from the trees as she inspected his trail of pawprints. Not that she knew they were his prints; she would never suspect that. He was fortunate really, fortunate that his useless brother had gotten himself killed, forcing dear mother hen Ember to swoop in and ‘save’ the sweet little orphan boy. He really was a sweet boy then, truly devastated over the loss of his brother, the last family he had. He had gushed at the funeral of his brother’s loyalty and of his ultimate sacrifice for the pack, shining with pride and choking back childish tears… but he was stupid then, he saw clearly now. It had actually been Ember who helped him see the light. He had watched as she slowly killed herself, how she broke herself down to pieces until there was nothing left, under the orders of a man who cared nothing more for her than what use she could be to him. She had only been a few years his senior when she took him under her wing, but he had always had a baby face which made people prone to mothering him, something he used to hate, but now he used to his advantage. She had been such a hero to him then, the strong and wild adventurer who showed him all the beauty and excitement this bleak and sorrowful world could offer. He had tried to save her, tried to help her, but she was too lost, too hung up on foolish ideals of loyalty and friendship and childhood crushes to be saved. Now her eyes were dead with guilt and regret and there was nothing left to save. He had to let her go, as much as it broke his heart. He had been quietly planning his escape for a long time, determined not to become just another piece on Ira’s chessboard, but it was not easy to get away from Volk Lune. He had managed to keep his hands free of bloodshed by feigning cowardice and acting dumb, but escape required numbers he didn’t have, or something else to shield him… but no iron nor steel would hold out against this wolfs fangs. No, he needed a different kind of armour, he needed to surround himself in something Ira dare not touch. And fortunately, fate had dropped the perfect thing into his lap. All he had to do was get Ember’s key and draw her away for just long enough to grab his perfect defence. He hoped he wouldn’t have to hurt her, but he was prepared to go as far as he had to. He had been taken aback by how nice she seemed at breakfast, this sly plan already churning in his brain. When she had offered him such a sweet, innocent smile, he had almost backed out of his plan entirely, but he had strengthened his resolve again now. Who knows when another opportunity would present itself, he had to take this chance before he became another brainwashed cog in Ira’s wicked cult. Besides, as his fated lover she was either truly evil, or destined to broken by him, in which case death may be the kinder thing. In order to win against a man like Ira, you have to be willing to stoop to his level. Hold onto stupid ideals of fair fighting and you don’t stand a chance. Sometimes, you have to fight fire with fire.