Ignis’ screams echoes through the forest. Warren winces, but he keeps Whispering his bees towards the attack. His sister needs him.
His friends need him. He’s here, alone, fighting a boy he thought was his friend. He can feel himself crying and hates it. He smears angry tears from his face and pushes his bees on. They answer him gladly. Their nest is nearby and they sense the danger Ignis poses, sense the fire at his fingertips and the destruction in his heart. They sting and sting.
And still, for some reason, Ignis can produce only smoke. It pours from his fingers, forming a thick mist around him. Warren feels how it makes his bees drowsy. He sends a heady, warning scent towards them.
Attack! Attack!
They do. But Ignis grabs handfuls of them, crushing their little bodies, flinging the
