in ashes unyielding

They came at night. 

Elvania had always been a peaceful village, out in the swathes of nature and surrounded by dense forestry—the kind that would be far too easy for the uninitiated to get lost in. 

Out here in the lush greenery, it felt so far removed from city life that it was almost as if it did not exist. Jamie certainly forgot about it over his years and years of living there—though he’d left behind a life of established prominence, one that had been secured by the notoriety behind his family for generations, he did not miss nor have any remote desire to go back to it. 

How could he, when Jamie experienced such serenity amongst the trees? Why would he, when he had such a tranquil life as a healer in the woods, spending his days concocting various tinctures and treating the wounded and the ill? He was happy. He was truly, truly happy. 

It had been a near idyllic lifestyle, one he found complete and utter satisfaction in, even if being a healer meant he had to tend to the injured. Not that he didn’t enjoy taking care of others, but it is an undeniable fact that he had more of a frontline position to better see the conflicts and skirmishes that happened in the surrounding area than he would in the city. 

Still, Jamie did not spare a thought dwelling on it too deeply. 

These clashes fortunately happened far away from Elvania, never close enough to disrupt the quietude of the village. Who could blame him—or anyone that lived there, in that matter—for not wondering if that violence would ever broach the borders of the untroubled day-to-day that he was accustomed to? 

His fellow villagers felt the same; other elves, faefolk, and various friendly entities, all wanting to live their lives of peace, so much so, that they never stopped to consider what life would be like without it.  

Some would say it was the village’s last mistake.

Jamie awoke to the sounds of screams. Immediately, he was up on his feet—all lethargy gone in the instant between sleep and wake. Instead, it was replaced by an icy lance of dread—not once, not here, had he ever heard such a sound, and fear flared within him until it bordered on immobilising.

He didn’t let it. He didn’t, and while there remained an undeniably large part of him that wanted nothing more to hide and hide and hide, Jamie knew he’d regret it more afterwards.

Even if it meant his knees shook. Even if his ribs rattled with each shuddering, panicked breath he took, hands trembling and mind conjuring up the worst of possibilities, only to be replaced by one somehow even worse. Even if the last thing he wanted to see was—

Fire. There was a fire. 

For a moment, Jamie could do nothing but stare at it, completely frozen. The darkness in his home meant the flames were the only source of illumination, and the harsh lighting flickered around his face and lit it up in a constantly moving shadow. Fire was nothing new to him, but this one was; it roared, it consumed, it lay absolute, undeniable waste.

And by the gods, was it loud. Since when was fire so loud? Fire was fire but like this, it felt a monstrous entity, alive with a hand that was as strong as it was cruel. Its cruelty was the most terrifying kind, for it was not cruelty at all, but just a natural (like the wind, like the trees, like the rain) phenomenon being… itself. Not uncaring, because to be uncaring it would have to have the capability to care, but existing as is, regardless of the fallout around it. 

That’s when he caught sight of it—of them. 

With horns curved and reaching towards the heavens, skin the colour of blood roses, a pair of demons stood tall and proud amidst the burning carnage. All dark shades and hues except for the hair that sprouted from both their heads, resembling the richness of spun gold, almost comedic in how mismatched it was to the rest of them. 

Bodies littered the ground beneath their feet, unrecognisable from this distance. Jamie could only hope that they were unconscious and not dead, and even as naive as he could be, that hope felt more like foolishness than innocence. The numbers… the sheer numbers… how could anyone do such a thing? All they wanted here was lives of peace and warmth, how could Jamie be watching that simple desire be set ablaze with ash and blood? 

A flash of movement, and Jamie gasped as he saw someone he knew. Xanadari—one of the Forestwatchers—charged one of the demons with the trusty blade he’d always kept by his side, screaming an anguished war cry.  

But it meant nothing.

Without mercy, without even a heartbeat’s worth of hesitation, the demon cuts him down. As if he never mattered. As if the life he’d thrown away was worthless. 

Jamie whimpered. 

His knees gave out with alarming suddenness. So much so, that it felt like they had long since been waiting to, and it was all he could do but to clutch at himself and sob, barely noticing the pain of collapsing to the floor. The one from the heart was far worse, engulfing and with a depth that threatened an inescapable endlessness, one of fear and injustice and and loss. 

To be honest, he’s not sure how long he laid there. He wasn’t sure of anything, and a part of him wished for the fire to consume him, as well. 

So when the door to his cottage opened, he did not move. He did not have the energy to do much of anything, let alone fear for his life. 

‘What do you think, Anya?’

‘Hm, a bit weak-looking. Still whimpering and snivelling too. Buuut…’ 

Without warning, Jamie’s head was wrenched forward. He did nothing but look into the demon’s eyes, a mismatched pair of crimson and amber—akin to the blaze he could still hear. 

She grins.

‘...I think it would fetch us a pretty price.’