Chapter 17

  Complacency leads to stagnation. Never become complacent in life, always seek more. Ambition will guide you to your true self. Stagnation only leads to death.

  -Collected Teachings of the Exalted Sovereign

  3 Months Ago

  The crowd roared as Charon twisted through the air, narrowly avoiding an axe aiming right where his chest was a moment ago. The movement was graceful, elegant, limbs sweeping out and trailed by the fire of his armor’s jets that brought him to the other side of his opponent. It had almost been two years since he became the champion of The Ring. He had been undefeated since. Every opponent that met him met the same fate and each time he would be met with a roaring applause as he not only bested them, he made a show of it.

  He did not press the newfound advantage he had with his technique. He allowed his opponent, Cora was her name, to turn back toward him. She had been a newer arrival to Dasos and quickly made a name for herself in the ring. Which was how this match came to be; she wished to see the champion in action. She had disappointed Charon, like all the others. She came at him again, axe swinging in quick horizontal and vertical chops. Charon danced just out of her reach once, twice, and on the third swing at him he ducked low, leg spinning around and kicking up dust as he knocked the feet out from under Cora and leapt back. He turned to the crowd, arms outstretched and grinned wide. It was all too easy.

  The cheers of the crowd rang around him again, swelling him with pride that had long since replaced the warm flame of his potential inside of him. He turned back to his opponent as she got back to her feet, brandishing her war axe again and growling in frustration. Charon felt he had played with her enough, it was time to end it. The engines on his limbs burned hot while he prepared to launch himself towards her. He knew the exact angle he was going to jump and leapt in an explosive cloud of sand. He sailed through the air, body twisting once more as he extended a leg to deliver a powerful kick.

  Then he felt a stabbing pain in his heart, no, not stabbing, burning. The sudden panic in his lungs made him swing too fast, giving Cora time to parry the strike as he landed behind her in a stumble. He quickly turned back toward her; when did it get so hard to breathe? His suit display was trying to inform him of her movements but it was all starting to make him feel nauseous. She did not give him a reprieve to try and recover; she was on him in a moment, axe slamming against him and cracking his armor before the impact itself sent him slamming against the dirt. The audience cheered in surprise at the champion getting knocked down. He tried to shove himself back up, do anything, yet all he could feel was the growing heat within him. It was not the comfortable flames of his potential within providing him with confidence. The flames were hungry with their food supply dwindling by the second, they struck at all that was left for them to burn, his soul.

  Charon screamed. Not the scream of a warrior facing his death head on, but the scream of a man on fire with no water to douse him. Cora hesitated in her next attack as she switched her perceptions at the same time as the Ignited in the audience. They saw what little remained for the fire to burn and the edges of his soul begin to blacken. One man leapt from the high wall in the crowd to run to Charon. His father, Zaharias. “Charon!” he cried, yet Charon could not muster up a response. He could feel the flames in every fiber of his being, burning, searing, purging all that he was and all that he would ever become. Kindlings arrived seconds after his father did, Cora backing up as they did so, expression hidden under her helmet. Charon writhed on the ground in painful agony as the crowd was shocked into silence.

  “We need to bring him to Suneater,” a Kindling had said to his father who was trying to keep Charon from thrashing about.

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  “Then don’t just stand there, help me!” Zaharias barked back. The Kindlings moved around Charon but were finding some trouble because of his armor. They managed to hold him down long enough to deactivate his armor and pull him out of it. The screams were unfiltered now, filling The Ring and never ending until the Kindlings managed to get him onto a stretcher and escort him out of the arena in haste with Zaharias following.

  Phaidros was waiting for them outside, a terrified expression on his face as he saw the pain in his brother’s features, the scratching screams from his throat, and the tears streaming from his eyes. He looked to his father for some sign that everything was going to be okay but Zaharias did not spare him a glance. Phaidros followed after them all, disturbed but wanting to be there for his brother.

  Charon’s screams did not cease. Yet by the time they reached the temple they had become raspy croaks, the intensity still there yet the sound that came out did not match the severity at which Charon squirmed against his bindings. Two of the Kindlings had ushered Phaidros away before the rest entered. The Ideal was perched atop the root of the great tree, though was already moving down to meet them halfway across the temple grounds. Suneater did not need to ask what had happened. They simply gestured for the others to step back as they approached Charon, kneeling down besides the stretcher. Zaharias stood nearby and watched the Ideal work.

  Suneater’s hands went to Charon’s chest. “He is cindering,” they said. “You are privileged to be in my city. As otherwise the Exalted Sovereign is only known to intervene just before the point of them becoming a complete invalid.” Zaharias’ eyes widened.

  Through Charon’s muted cries, Suneater spoke. It was not a language that Charon recognized, yet it seemed to be working because Charon’s screams died out and were replaced with whimpers. His breathing was labored, his eyes blinked back open but they were unfocused and flicking around as if searching for something.

  “I… I can’t see.” Charon forced the words out, struggling to make his voice audible to the others.

  “It will take some time and effort for your sight to recover,” Suneater said, louder than they were speaking before. “As will everything else. Yet with time and patience, you will heal.”

  Zaharias looked at Suneater, body tense. “How long?” he asked.

  “Years, decades on average,” Suneater mused.

  “Decades?” Zaharias said, horrified.

  “Such is the nature of cindering. Since you have so little potential to work with, it will take much more to bring it back to normal levels. We could ignite him again and the process would speed up, however, he would have to be able to handle and work through the pain.” They looked down at Charon who was barely registering the conversation.

  Zaharias’s brow furrowed in concern before he knelt down beside Charon. “Oh my son,” he said, tone strained. “I had warned you about becoming complacent.” He shook his head. “Look at what you’ve done to yourself, Charon.” His son finally looked up at him, seeming confused as if he hadn’t even realized his father was there until just now.

  “Father…?” he asked weakly.

  Zaharias couldn’t look him in the eye. “Perhaps this is my fault. I should have pushed him harder. Now he’s…” He trailed off. “Please, I need a moment.” Suneater bowed their head before returning their attention to Charon and giving further instructions to the Kindlings.

  “Father? Is that you? Where are you going?” Charon croaked.

  Zaharias walked outside of the temple where Phaidros waited with fear written in his eyes.

  “Will Charon be alright?” Phaidros asked his father meekly.

  “He will live,” Zaharias said, tone solemn. “We will assist him as best we can… but whether he rises from the flames as the phoenix or becomes lost to the ashes is up to him. Run home, Phaidros. I will return with your brother when we are ready.”

  Phaidros opened his mouth to protest but quickly shut it. “Yes, Father.” With a haunted expression, he left to go return home.

  Zaharias sighed and looked back towards the temple entrance. Finally, after some hesitation he entered the temple again to look after his son. The son that had just ruined his own life.