Chapter 1

  A struggle need not be faced alone. Lift up your brothers and sisters who surround you. It is through unity that you may overcome struggles that would otherwise be insurmountable. It is through unity that our valor is known.

  -Collected Teachings of the Exalted Sovereign

  The Holy City of Dasos was bustling today. It was a small city; only tens of thousands called it home, however each one of those citizens was an Ignited or someone under the protection of the Ignited. Warriors roamed the streets in packs, while others leaped across the squat, stone buildings that made up the city’s bulk like stepping stones, all of them talking, laughing, or training. At all hours of the day sounds of metal clashing against metal could be heard somewhere as the Ignited dueled one another and smiths of the order worked on new armor and weapons.

  “They say there’s going to be a meteor shower tonight. Suneater is even going to make sure the branches and leaves don’t cover up the sky so we’ll get a clear view of it.” Phaidros grinned, excitement filling him as he looked up to the sky. Most of it was occupied by a vast network of near-black branches surrounded by leaves of red and green. Light from the sun peered through the leaves in gentle rays. Phaidros waited for a moment before adding, “Charon? Did you hear me?” He looked to his older brother, who was blankly staring ahead toward the vast gate before them. The two brothers were sitting on a bench along one of the nine paved roads that led out to one of nine gates surrounding Dasos. It was one of the small reminders that the city was not some ancient ruin being repurposed for the modern era. The silence made Phaidros purse his lips. “Charon?”

  “I heard you,” Charon replied, his voice coming out as if it took effort to speak above a whisper, which often made it sound like he was frustrated.

  “And…?”

  “And what?”

  The response made Phaidros’ shoulders sink in disappointment. “And when Father returns we can all go up on the wall and watch.”

  There was silence for another moment before Charon finally looked back to Phaidros, deep blue eyes squinting. His angular face did not help him look or sound any less angry than he was. Where once Charon had the look and build of a fierce warrior he seemed to be losing more and more muscle each day. The pressed, high-collared black uniform they all wore was starting to become loose on him. At least he still had his tan so Phaidros knew he was getting sun. Unlike his brother, Phaidros was built with a soldier’s lean body, tall like their father with wide shoulders and short, black hair that was beginning to curl. “You’re eighteen now and you’re excited about meteor showers?” Charon asked.

  Phaidros’ face flushed with embarrassment. “It’s… it’s a chance for us all to spend time together again!” he responded defensively. “Father has been working hard to become Shaped, it could be a celebration and we can all forget about…” His voice trailed off as his own green eyes drifted to the wooden cane currently resting on his brother’s lap just above a messenger bag that he carried with him everywhere. He already regretted speaking.

  “Forget about what?” Charon replied flatly. “Don’t answer that,” he added with a huff a second later. He lifted a hand up to his head to swipe away some stray locks of his shoulder-length, curly black hair and rested his hand against his open forehead as if it was aching. “Father has been spending so much time out there because he doesn’t want to look at me and I know it.”

  “Of course he wants to see you!” Phaidros assured, leaning over as he did so and frowning with concern. “No matter what, he cares about you, about us. He can tell you himself once he returns.”

  “It loses its impact when you tell him to say it,” Charon replied, eyes narrowing again as he saw people approaching the gate. Phaidros wondered why he didn’t just get himself glasses. His pride, his mind immediately answered.

  “Are you coming to see the meteor shower or not?” Phaidros sighed, shoulders slumping.

  “Of course I am.”

  This answer made Phaidros blink in confusion before he looked suspiciously at his older brother. “Did you have to make that so difficult?”

  “I have a right to complain. Everyone treats me differently now.”

  There it was again. Another reminder. Phaidros looked to the cane and back to his brother again, now permitting silence to hang heavily for another moment before he forced the words out, “You could try again, you know.”

  “No,” his brother snapped. “I’m not going through that pain again. You should worry for yourself, they won’t let you stay here if you don’t become ignited soon.”

  “They’re letting you stay,” Phaidros quickly shot back.

  “It’s different. I’m Cindered, Phaidros.”

  Silence lingered in the wake of that word. It was still all so new to them both. They had heard stories of the Cindered. They usually started in two ways, someone grew so used to victory they started to become complacent, or the fear of the fire slowly feeding upon them inevitably swallowed them in despair. All of them ended in the same way—pain, with the fire having nothing left to burn but the soul itself. When the flame was snuffed out, all that was left was a dried-out husk clinging to life, all of their senses crippled from the lack of potential.

  Phaidros still remembered the screams. It had been why he had not gone to be Ignited himself by now. Every time the thought bubbled up in his mind the doubts began. What if he couldn’t do it? What if he could not improve himself fast enough? What if he became like Charon?

  The last thought repeated in his head and he felt ashamed. Lift up your brothers and sisters who surround you. The words had been drilled into him from a young age, to help one another become their best selves—the climb became so much easier for all when everyone assisted the people around them. Yet every time he looked at Charon he felt less and less like there was something that could be done. Perhaps that was why the others treated him differently. Phaidros opened his mouth to end the silence when he noticed a commotion outside of the normal. A handful of armored Ignited rushed past the brothers towards the gate. The clicking of their comms could be heard from their helmets as a crowd was beginning to gather. “What’s going on?” Charon asked. Such activity near the gates wasn’t common. They weren’t guarded, as this was a city filled with armored, divinely gifted warriors. Any who attempted to attack the city would have the Ignited descend upon them like a swarm of large, powerful wasps. That wasn’t even counting the Ideal that watched over the city.

  “I don’t know,” Phaidros answered. Something was wrong. Phaidros leapt from his seat at the bench going to see what was going on before remembering to get his brother. He turned to Charon, who was struggling to his feet, pushing himself up with the help of his cane before he grimaced at his younger brother. Phaidros quickly moved to his side, helping take one arm as the two made their way towards the gate.

  Amidst the growing commotion, Phaidros made out two of the armored Ignited from earlier, helping a third walk through the gate. Their black, chitinous armor had cracked in various places, a rifle hanging from their back as they could hear their heaving breath. The two brothers recognized the small patterns of sweeping ridges on the armor and slight beak to the helmet as Zenovia, one of their father’s hunting partners. Where was their father then? The brothers exchanged looks before immediately pushing past the growing crowd towards them. The three stopped, Zenovia’s helmeted head lifting to meet their worried gazes.

  “Zenovia?” Phaidros asked. “Where is our father?”

  She was silent, still catching her breath before she shrugged away the two assisting her to stand upright. She lifted up her helmet with shaking hands. There was a hiss of airlocks releasing before she pulled it off entirely. Zenovia had fierce features with a deep scar trailing from her cheek down to her jaw in a jagged crescent. Her skin was the same tan as the two brothers but she had golden blonde hair she kept short, and piercing blue eyes. She was much older than the two of them but still looked to be in her prime, thanks to her ignited potential. Her gaze flicked between the two a final time as she struggled to find the words.

  Her silence spoke volumes on its own, both brothers’ faces slowly filling with the dread of realization.

  “Your father…” Zenovia began, tone curt, anger creeping in through the exhaustion. “Stayed behind. He told me to pass on to you both that if you do not see him at the next sunrise then he will see you again in Memory.” The Ignited surrounding them glanced between one another. Zaharias was one of the best in the city, one of the most likely to become Shaped of them all. One of the other armored Ignited began to usher others away, giving the three space.

  Both Phaidros and Charon were quiet at first. Charon set his jaw and forced out, “You left him out there?”

  “Brother…” Phaidros muttered in an attempt to soothe him but Charon forced his arm free. The act caused him to stumble towards Zenovia; she reflexively moved to assist him but he caught himself on her armor. He tried to shove her back but the effort was utterly futile. Still, he strained with effort, growling as the woman looked at him with a sympathetic frown.

  “I am sorry,” Zenovia began, the anger leaking from her voice to be replaced with pity.

  “If you are sorry, get back out there and find him then!” Charon shouted, still struggling against her.

  “I tried to,” she answered, voice now resigned. “The creature we were hunting turned out to be Shaped. We didn’t stand a chance. Theseus had already died and your father didn’t want to risk all three of us.”

  Phaidros kept his questions to himself until now. A pit formed in his stomach but he was trying to remain positive. “There’s… still a chance he could be alive, right? You can contact him through your armor, right?” He stared at Zenovia, strained hope in his eyes, but the look she returned made the sparking flame die as soon as it was born.

  Zenovia now gently grabbed Charon’s wrists and pulled them off of her, the man’s head hanging as he bit back tears. “I am sorry, you two, I had tried to contact him, feel him through our life sense, but there was nothing. As I was retreating back to Dasos the cindering beast caught up to me.” That would explain the cracks in her armor, Phaidros looked warily to Charon as Zenovia had haphazardly brought up the curse ‘cindering’ in his presence. His brother only glared while Zenovia continued. “I was lucky to get away with only cracked armor, it ran off when I got in sight of the walls.”

  “Our father would not let some beast kill him,” Charon growled in denial.

  “This wasn’t just ‘some beast,’” Zenovia said. “It was Shaped. From my experience, it was Shaped with a ‘fear’ identity as well.” Her eyes went distant for a moment. “I had to fight back shaking like a leaf the entire time we were near it…” She shook her head. “Your father was a great warrior, but a shaped creature like that was beyond even his skill.”

  Was a great warrior. Phaidros could hardly believe it. He stood there, speechless, his brother still growling in frustration against Zenovia’s grip. “W…what happens now?” Phaidros asked, voice trembling.

  “Now? I report this to Sacred Suneater and most likely they organize a new hunt with a much more prepared party to ensure the creature is stopped before it becomes Defined and truly a danger to the city.”

  Phaidros’ frown deepened. Another hunt. The killing of wildlife was strictly regulated by Suneater. Dasos and the jungle around it was a holy site to the Ignited. It was a world untouched by domesticated civilization where the flora and fauna naturally ignited, and often did so, even becoming Shaped as this beast had. Outside of theaters of war and strife amidst the civilizations of the Galaxy, Dasos was a place for someone to stoke the flames of their potential in relative safety, which was why most of the people that were invited into it were people who were on the edge of struggling to burn out like Charon did. It was safe inside the walls, not so much outside, however. Even if that monster butchered innocents outside of the walls, it could not be touched without Suneater’s explicit instruction.

  Charon finally gave up fighting at this point, going slack in Zenovia’s grip now out of breath. Phaidros nodded at Zenovia before hesitating. “May we go with you? It only feels appropriate that we are there too. He is…” He hesitated to say the word was just yet. He could still be out there. “Our father. We are under his protection and this will affect us as well. We should get to hear what happens.”

  Zenovia watched him for a long moment before sighing. “If that is your wish then so be it.”

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  “Can you let go of me already?” Charon snapped and Zenovia immediately released him. The sudden freedom from restraint made Charon drop to his knees. Phaidros immediately knelt to pick him up but Charon brought up his hand to stop him. “I can pick myself up,” he said indignantly. Zenovia frowned to herself and Phaidros took a step back, allowing his brother to pick himself back up and have his pride.

  “Let’s go,” Zenovia insisted, stepping away from the two of them and heading off toward the center of the city. Phaidros sighed and then followed after with Charon lagging behind.

  It was not a long walk to reach the center of the city. All of the main roads offered a clear path straight towards the Temple of the Exalted Sovereign, which sat up against the trunk of the great tree in the middle of the city. The building itself was utilitarian in design, a big block of stone with marble pillars holding up the open front. It always made Phaidros think of some sort of massive, yawning beast baring its teeth to all who entered. There was no ornamentation on the outside, making it match most of the smaller homes that surrounded it save for its size. As the three approached the temple they could hear voices echoing inside.

  Zenovia strode in through the great pillars, Phaidros and Charon following after. The interior of the building seemed much like the outside: barren. No pews lined the grand hall. Phaidros had heard that this was something that other temples to lesser deities would often have. Scratches and small cuts carved through the stone floor where Honor Duels often took place. The only ornamentation that was allowed in the building were the murals on the wall depicting the ascension of the Exalted Sovereign. Beautiful mosaics showed the Exalted Sovereign when he was still a man facing down beasts twenty times his size, commanding armies against an army of horrid multi-armed abominations that Phaidros could never quite identify. Some of the mosaics had become dull and chipped with time; though it was unclear whether this was due to collateral damage from duels or from the passing of time. All of these mosaics met in the center where the building opened up again to the trunk of the great tree where one of its enormous roots dug into the ground. Above the back entrance there was one final mosaic of the Exalted Sovereign surrounded by a pillar of fire over the body of a dragon that was impossibly vast in size. Around him were kneeling onlookers, each holding a sword in their hand, a depiction of his final ascension.

  At the far end, standing atop one of the protruding roots was a figure at least seven feet tall. Their “skin” was a near black made up of a gnarled and ancient bark that mimicked the wrinkles of an old man’s face. It matched the hue of the tree they stood on. Atop their head was a nest of small, thin branches covered in red leaves, they were all tied back behind their head by one of the green vines coming from the back of their scalp. They had no eyes in the traditional sense, instead white fire barely licked at the corners of their carved-out eyes. They wore chitinous armor much like the other Ignited, however Suneater’s armor was of a pure white color, near blindingly so, which contrasted against the black bark-like skin of their head. The armor itself barely seemed like armor anymore, like some of the chitin had been stretched out and had become loose and flexible, giving off the appearance that there were sagely robes being worn over a set of chitinous platemail.

  Phaidros, despite living in this city most of his life, had only seen Sacred Suneater a few times and never this close. Usually, audiences with them were reserved only for the Ignited. However, the moment that he had stepped into the temple he knew that what everyone said about them was true. He had felt a wave of warmth wash over him as he took those first steps, the doubts and fears that swarmed his mind seemed less daunting than before. He found himself taking steps with more confidence than he had previously, even noting that his brother leaned less on his cane. Such was the power of an Ideal, their potential burning so bright that it affected all nearby. Phaidros had been told that outside of the Order of the Ignited, Ideals were considered by many cultures to be gods themselves.

  Sacred Suneater stood before three armored Ignited, each with a helmet tucked under their arm. Phaidros could pick out one of them as human; one that had similar bark-like skin to Suneater, a drasil from Phaidros’ understanding; and one with fins in place of ears, their hair having the same consistency of seaweed, and their skin a blueish grey, an ikaroa. The latter came in so many shapes and sizes it was usually safe to assume if one didn’t recognize their features from any known source they were ikaroa. Suneater’s voice echoed through the chamber. “—fall near the city it is imperative that you investigate immediately.” Phaidros noticed how odd their voice sounded, like leaves rustling in the wind to form words; their mouth didn’t move as they spoke either. “Go now and see that it is done.” The warriors saluted, fists clenched over their hearts, then stepped past the three approaching to do as commanded. Sacred Suneater then looked upon Zenovia and the two brothers and Phaidros felt a small shiver from the weight of their unblinking, unmoving gaze.

  Zenovia immediately saluted. “Unbroken Sage who Devours,” she began, using the honorific of Suneater’s name within the Ignited, “you have received word already on what has happened, I am sure. I have come to make my official report.”

  Suneater’s eerie gaze betrayed no sign of emotion as it swept from the two brothers and back to Zenovia with a quiet creak. “Zaharias’ hunt did not go as planned then, I see,” they replied, tone as soft as they were able. “And so two cubs are left without a father and the beast is still out there.”

  Zenovia was about to answer, but Phaidros spoke first, one fist at his heart which he could feel pounding in his chest as he cut in. “We aren’t sure if he’s actually dead but—”

  “He has fallen,” Suneater interrupted, causing Phaidros’ eyes to widen. “I could feel his potential burn up as he died.”

  At this, Charon’s expression darkened as he took one cane-aided step forward. “If you felt that then you must have known that the creature they faced was Shaped!” he said angrily, Zenovia shot a look back at him, brow furrowed.

  “You speak out of turn, Cin—” Zenovia began before Suneater raised a hand, requesting silence.

  “I did,” Suneater admitted. This made Zenovia snap her gaze back up to Suneater in horror. “If one is to improve themselves…” Suneater continued, “one cannot seek easy victories and hunts.” The words made Charon’s grip tighten on his cane. “You know this, Zenovia, as did Zaharias when he took up the commission to hunt the creature. You could have taken many Ignited with you, but what would be the point of that? What knowledge and wisdom is there to be gained in having ten or twenty Ignited swarm a single, powerful foe?”

  “You kill the creature and save the people living outside of the city,” Phaidros offered, still shaken from the confirmation that their father was dead.

  “Perhaps true outside of Dasos,” Suneater mused. “But our mission is to give struggling Ignited a chance to shape. Thus to dissuade people from taking on such challenges denies those who wish to improve themselves in the eyes of the Exalted Sovereign. If the people outside of the walls wish to linger, they may, but with the knowledge of the danger they willingly put themselves in. That is not our concern.”

  Zenovia jumped back into the conversation. “I understand what you are saying, Sacred Suneater, but if the creature has been Shaped now, then how long until it becomes a threat to the city itself? How long before sending trickling amounts of Ignited to feed it makes it become Defined? If you try to deny this problem until it is past the gates, wouldn’t you just be able to smite it down regardless?”

  The silence that followed in the moments after Zenovia’s speech was deafening. They were spared, eventually, as the Ideal’s voice carried through with the calm intensity of a parent attempting patience with an unruly child. “In such a scenario where the creature ignores my presence and decides to attack the city, then I would be forced to act. This will deny any of you the chance for growth, however. A wasted potential for any and all of you and in this, with the Exalted Sovereign as my witness, I cannot allow.”

  Zenovia grit her teeth and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Phaidros could see understanding on her face before she continued. “Then it is simply up to us to hunt the beast how we see fit.”

  Suneater nodded. “And so the commission will be offered to all Ignited again until the beast is eventually slain, with any updated information you can provide to the new hunters, Zenovia.” Zenovia bowed her head, agreeing wordlessly.

  Phaidros stood there, stunned. Nothing was going to happen? Nothing was going to change? They were just going to hope that the next hunting party could be the one to take it down? Phaidros’ eyes trailed to his brother who appeared to be seething. How many more people were going to die?

  “There is one more thing,” Suneater said, eyes falling purposefully onto Phaidros now. “A matter of your continued stay here.” Phaidros’ gaze snapped back to Suneater, fear spiking in his chest as the Suneater continued. “With the death of your father and your growth into adulthood, you are now neither Ignited nor under one’s protection. Which means you must either be exiled from the city, or join us.”

  “Surely you don’t mean to kick the boy out the day his father died,” Zenovia said. “You surely have some mercy, Suneater?”

  “Every day in this world is a war for your right to live in it, Zenovia,” Suneater quoted. “They may have the luxury of mercy outside of this city but not in it.”

  Charon took another step forward, now standing equal with Zenovia as he glared up at the Ideal. “I may be cindered but I am still one of the Ignited, surely that counts for something?” It was a weak defense, but Phaidros still appreciated that his brother was trying.

  Suneater looked at Charon and even without expressions upon their gnarled visage, Phaidros felt the same look everyone else always gave his brother: pity. “You are no true Ignited, cindered one,” they responded softly. “You may ignite your potential again to put your brother under your protection… but it will mean going back to that state of pain you wished so desperately to end.” Charon set his jaw, the hand on his cane clenching the head tightly as he considered. Phaidros could see the conflict in his eyes, the terror. He remembered that day, it was one of the few he had seen a glimpse of Sacred Suneater before their father whisked his son away into the temple. He remembered waiting outside, hearing the screams.

  It was at that moment Phaidros realized that he stepped forward to the opposite side of Zenovia. “I’ll… I’ll do it,” he said, the words spilling from him before he truly thought of them. Charon’s gaze snapped to him, pained, but Phaidros continued looking up at Suneater. “I will join the Ignited and…” he hesitated for a brief moment before continuing, “would like to invoke the rite of vengeance upon the beast who slew our father.”

  Now Zenovia’s gaze was on him. “Ash and cinders, boy, are you trying to get yourself killed?” she yelled, about to add more before Suneater once more held up a hand.

  “The boy is owed this much if he becomes ignited,” Suneater answered in a tone that bordered amusement. “A family member or loved one may invoke the rite should the person in question be slain. However… There are many hunters out there who will be eager to take on this Shaped Beast to prove themselves, and you are only now making the choice to become ignited.” They lifted their head. “You will have one month to complete or abandon this quest before I return it to the other Ignited.”

  “One month?!” Zenovia cried.

  Suneater’s gaze remained on Phaidros. “While this is a short time, I am sure you will be able to find those who will be able to assist you to make this challenge less daunting, hm?” The Ideal turned back to Zenovia. “Unless you are still so shaken from the experience that you do not wish to also get vengeance for your hunting partner’s death?”

  “That’s—”

  “Excellent.” Suneater nodded. “The boy’s odds have just increased. Now, I am sure you both have a lot of training to do. The ritual of igniting will take place tomorrow, I shall put in a request with one of the smiths to prepare him his armor and a selection of weapons.”

  “Hey!” Charon said, one arm waving. “Am I invisible here? What about me? I wish to get vengeance as well.”

  Everyone looked to Charon, as if forgetting he was there until now, the Suneater’s attention fell back on the Cindered. “How do you plan to do that?”

  “Well I—”

  “If you ignite yourself again, there is a chance you will recover, yes, but under great stress. It will take every fiber of your being fighting for survival to claw your way back to your normal life. When you are standing here, feeling the same pain you felt months ago, will you have the strength to push past it? To walk again while your soul burns from the inside out? Or will you burn the remaining drops of potential you still have to ash? You think yourself to be on the level of the Phoenix?”

  Phaidros’ expression saddened as he looked to his brother. There was a deep-seated anger and guilt there. He could see the memories flashing through his blue eyes, the pain, the anguish. He knew that Charon wished to help, to do something, but what could a Cindered do?

  “Well?” Suneater prodded.

  “I… I cannot,” Charon eventually said, voice strained. “I wish to but—I cannot.” His head lowered.

  Suneater nodded sagely. “Then you all are dismissed. The ritual shall take place at first light tomorrow. You should get some rest and prepare yourself, young Phaidros.” They waved their hand. The matter was decided.

  Zenovia turned and began walking, her feelings on the matter hard for Phaidros to decipher. Phaidros paused to look at his brother, Charon’s eyes were still on the ground, teeth clenched.

  “Are you coming or not?” Zenovia asked, looking over her shoulder, her disdain bleeding through her tone.

  Phaidros stepped over to Charon, one hand going for his shoulder before the brother brought up his hand, turning and hobbling out. Phaidros sighed then followed after.

  He had just signed himself up to potentially become just like Charon someday, if he failed or died at the hands of the same beast that killed his father. The thought haunted him, but he couldn’t leave his brother alone in this city, or demand that he ignite himself again.

  The walk back home was quiet as Phaidros pondered on his future. Zenovia remained ahead of the brothers and every attempt Phaidros made to try and walk with his brother was met with more heated stares. The sun in the sky was just beginning to set over distant mountains. They had gotten about halfway home before Charon stopped, followed by Phaidros and Zenovia soon after. Phaidros looked back to his brother. “…Charon?”

  “Why did you agree to become ignited?” he asked.

  There was an uncertain pause, Phaidros’ brow furrowing in confusion. “I did it so that I wouldn’t have to leave you all alone, brother,” he answered.

  “As if I couldn’t take care of myself?” Charon challenged.

  “What? No, with Mother and Father gone now all we have is each other. I wasn’t about to ask you to become Ignited for my sake.”

  Charon grimaced. “And what, I’m supposed to just sit here on the sidelines and watch as it kills you too?”

  Zenovia walked back over to them, “Your brother made his choice, the least you could do is respect it,” she said with a resigned sigh, “and support him. You…” she hesitated, “are an Ignited, despite the mistakes you made, you shouldn’t be lashing out like this.”

  Charon’s eye twitched. “I have a hard time remembering that sometimes, with how everyone looks at me.” He looked to Phaidros. “How long until you start looking at me like that too?”

  “Charon, I–”

  “Don’t.” He sighed. “I am sorry, I just need time to think.” He then walked past him and Zenovia heading down the main road towards one of the gates. Phaidros panicked then began to move after him before Zenovia grabbed his arm.

  “Leave him be. You don’t need that sort of distraction right now. He’ll huff and moan about it for the rest of the night and apologize by morning.”

  Phaidros frowned but nodded, watching his brother hobble off, worry on his features, and guilt for even feeling that worry. He stood there, hesitant, then walked off with Zenovia toward their homes.