Chapter 26 – This is what you ask for

Aisling was no longer listening. The voices around her rose, a crescendo of arguments and false politeness dripping with contempt. Angels and demons clashed verbally, their words sharpened like blades. She could feel their visceral desire to truly tear each other apart, to trade words for blows.

The envoy from the Council, a towering and cold Watcher, had joined the circle, bringing his own set of demands. He insisted that the Seed be handed over to him. But neither the angels nor the demons responded to him with the slightest respect. Their disdain for him was palpable, almost corrosive. The Watcher stood tall, impassive, but his eyes betrayed a poorly concealed fury.

Uriel and the members of the Hellguard remained in the background, their faces marked by unreadable emotions. Was it shame? Resignation? Silent anger? Or simply an infinite weariness? Aisling didn’t care. Their state of mind, or whatever was left of it, no longer interested her.

Anger, however…

She could feel it like a suffocating heat in the air, a vibrating tension that made each breath more difficult. This collective rage was feeding something greater—the presence lurking beneath the fortress. That ancient, massive, burning, and ravenous thing.

They didn’t understand what they were doing. Their anger fed the growing consciousness within her—the other half of her mind, an incandescent entity reveling in the chaos. She felt its shivers of exhilaration, its purring satisfaction at every raised voice, every surge of hostility.

Aisling could feel it, that immense presence nestled inside her, an unbearable heat brushing against her thoughts like a fire drawn to her. She couldn’t suppress the predatory smile that stretched across her lips—cruel, hungry. She knew the influence of this burning entity was spreading through the room. The consciousness was fueling their rage, amplifying their resentments, clouding their judgment. The arguments grew sharper, the insults more venomous. Their decisions blurred, and none of them, blinded by their own pride, saw the invisible hand pulling the strings.

Soon.

Find me, the consciousness murmured, a guttural purr vibrating through her skull. A mental image imposed itself: a colossal chain plunging into a lake of flames.

Be the instrument of our rage.

Aisling’s smile widened, nearly ecstatic.

“How much longer are we going to waste on these useless debates?” Raguel snapped after yet another proposal from the infernal envoy.

His eyes blazed with impatience and contempt.

“These precious days could be spent preparing for the War of the End, yet instead, we waste them running in circles!”

He turned to the Watcher, pointing at him as if he bore the full weight of his exasperation.

“The Seed is in our possession. The fire elemental is under our control. I will surrender neither! The Council demanded we reach a consensus—here it is!”

The demonic envoy, a venomous smile curling his lips, inclined his head slightly, a gesture as polite as it was provocative.

“Do you have a better suggestion, son of Heaven? So far, all I hear are whimpers and complaints fit for a petulant child.” The demon’s drawling voice dripped with corrosive sarcasm. “Why not settle this as in the old days? With a duel.”

Raguel let out a scornful laugh.

“A duel? Between you and me, miserable insect? The light of Heaven would crush your insolence before you even set foot on a battlefield.”

The angels in the hall voiced their agreement loudly, while the demons responded with mocking laughter. The tension mounted, each side edging dangerously close to open conflict. Aisling kept smiling, unmoved at the heart of the chaos. She heard everything in echoes, as if their disputes reverberated directly within her mind. Anger whispered in their ears.

A duel… Yes, a marvelous idea. Fighting to decide who had the right to speak, who would strike first… It made no sense. But anger made such details irrelevant. And in the depths of the crater, something stirred, restless.

Almost.

Only one thought was missing. Who would have it first? Who, consumed by rage, would be the most blinded by pride?

“A duel? Very well!” Raguel’s voice thundered, commanding absolute authority.

The uproar in the hall died instantly, as if every being had collectively held their breath.

“Since the prize of the War of the End is Earth, I offer you this, demonic spawn: let the Seed be placed below, guarded only by the Horseman. Send your best warriors, and I will send mine. Whoever slays the traitor wins the Seed, and their side shall have the honor of choosing the battlefield for the final war between Heaven and Hell.”

A thin, venomous smile stretched across Raguel’s lips.

“Since you already consider yourselves victorious, I assume you have no objections to this… childish whim, do you?”

Aisling smiled inwardly. Pride… What anger could accomplish when it fed upon it! She felt a wild heat rise within her, as if invisible fangs were closing around an imaginary prey. The entire room seemed to vibrate with the growing intensity of emotions.

“My Lord,” Uriel interjected urgently, stepping forward with a mix of audacity and desperation. “The bearer will not survive this!”

Aisling turned to her, surprise flickering in her gaze. She was worried about her? Too late—far too late for that. The burning consciousness within her pounded against her thoughts with relentless force. Too late. Too late. Join me. Be the instrument of our vengeance.

Raguel dismissed Uriel’s intervention with an irritated wave of his hand, as one would swat away an annoying fly.

“After what she has done, this is all she deserves!” he barked. “And as for you, Watcher, do not even think about protesting! The Council wanted us to find common ground, and in the name of Balance, we shall carry out its will!”

His gaze pierced into the demonic envoy.

“So, demon… Do we have a deal?”

The envoy hesitated, his features twisted by internal conflict. Aisling fixed him with a burning stare, vengeful fire gleaming in her eyes. Give in. Give in to your pride. Let yourself be consumed by rage. Burn with us.

“It’s a deal!”

A roar erupted through the hall. Shouts, cries of triumph, fevered cheers echoed from both sides, angels and demons alike bursting into an ecstatic fury. At last, they would be unleashed.

Only Uriel and the remnants of the Hellguard remained frozen, visibly unsettled by what had just transpired. They were not fueled by anger. Interesting. Aisling studied their expressions for a moment before looking away. It didn’t matter. They would all burn, in their own way.

Raguel, satisfaction curling his lips, extended Aisling’s chain to the first willing hand.

“Take her to the Horseman! No weapons, no armor. She stays as she is!”

Uriel surged forward before anyone else, grasping the chain with desperate urgency. Her fingers tightened around the cold metal, and she pulled gently on Aisling’s arm, leading her back toward the balustrade overlooking the burning abyss. The Hellguard—what little remained of it—quickly closed in around them, forming a living shield against the searing gazes of the enraptured angels and demons, drunk on fury. Their eyes flickered over the shifting shadows and the voices rising with violent promises, stoked by the coming clash.

“What do we do, Chief?” one of the soldiers asked, his voice low but tense.

The entire fortress suddenly seemed to be in turmoil, like an agitated hive. Uriel briefly turned around, her face marked with an expression of doubt and determination.

“We need to get her out of here… Hold on…”

The angel quickly slipped something into Aisling’s hand. The young woman mechanically lowered her eyes to her palm. She instantly recognized the object. The ring. Nimue. Uriel leaned slightly toward her.

“The Watcher told us you were in trouble… I tried to get you out earlier, but the other legions wouldn’t do anything without Raguel’s presence. War is handling the distraction… Little human, can you hear me?”

Aisling didn’t respond. Her fingers trembled slightly around the ring. She could have thought, but the anger boiling within her drowned out any rational thought. Aisling was angry. She wanted to be angry.

No… she was anger itself.

“Something’s wrong, Uriel…” Nimue’s voice rose from the ring, filled with worry. “She’s not herself anymore.”

Uriel frowned, and with palpable care, she placed her hands on Aisling’s face, forcing her to raise her head. She was looking for something in her eyes, perhaps a spark of lucidity. She immediately stepped back.

Aisling’s eyes, usually a bright green, were slowly turning red, bright embers in the hearth of an uncontrolled rage. Her skin, already marked by the black roots of the seed, was now covered in new streaks, glowing and burning scars, as if her flesh were burning from the inside. The edges of these wounds had an ashen, gray, dead hue. Uriel pulled her hands away as though she had just touched a glowing ember.

“Chief…” murmured one of the Hellguard soldiers, uncomfortable, his eyes fixed on Aisling.

But Uriel didn’t respond immediately, her thoughts spinning frantically.

“She’s losing control… Don’t hurt her,” Uriel whispered to her soldiers, who exchanged worried glances. “Aisling, it’s not you. The elemental has poisoned you. Think of your people, your home. You want to go home!”

But Uriel’s words seemed swallowed by the storm raging inside Aisling. The elemental’s burning voice screamed so loudly in her mind that she couldn’t hear anything else. Join me. Be the instrument of our rage. We will burn everything.

Aisling lifted her gaze to Uriel, a twisted smile on her lips. Her voice, when she spoke, was no longer entirely human. A rough, animalistic tone slipped through, like a low growl beneath it.

“But I am home…”

A cold shiver ran through Uriel, and before she could respond, a deep roar made the ground tremble beneath their feet. It seemed to come from the lava lakes below. The Yurba’s Collar, attached to the fortress, violently came to life, as a titanic force tried to break them. The stone walls vibrated, casting a threatening shadow over the assembly.

The disputes that had filled the air up until then died out like candles blown out by a storm.

“Uriel! What does this mean?” Lord Raguel, standing tall, fixed his gaze on the angel and Aisling with a mix of disbelief and contempt.

His voice, heavy with authority, erupted like thunder in the assembly, drawing all eyes to them. The infernal emissary screamed with his shrill voice.

“Liars! Trap! It’s a trap!”

His words acted like a detonator. Demons drew their weapons, and the angels immediately reacted, drawing their swords. The accumulated tension, unbearable, collapsed in an instant.

Another roar rose from the depths, closer now. It had nothing human or animal about it—a cry of molten magma mixed with the cracking of broken rock. The walls shook, the chain attached to the citadel vibrated violently, and the heat in the air became almost unbearable.

Something was emerging. Something enormous.

Aisling felt her breath grow heavier. She could sense, in her own limbs, a raw power that was not hers. Her nostrils were overwhelmed by a suffocating odor of sulfur and ash. A burning heat slid over her tongue, leaving a metallic and coppery taste.

The angels and demons, weapons still raised, froze immediately. Their gazes instinctively turned toward the chasm, the shadows dancing on the walls, casting grotesque, shifting shapes.

Then, it appeared.

First, a massive paw surged from the lava, covered in thick plates like obsidian, glowing with liquid magma, claws long and curved. A second paw followed, leaving incandescent grooves in the black stone as it emerged.

The creature slowly rose, its feline body sculpted in a flowing fusion of rock and lava. A monumental mane, swirling with living flames, extended around its head, sending fiery sparks in every direction. Its eyes, two burning pits, seemed to swallow any soul that ventured into them. Each movement dropped molten magma onto the ground, leaving smoking craters in its wake.

Its body, compact and powerful, was covered in a cracked exoskeleton. With every breath, plumes of smoke escaped from its nostrils, accompanied by sparks and ash. It roared again, and this time, the sound seemed to vibrate through the bones of the spectators, a mix of rage and raw power that consumed all attention.

A freezing silence fell over the assembly, as angels and demons fixed their eyes on this living embodiment of flames. The creature finally set its burning gaze on Aisling, and in her mind, the burning voice resounded, triumphant and commanding.

“Our time has come.”

Aisling felt her breath quicken as the world around her slowly lost its shape. What had once appeared to be a grand hall, filled with angels in golden armor and demons with dark, menacing silhouettes, began to transform under her gaze. The colors dissolved, replaced by pulsing waves of fiery red and incandescent orange. Every individual, every weapon, every stone on the floor seemed to vibrate, surrounded by a burning glow, as if the underlying heat of reality itself suddenly surfaced.

Then, in a fleeting instant, something deeper occurred. What she saw overlapped with another vision, that of the Elemental. Her perspective stretched, fractured, and she found herself seeing two worlds at once. She could still see the hall of the fortress, its occupants frozen in unbearable tension, their wide eyes fixed on her and the titanic creature rising from its lava lake. But simultaneously, she perceived the volcanic pit below, its breath filling the air with a cavernous rumble, the lava lakes swirling like fiery storms.

In this other world, she glimpsed War, rising with fierce determination. The creatures he had fought until then lay scattered around him, their bodies twisted and smoking, grotesque remnants of the battle. The intense heat of the place would have annihilated any mortal, but War moved forward. His heavy sword carved a line in the blackened dust, each step bringing him closer to the flame creature towering above him.

Aisling felt a shiver run down her spine, a jolt that was nothing human. Her consciousness, bound to that of the Elemental, was filled with a savage exultation. She felt the creature’s raw excitement, its thirst for destruction, and her own anger merged with that devastating energy.

A smile spread across her lips, but it was more of a grimace, a flash of invisible fangs, an expression that sent shivers down the spines of both angels and demons in the hall. Raguel and some of his entourage seemed to understand what was happening and hurriedly took flight, leaving the rest of the assembly frozen in place. Oh, how she relished the fact that finally, they feared her. What a sweet revenge.

Then, everything shifted.

And she saw red. Fire red.

The world exploded in flames in her mind. The silhouettes of the angels and demons vanished, replaced by bursts of blazing light. The pulses of magma, the fury of boiling lava, the deep rumble of cracking rock—these sensations flooded her senses. The roar of the elemental echoed through her, a triumphant shout, a promise of destruction.

“Burn it all.”

The smell of smoke… and blood.

Aisling felt like she was emerging from a restless and violent sleep. Her entire body burned and pulsed, her muscles stiff and aching. She couldn’t understand where she was. Her clearest memories went back to that moment she had had with Nimue at the edge of the crater, but… something had happened after that, hadn’t it? The more she tried to remember, the thicker the fog in her mind became, like trying to think with a fever.

Images flashed intermittently before her eyes. A volcanic pit. A familiar figure holding an immense sword. Strikes aimed at her.

She was walking into a red, sticky mire, dense like clay, but oozing with an unhealthy, almost living crimson glow. A suffocating heat pressed down on her from within. Her throat burned, and she struggled to breathe. Her eyes stung, irritated and incapable of producing even a single tear. The intolerable physical pain compounded with the boiling emotion rising within her: a pure, wild, uncontrollable rage.

Yes, she was angry, but she couldn’t remember why. And such fury didn’t feel like her. Yet Aisling clenched her teeth, feeling the tension build in her jaw to the point where she wanted to bite, to tear. She had a mission, an essential task… No, not the seed. Something else, something more urgent.

The Elemental… she had to free it!

Then they would burn this world. They would all pay.

What? No! That’s wrong! Why was she thinking such a thing? Why did the ground feel so strange under her feet? Why did she feel so foreign in her own body, as though there was something unpleasant on her? She looked down, and her heart skipped a beat: blood, shredded flesh, organs reduced to mush, bodies rendered in a terrible, unrecognizable state. It was then that she realized she was naked, her body covered in the same substance as the ground, like a bloody armor made of blood and flesh. She collapsed onto all fours and vomited acid bile, bent in horror and disgust.

The images kept coming. War… it was War. He was fighting something. No… he was fighting her. Why did she see him from so high up? He was annoying… She should kill him now, right? Then, she could burn the Realms at will.

WHY WAS SHE THINKING THIS?

She remembered now. Those mangled, broken, shattered bodies… they were her doing. She had done this. She raised her blood-covered hands, now horrified, and opened her mouth to scream. A woman’s voice rose, trembling with horror.

“What in Heaven’s name have you done?”

Aisling slowly lifted her head, trembling, her limbs heavy. Her vision gradually returned to normal, and the sight before her was horrifying. Uriel and several angels were flying back through the large openings surrounding the room, their movements filled with palpable shock. Among them, Nimue floated, translucent and ethereal, her hands pressed to her face, her gaze filled with silent terror.

Aisling’s eyes scanned the scene. The carnage. A grotesque, bloody mass stretched around her, encompassing the entire room. Shreds of flesh, unrecognizable pieces of broken armor, shattered bones, and dislocated organs formed a viscous carpet beneath her feet.

She tried to look away, but it was impossible. Every movement of her head, every glance, fled only to return irresistibly to that unspeakable chaos. The angels, the demons, the Watcher… they had all been annihilated. No body was whole, no figure recognizable.

A spasm shook her. She leaned forward, gripping the ground, and vomited again, an acidic liquid that burned as much as the guilt rising within her. The metallic smell of blood filled her nostrils, its bitter taste still staining her lips. She wiped her mouth with a trembling hand, but the contact of her own skin, sticky with the bloody substance, made her let out a strangled cry.

She raised her eyes, desperately seeking help, an explanation, anything to soothe the devouring panic. Her gaze met Uriel’s. The angel, usually so stoic, seemed disoriented this time. Her mouth opened and closed, as if searching for words. Around her, the other angels hesitated, some holding weapons without daring to move forward. Nimue, on the other hand, remained frozen, her light flickering.

Aisling reached out a trembling hand toward them, her eyes shining with raw, almost childlike despair.

“Please… help…” she whispered in a hoarse, almost unrecognizable voice, her words drowned in a stifled sob.

The silence of the room was broken by a roar, and a terrible voice exploded in her mind, seeming to resonate even within the stone of the walls, deep in the marrow of her bones.

“NO!”

The cry rang out like an explosion. Aisling pressed her hands to her temples, screaming in pain. The voice of the Elemental infiltrated every corner of her mind, fiery and relentless.

“You said you would free me! You are the instrument of our vengeance! Your anger called me, your thoughts have fed me!”

Visions of flames and destruction overwhelmed her mind. Burning realms, blackened skies, cities reduced to ashes. And always that voice, rumbling, tearing:

“Burn, devastate, avenge us!”

Aisling collapsed to the ground, her cry of pain blending with the rumble that echoed within her. The angels stepped back slightly, hesitant, while Uriel took a step forward, her hand outstretched, her voice desperate.

“Aisling! You have to fight! This isn’t you!”

But she could no longer hear her. The voice of the Elemental was tearing her apart from the inside, burning away every other sound, every other thought. The flames of her rage rose, threatening to consume everything that remained of her.

“This is what you ask for… Now, come to me…”

Once again, the vision of the Elemental imposed itself on her. Yes, she had to join him. And tear apart everything in her path.

She would free him… And burn the world.