The Madman's Guide to Miracles

Aldren didn’t panic. He just laughed a dry, wet chuckle that sounded like coughing up phlegm.

"Look at you," he mocked, holding up one pale, fluid-stained hand. "Breathing through broken ribs, swinging a sword you can barely lift. You really think a little spark makes you a hero?"

Aurelia lunged anyway, swinging with everything she had left.

The flaming broadsword slammed right into an invisible wall of pressure in front of his face. The impact rattled her arms clear up to her shoulders, throwing a wave of heat right back into her face. Her boots slipped on the bloody stone, and she almost went down, her lungs burning just trying to catch a breath.

"Pitiful," Aldren spat, stepping toward her. He flicked his wrist.

An invisible force smashed straight into her jaw. Aurelia spun sideways, crashing hard against the slate altar. The sword clattered out of her hand, the flames dying down to a dull flicker. She hit the floor, spitting out a mouthful of blood and gasping for air that wouldn’t come.

"You nobles are all the same," Aldren said, his voice dripping with spite as he reached down to pick up his ritual dagger. "You think having a big name means the world owes you a happy ending. Your brothers cried like babies when the swords hit them, you know. Just like you’re about to."

"Shut... up," Aurelia wheezed.

She dragged herself up on one knee, her shoulder scraping against the slate. Through the haze in her eyes, she looked at Aseren. He was still locked on the table, jaw clenched so tight his teeth were cracking, the double pulse—THUMP-CLANG, THUMP-CLANG—shaking the whole damn room.

He was dying, but he was still breathing. Still fighting inside his own head.

"I spent my whole life waiting for someone to save me," she muttered, wiping blood off her mouth with her sleeve. Her hand reached out, fingers closing around the sword’s leather wrap again. "My dad. My brothers. Richard."

She stood up, her knees shaking so badly she could barely balance.

"I’m done waiting."

The fire on the blade changed. It stopped flaring out into wild sparks and sucked inward, wrapping tight around the steel until the iron turned glowing yellow.

Aldren stopped laughing. His eyes narrowed. "You stupid little—"

Aurelia didn’t give him time to finish. She stepped right into his space, completely ignoring the agonizing stab in her side, and drove the point straight at his chest.

The blade hit his barrier with a screeching sound like metal grinding on metal. White sparks rained down between them.

"Get out of my way!" Aldren snarled, stabbing his dagger straight into her shoulder.

Pain exploded down her left arm, but Aurelia didn’t back off. She leaned right into the blade, using the pain to keep her feet planted, and shoved her entire body weight forward.

The barrier cracked.

The yellow-hot steel punched straight through Aldren’s chest, tearing through his robes and coming out his back in a spray of black fluid.

The priest choked, his eyes wide as he stared down at the glowing metal in his ribs. He dropped his dagger, hands clawing at the blade, his mouth working silently.

Aurelia pulled her head close to his, her face covered in sweat and soot, her eyes burning.

"Go to hell," she grunted, and twisted the hilt hard.

Fire burst out from inside him. Aldren didn’t even get a scream out before his chest caved in and he collapsed into a heap of hot ash on the floor.

Aldren didn’t panic. He just watched her, his pale eyes flat as dark fluid trickled from his mouth.

"Look at you," he said. "Breathing through broken ribs. Swinging a sword you can barely hold. You think this is malice, girl? You think I care about your little house?"

Aurelia lunged, driving the flaming broadsword at his neck.

The blade hit an invisible wall of force with a heavy thud, throwing a wave of heat back into her face. Her boots skidded on the slick stone, her broken ribs grinding together hard.

"My family has kept watch in this valley for generations," Aldren said, taking a step forward. "When the gods buried that Elder Beast’s heart deep beneath the earth, they didn’t kill it. Its lingering decay bled upward, poisoning the soil, the water, the minds of men. That is what you call the blight."

He flicked his wrist. An invisible weight smashed square into Aurelia’s jaw.

She spun sideways, crashing hard against the slate altar. The sword clattered out of her grip, its flames sputtering against the wet floor. She hit the stone, spitting blood and gasping for air.

"Do you know how I survived four centuries to see this through?" Aldren said, reaching into his robes. "I conceived children. Decades apart, line after line. I raised them, taught them our duty, and when this body grew old, I carved my soul out and carved it into theirs. I stole their skin, their youth, their eyes—all to be alive in the right era, waiting for the right vessel."

He picked up his ritual dagger and looked at Aseren, whose body thrashed on the slate.

"I am not doing this out of cruelty," Aldren whispered. "I sacrificed my own flesh and blood because my duty demands it. The gods left their trash in our soil, and someone has to hold the broom."

"Shut up," Aurelia wheezed.

She dragged herself up on one knee. Through the red haze in her eyes, she stared at Aseren. His jaw was locked tight, the double pulse—THUMP-CLANG, THUMP-CLANG—cracking the floor. He was still fighting.

"You’re a monster," Aurelia rasped, wiping blood off her chin. Her fingers wrapped back around the sword’s leather grip. "Stealing your own children’s lives... and calling it a duty."

She stood up, her legs shaking.

"I’m done listening to old men justify their rot."

The fire on her blade sucked inward, wrapping tight around the steel until the iron turned glowing yellow. The temperature in the vault dropped as her Affinity pulled the heat directly into the sword.

Aldren stopped, his eyes narrowing. "You’ll burn your own soul out—"

Aurelia didn’t let him finish. She stepped straight into his space and drove the point at his chest.

The blade hit his barrier with a harsh screech. Sparks rained down between them.

"You stupid girl—" Aldren growled, stepping in and driving his ritual dagger deep into her left shoulder.

Pain exploded down her arm, but Aurelia leaned right into the blade, using it to anchor herself, and shoved her entire body weight forward.

CRACK.

The barrier shattered.

The yellow-hot steel punched straight through Aldren’s chest, bursting out his back in a spray of boiling black fluid.

The priest choked, his eyes wide as he stared at the iron in his ribs. He dropped his dagger, hands clawing uselessly at the metal.

"Die and stay dead this time," Aurelia grunted, her face inches from his.

She twisted the hilt hard.

White-hot fire erupted from the inside of his torso. Aldren didn’t scream; he just let out a wet gasp as his body charred and collapsed into a heap of smoldering dust on the floor.

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