The sky was stained crimson as though the heavens themselves mourned what now unfolded on the land below. The wildfire devours everything — trees snap like twigs, leaves disintegrate into cursed ash, and the earth groans under the weight of its fury.
No one moved.
Soldiers stood frozen, their blades trembling in hands calloused by war but unprepared for this. Werewolves in human form, usually fierce and proud, stared in speechless dread. Their sharpened senses flinched at the feral crackling of the inferno, at the overwhelming stench of burning earth. Mouths opened but no words came. The heat kissed their skin with cruelty.
Siera’s breath caught in her throat. Her lips parted, her eyes wide as the horror unfurled before her.
"If this isn’t stopped here," she whispered, barely audible, "it will consume all of Hwon. This isn’t war. This is annihilation."
She took a sharp step forward, her voice slicing through the stunned silence.
"Dig into the ground! Bring water! Break the fire’s path!" Her voice, though hoarse from smoke, carried iron. "If we don’t stop it, it will erase every living soul from this land. Human or werewolf — it doesn’t matter. If we want to survive, we must fight it. Together."
Heads turned. Eyes widened. There was disbelief — and then tension. The soldiers moved first, startled into action by Siera's command. But the werewolves remained still, their expressions conflicted. Some clenched their fists, others looked to Lycaon with uncertainty, caught between centuries of fury and the pull of a truth they could not ignore. Their bodies tensed — not from resistance, but hesitation. They wanted to move. They wanted to follow. But they waited.
Gwi stepped beside her, his voice thunderous. "All units! Follow her lead! This land is our home — protect it!"
He turned toward the towering flames, shouting into the blaze, "Lycaon! If there’s anything left of you — anything worth saving — stop this madness! Stop this wildfire! And stop your revenge!"
From the smoke and fire, Lycaon’s shadow emerged, his once-vicious eyes now dim with shock at the devastation he’d helped unleash. Behind him, his kin hesitated.
"You heard them," Lycaon growled to his werewolves. "Stop this wildfire."
Lycaon’s claws curled at his sides. He had wanted them to suffer — but not like this. Not… this silence.
They blinked at him, confused and torn, caught between their thirst for revenge and the stark reality before them. Though doubt clouded their hearts, they hesitated no longer. Even Lyn, silent and unsure but burdened with conflicted loyalty, slowly nodded and turned to join the desperate effort to stop the flames, suppressing the urge for vengeance in favor of survival.
But Siera stood still, watching the fire.
She knew. This blaze — it was no ordinary fire, unnatural in its hunger and rage. No amount of water, no line of trenches, could tame this inferno. It was as if the fire itself fought back, a living force that sought to consume everything without mercy or reason.
She took a slow, deliberate step forward into the swirling heat and choking smoke, her figure barely visible through the dancing flames. The fire seemed to recoil at her courage, yet it roared louder, daring her to confront its wrath alone.
"Siera!" Gwi’s voice cracked. He ran after her, reaching — but a surge of fire leapt up like a demon, a furious wave of heat dividing them. He stumbled back, horror etched on his face.
"Do not follow me!" Siera shouted over her shoulder. "You must stay! Lead them!"
And then she was gone from his sight, swallowed by the fire.
A rush of wind parted the smoke momentarily — and Eros landed beside her.
He had wrapped the wind around himself like a shield, and as he reached her, he instinctively formed a protective dome around them both with his own energy.
Gwi saw the flicker of silver and white from afar, his chest tightening. As always, Eros was at her side a powerful force protecting her amidst the chaos. He should have felt the familiar pang of jealousy. But all he felt now — was relief. 
He turned back, jaw tight. "Dig faster! Keep the lines clear! Don’t let the flames jump the trenches!"
The soldiers and werewolves sprang into frantic motion, their war-hardened hands grasping whatever tools they could find. Helmets were torn off and filled with water, passed rapidly from one pair of hands to the next like precious lifelines. Some wrapped cloth around their faces beneath their helmets to shield against the choking smoke, while others used their armor plates to scrape and beat down burning branches that threatened to leap across the trenches. The clang of metal mixed with the desperate shouts as swords were hastily transformed into makeshift digging tools, their sharp edges carving furrows in the parched earth.
The werewolves, muscles rippling beneath torn battle garb, used their claws with practiced ferocity, clawing into the soil with raw strength. They tore off pieces of leather straps and belts, fashioning them into slings to hurl water-soaked dirt onto the flames. Faces streaked with sweat and soot, they moved with an uneasy urgency, their expressions betraying the conflict between lingering doubts and a primal will to protect the land.
Every breath was a battle against the searing heat and thick smoke. The ground beneath their feet trembled as the wildfire’s roar grew louder, but their collective resolve forged a fragile barrier—a trench of scorched earth and soaked soil, their only hope against the ravenous inferno.
The wildfire devours everything mercilessly—trees snap like twigs and collapse into blazing pillars, leaves ignite instantly and melt into drifting ash that falls like cursed snow. The earth groans under the searing heat, grass and underbrush turning to blackened cinders within seconds. The air is thick with smoke, choking, and heavy with the acrid scent of burning wood and scorched soil. Flames leap hungrily to new fuel, the wildfire’s roar a deafening, relentless beast.
Inside the blaze, Siera coughed violently, every breath scalding her lungs. Eros reached for her arm. He had wrapped the wind around himself like a shield, the air bending to his will.
"You don’t have the power to control fire, Siera! What’s the plan now?"
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she knelt, palm touching the scorched earth.
She closed her eyes.
She thought of Gwi, of Woon, of Key and Ryu, of Catelyn and Thierry. Of the people — all of them — fighting outside these flames.
She thought of the life growing inside her.
She whispered into the inferno, to something older than time itself:
“I once craved power. Now, I beg only for the strength to protect them. I do not seek dominion over flame — only a way to shield those I love. Take what you will — my breath, my blood. Just give me this one chance to save them.”
Something shifted. Inside her. But it was subtle at first — barely a whisper, a faint warmth like embers beneath cold ashes. She opened her eyes, but the flames still raged, wild and untamed.
Desperately, she pleaded inwardly, her voice trembling, begging the fire spirit to hear her cries, to grant her the strength she needed. The inferno did not respond at once. It seemed to mock her, its roar growing louder, as if daring her to try.
The flame near her hand quivered — not in threat, but in recognition.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the warmth grew stronger, flickering like the hesitant heartbeat of a newborn flame.
A warmth unfamiliar and ancient stirred in her core. Her fingertips sparked.
The fire responded.
Not perfectly. Not gracefully.
But it bent — flickered back. Siera raised her hand, and the flames nearest them recoiled slightly, as if unsure.
Eros stared, sweat beading his brow as he fought to keep the wild shield intact, his muscles trembling under the immense strain of holding back the furious blaze. "You… you’re doing it."
It’s not enough," she whispered, voice barely steady as tremors of exhaustion shook her frame. Sweat slicked her skin, and the weight of the fire’s resistance pressed down like a storm she could barely hold at bay. Eros’s shield around them flickered wildly, his own struggle to maintain it evident in every strained breath and tightening muscle.
The power was raw, heavy. It coursed through her veins like molten gold, but her body was worn. Her limbs shook. Her skin gleamed with sweat, her breathing grew shallow.
"Siera," Eros said urgently. "You’re going to collapse. We need to pull back."
He’d faced monsters before. Gods. Kings. But never fire this wild — never while Siera stood inside it.
"No!" she snapped. "If I stop now, it will go wild again. I have to hold it. I have to—"
The fire screamed like a living beast, a wild, unrelenting force that pressed in on her from every side. A violent gust of scorching heat slammed against her fragile control, threatening to shatter the delicate shield she had woven. The flames writhed and twisted, fighting back with a fury that seemed almost sentient, pushing her to the brink of collapse. Meanwhile, Eros’s shield flickered erratically, his muscles taut and face strained, struggling to hold back the chaotic winds and embers that threatened to consume them both.
Her eyes blurred. Her knees buckled. Eros reached to steady her.
The world spun — colors blurred, sounds dulled. Her body screamed. I can’t…
Then—
Through the wall of smoke and flame, a voice broke—thin, cracking—“Sister!”
Siera froze. The sound barely pierced the roar of fire, but it carried a force that gripped her bones. She turned sharply, though nothing was visible yet beyond the blaze. Still, something in her reacted—a pulse, foreign and ancient, stirred beneath her skin.
A warmth not her own pulsed through the ground beneath her knees — a familiar fire, not hers. Not Eros’s.
_______________
The air trembled with the roar of the wildfire, thick smoke swallowing the horizon and tinting the sky a fierce, unyielding crimson. Through the choking haze, two figures stumbled into the scorched field — Woon and Ryu, still struggling to steady themselves from the ordeal of dimensional travel. Their breaths came ragged, lungs burning not just from exhaustion but from the unforgiving heat pressing down on them.
As their eyes adjusted, the horrifying scene unfolded before them: soldiers and werewolves, side by side, their faces streaked with soot and sweat, desperately battling the inferno that clawed its way across the land. Flames devoured trees and earth alike, creeping like a living nightmare toward the heart of the battlefield.
Woon’s gaze locked onto the center of the chaos. There, encircled by wild flames that twisted and lunged like furious beasts, stood Siera, her fragile form shielded by a swirling dome of fire and wind — and beside her, Eros, unwavering and steady, his eyes locked on the threatening blaze.
“Sister!” Woon’s voice tore through the smoke as he sprinted forward, heart pounding with desperate urgency. With every step, he summoned his fire control — not to burn, but to protect himself, weaving a shield of flickering flame that danced and shielded him from the searing heat. His fire—wild, desperate—met the edges of hers like a resonance striking an unlit match. Though she had never commanded flame, though her blood had remained dormant her entire life, something shifted. The fire did not consume her.
It knew her.
A flicker sparked at her fingertips, not summoned but received, like the answer to a question her body never knew it had been asking. Not memory—no. It was inheritance. Not from childhood, not from training, but from blood and something deeper. A gift sealed long ago, now shaken open by fear, rage, and the echo of Woon’s power.
Siera’s lips parted. Her hands lifted, trembling. The fire hesitated—then swirled toward her, bending like a river meeting the sea.
The moment his presence touched the barrier around Siera, the fragile dome pulsed stronger, as if fed by his strength and will. Eros exhaled sharply, a flicker of relief washing over his features. Together, the three formed an unyielding front against the wildfire’s fury.
Nearby, Ryu charged to Gwi’s side, his usual bright grin a stark contrast to the grim battlefield. “Commander! I’m here now!” he called out, breathless but unbroken.
Gwi turned, his eyes tired but fierce, and offered a small, weary smile. “Welcome home, my vice commander.”
The ground trembled beneath their feet. The battle was far from over, but with allies reunited and hope ignited, the flames of despair were met with an unyielding fire of resolve.
As the flames coiled and cracked around them, something shifted within the blaze — a resonance, deep and ancient, that vibrated through Siera’s bones. Her knees pressed against the scorched earth, her hand trembling where it touched the ground. The power coursing through her felt unbearable, too vast for a mortal body. And yet… she remained.
Then she heard it — not with her ears, but within her soul.
A voice, like wind through a furnace, roared and wept all at once. It wasn’t words at first, but emotion. Fury. Grief. Disappointment. A deep, smoldering pain that went beyond flame — it was the voice of Hwon itself.
Her lips parted, her breath shaking. “The fire spirit is… angry…”
Tears welled in her eyes as the sensation deepened. She saw visions — not with sight, but in flashes within her spirit. Ancient times, when humans and werewolves stood side by side, protectors of the same land. She saw harmony, broken by betrayal. War. Fear. Pride. And finally — blood spilled by kin once joined in unity.
The fire had not ignited merely by chance.
It was judgment.
“You were meant to be one,” the voice echoed within her. “Two roots of the same tree. Now you poison the soil with hatred. You kill your own reflection.”
Siera choked on a sob. “I didn’t know… I didn’t see it…”
The spirit’s fury crackled, not at her — but at everything. At the centuries of misunderstanding. At the repeated sins. The fire was not born of cruelty, but of sorrow too great to hold.
“Why should I protect what destroys itself?”
Siera bowed lower, her tears hissing as they struck the heated ground. “Because we can change,” she whispered. “I swear to you… we will. I’ll fight for that future. Just let me try.”
The fire paused — a flicker of hesitation — and in that heartbeat, the roaring edge of the flames stilled ever so slightly, as if listening.
Behind her, Eros felt the weight of the moment and steadied the wind shield, sweat dripping from his brow as he fought to keep the barrier alive. And from the edge of the flame, Woon’s arrival brought a surge of balance to the magic, his fire harmonizing, not challenging.
The fire spirit didn’t answer with words, but with a moment of silence. One heartbeat of peace.
And Siera wept harder — not from fear, but from the agony the land itself  had carried for generations.