TravelingDreamer
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B5—Chapter 18: A Song of Fire and Fear
🕑 Added 2025-01-04 20:48:51 +0000 UTCAfter another week of flying, we reached the next marker on the Map—this time, a ruin instead of a living city. It continued for about a kilometer, ending at the edge of a lake.
Below us, the city stretched out like a graveyard of skyscrapers—cracked giants with jagged edges stabbing the sky. Most buildings barely held together, some reduced to skeletal frames. The few still standing had lost most of their outer shells, and I couldn't help but worry they'd come crashing down on our heads if we fought too close. A few windows still clung to shards of glass, and I could almost see the rain of splinters waiting to fall.
The city looked split. The far side near the lake gleamed faintly, with less devastation and buildings with better designs and probably better bones. Towers stretched higher there, sleeker, with sharp silhouettes that screamed money. Closer to the center, rooftops sagged under the weight of debris. Rubble spilled from shattered buildings into the streets, like the city had disgorged its entrails.
Patches of green poked through the wreckage—weeds clawing through cracks, moss covering the walls. Nature wasn't waiting to take over. It had already claimed the place, and now was moving inward to finish the job.
From this height, it looked peaceful. But I knew better. Down there, it’d be all dust, rust, and ghosts of lives long lost. And, of course, monsters, monsters, and more monsters.
The balloon swayed gently as a cool breeze tugged at the canvas, making the ropes creak softly. Below, the ruined city sprawled out in jagged lines and broken symmetry, a patchwork of collapsed rooftops and skeletal buildings leaning toward the lake. Mahya stood near the edge of the basket, one hand gripping the control gadget, her gaze scanning the distant shoreline.
“Any idea why dungeon clusters are either in cities or industrial complexes?” I asked, breaking the silence. My voice carried easily in the still air. A distant cry of a bird echoed from somewhere down below.
Al glanced up from where he was writing something. “What do you mean?” He straightened, his brow furrowing as he shifted his focus to me.
I gestured to the ruins beneath us. “I’m sure there are dungeons spread out across this world—we found that beef dungeon, and it was a stand-alone. But this is the second ruined city we’ve come across with signs of dungeons. And remember that industrial complex we flew over? The one crawling with high-level monsters?”
Al nodded slowly. “Mm. I remember.”
“So how come?” I pressed, leaning against the rim of the basket. “Why are they centralized like that?”
Mahya tapped a finger against her chin, her lips quirking into a thoughtful frown. “I have a theory,” she said after a moment, her tone measured. “But it’s just that—a theory. Nothing I’ve seen in any books, the Archive, or heard from anyone else.”
I looked at her. “Go on.”
She glanced at me, then at Al, before turning her attention back to the ruins below. “Well... think about what it takes to form a dungeon. The perfect conditions are mana vents—natural leaks of pure mana from the heart of the world—and polluted mana, right?”
I shrugged. “If you say so.”
She shot me a playful glare, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. “You’re supposed to back me up here.”
“Sure. Vents and pollution. Got it.”
“Now think about big cities. They produce pollution, right? Not just the kind you can see, like smoke and grime, which are pollution that I’m sure affects the mana. But also a different kind of pollution.”
“Mana pollution?” Al asked, his head tilting slightly.
“Exactly.” Mahya’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm, and she leaned over the railing to point at the ruins. “When people start to use mana—tapping into it for spells, skills, classes, crafting, and who knows what else—they changed it. Mana doesn’t just disappear after you use it. It’s absorbed, altered by whatever magic or process it’s run through, and then released back into the environment.”
She straightened and crossed her arms. “Think about a factory or a workshop in a city. Every spell, every enchantment, every magical device would release altered mana into the air. Over time, that mana would accumulate. It wouldn’t be pure anymore. It’d be... tainted.”
“Polluted mana,” Al muttered, tapping his pen against his notebook.
“Exactly,” Mahya said, nodding. “And over time, that polluted mana, combined with regular pollution and natural mana vents in the area, could create the perfect conditions for dungeons to form. It’s like how certain plants only grow in specific environments. The right mix of factors makes them thrive.”
I squinted at the ruins below, trying to picture it. “So cities became breeding grounds for dungeons?”
“That’s my theory,” Mahya said, her tone turning more serious. “It would explain why these places are so concentrated. They’re like mana cesspools—places where magic builds up in strange, unpredictable ways.”
I gave a low whistle. “Well, that’s comforting.”
She chuckled softly, the sound light and almost lost in the breeze. “Hey, it’s not all bad. It means we know where to look for them, right?”
“Yeah, saves us time,” I said.
The balloon landed on the lakeshore, and I opened my house on the water’s edge.
The next morning, Al and Mahya took the balloon to get a better view of the ruined city and clear it from the air. I stayed behind. They didn’t need me yet—not until it was time to use the wind to find the dungeons hidden in the ruins. I didn’t feel like doing something they could handle without me.
Rue zoomed around the lake on his jet ski, kicking up waves and barking in delight. His booming voice echoed off the cliffs. Watching him from the shore, I couldn’t help but smile. His joy was infectious, his childish excitement a bright spot in this bleak, broken world.
I sat down near the water’s edge, pulling out my guitar. It felt good to hold it again. I strummed a few notes, not playing any particular song, just letting the chords flow together while my mind drifted. The music wasn’t meant for anyone but me. It was just sound to fill the emptiness.
And there was a lot of emptiness.
Zindor weighed on me. The silence. The ruins. The devastation as far as the eye could see. This wasn’t a world in decline—it was a world long past saving that needed a full overhaul. Buildings stood hollowed out, nature creeping back in to reclaim what was left. Monsters roamed freely, filling the gaps where people used to be. It wasn’t just the landscape that felt dead. It was the air itself. Heavy. Still. Like the whole place was dying slowly.
I kept playing, the notes slow and melancholic, echoing the thoughts swirling in my head.
What are we even doing here?
Sure, the dungeons were valuable. The materials and cores we’d harvested so far had been worth the effort. But at what cost? Every world I visited left its mark on me. Some more than others. Although I didn’t visit many yet, I already felt the marks. And Zindor... Zindor was the kind of place that got under your skin. It wasn’t just the danger—it was its sheer emptiness.
I glanced toward the distance, where the balloon drifted above the ruins of the city. Should we stay? Keep pushing through this world, clearing dungeons and harvesting whatever we could? Or was it time to cut our losses and move on? This continent had a lot of Gates. Other worlds. Other possibilities. Surely, somewhere out there, there had to be a place that wasn’t a hollowed-out shell but offered the same advantages.
I sighed and leaned against the rocks, letting the guitar rest on my lap. The notes faded into silence, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I watched Rue zoom across the lake, his happy barks cutting through the silence. At least these thoughts didn’t burden him. For him, today was just another adventure, another game. And maybe I needed a bit of that mindset. Of that joy.
Still, the question lingered. Should we keep Gate-hopping here, in this bleak, desolate world? Or should we pack up and try our luck somewhere else?
I didn’t have an answer. Not yet. But the question pressed down on me harder with each passing day. I also had to admit to myself that the tight hold I had on my emotions was unhealthy. My grief after Sophie’s death and all my experiences after I discovered the Gate taught me I needed to face my emotions and process them. Otherwise, they would come spilling out of me when I least expected them.
And that was the problem. I kept an iron chokehold on my emotions, afraid of the fire inside me. Just the thought of letting them loose made me shudder. I’d almost killed a man simply because he annoyed me. That was terrifying. After the massacre in Tolarib, I did allow myself to feel—but only in a controlled way. The moment my emotions grew too intense, I clamped down on them again and went looking for the money to distract myself. I needed to process them, open the stopper, and release the pressure before it exploded.
I picked up my guitar again, strumming softly as the lyrics slowly came to me, flowing with the melody. The memories of Tolarib weighed heavy on my chest, and the only way to deal with those lingering emotions was to play them out. I thought about the hungry kids, Cloud, the fight outside the palace, and the party in the city afterward. I poured it all into the song—every emotional blow, every regret, every dark thought that clung to me.
It took me a while to notice the tears streaming down my cheeks. They fell quietly as I sang, mixing with the music. But when the final note faded into the silent air, something inside me felt lighter. The heaviness hadn’t vanished completely, but it had loosened its grip. I breathed out slowly and felt better. Still choked up but not on the verge of an explosion.
In shadows deep, where hope feels dead,
The shambles breathe whispers through the night.
Bare feet tread paths of unseen dread,
Where hunger rules what's wrong and right.
A prince lies cold, discarded on the stone,
His palace walls now steeped in red.
Yet cheers arise from every heart,
For monsters ruled, and now they're dead.
Through shadows thick and fires high,
I carry wounds no night can hide.
Two worlds collide beneath one sky,
But only truth cuts deep inside—
What price for peace? What cost for pride?
Above, the wealthy toast their fate,
With wine and music, laughter bold.
They feast on power’s broken gate,
A tale of sorrow left untold.
In slums, they grasp at fleeting peace,
Their hardened hearts now free of chains.
Yet joy brings neither true release,
Nor freedom bought through death remains.
Through shadows thick and fires high,
I carry wounds no light can hide.
Two worlds collide beneath one sky,
But only truth cuts deep inside—
What price for peace? What cost for pride?
I’m split apart, between the two,
A healer’s hands now stained with blood.
This world’s not mine to shape, renew—
I’ll leave and close the door with a silent thud.
Through shadows thick and fires high,
I carry wounds no light can hide.
Two worlds collide beneath one sky,
But only truth cuts deep inside—
What price for peace? What cost for pride?
A chasm runs deep, between joy and despair,
A world split in two, and I’m caught in the air.
Between wealth and the poor, between hope and regret,
I carry the burden I can't forget.
But only truth cuts deep inside—
What price for peace? What cost for pride?
What cost for peace?
What price for pride?
Only when the last note faded did I realize how much emotional weight I still carried from that experience. I knew I wasn’t over it—the memory of blood on my hands still haunted me. But I hadn’t realized how deeply it lingered, how much it still pulled at me beneath the surface. Suffocating my emotions was a double-edged sword.
The music helped. It gave those feelings a voice, drawing them out from where I’d buried them. It forced me to confront them, accept them for what they were, and take the first steps toward forgiving myself. Bit by bit, the heaviness lifted, leaving room to breathe again.
I slipped off my shoes and let my feet sink into the water, the cold grounding me. I didn’t try to connect with Water. Not this time. I just needed to feel it—the gentle ripples, the weightless sensation, the quiet calm it brought. As I strummed absently on the guitar, my thoughts drifted again.
Sure, I wanted to connect with Water to complete the elemental set. It made sense, logically. But it wasn’t the only reason. The truth ran deeper. My fear of Fire was tangled up in it. I’d managed to push past my fear of the flames themselves—at least enough to make a connection. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have gotten this far. But that wasn’t the whole story.
I hadn’t overcome the part that scared me the most—the fear of losing control.
I told Al I liked how Fire made me less timid and bolder, but that was only half the truth. Since Lumis, I’d kept my emotions locked up, sealed tight in a cage of steel willpower to stop myself from lashing out. From letting the fire inside me burn too hot, too wild, and burning everyone around me. It wasn’t something I consciously thought about. But whether or not I acknowledged it, the stronghold was there. Iron bars wrapped around my emotions, keeping them in check.
Maybe music will help? It did help release the pain.
It was a struggle to bring my actual feelings to the surface, to look my fears in the eye and acknowledge them, to face them in the light of day. My fear of fire wasn’t just about the flames or the searing heat—it was deeper, more insidious. It was the fear of what the fire meant. Of what it awakened in me.
Fire wasn’t just destruction. It was raw, untamed power—wild, relentless, demanding control. And that was the problem: control. Its control over me, not the other way around. I felt it in my bones, coursing through my veins like molten steel or lava. Every spark that seared my skin in the hell dungeon was an invisible mark. A reminder that I’d let the fire in. That I’d embraced it, even as it threatened to consume me. Inadvertently, I’d opened the door for it to take over.
It made me stronger, yes. More decisive, more daring. But the same fire that fueled my strength also whispered dangers in the quiet moments. It wasn’t the flames themselves I feared anymore—it was me. The part of me that resonated with that burning force. The part that wanted to let it loose, to wield it without hesitation, without limits. To burn and rage, to hurt and devour. To eliminate and erase. I walked a thin line—between control and chaos, between using the flame as a tool and letting it take over. No wonder Fire always acted like a spoiled teenager. It sensed my lack of commitment.
My real fear wasn’t the fire outside me. It was the fire within. Fire was freedom, yes. Power, vitality, life itself. But it was also hunger—a force that could consume everything—my fears, doubts, and inhibitions. And if I wasn’t careful, me.
So I strummed my guitar, letting the music carry the weight of those thoughts. Lyrics to express this fear. Drain it. Each note and word pulled a thread from that tangled knot of fear inside me.
In the depths of ash, the fire stirred,
A blazing force, untamed, unleashed.
It scorched my body, came for my soul,
On the lizards’ plains, I fought for control.
I fought the blaze, I stood my ground,
Each red lightning, a deafening sound.
But every spark that burned my skin,
Was carving the fire deep within.
With fire in my blood, I rose,
Burned through fears and silenced woes.
But the flame is wild, the flame is free,
A dangerous power inside of me.
It fuels my passion, it fans my dread,
A spark of life, a path I tread.
Hold it close, or I will fall—
Fear the day I lose it all.
I and fire became one,
Inside, I hold the power of the sun.
I feel the power, raw and true,
I pray I’m right in this pursuit.
Yet in my heart, a shadow hides,
A fear of flames that won’t subside.
For passion’s fire can light the way,
Or burn me down and make me pay.
With fire in my blood, I rose,
Burned through fears and silenced woes.
But the flame is wild, the flame is free,
A dangerous power inside of me.
It fuels my passion, it fans my dread,
A spark of life, a path I tread.
Hold it close, or I will fall—
Fear the day I lose it all.
It gives me strength, it makes me bold,
But fire’s hunger takes a toll.
A light that saves, a blaze that blinds,
A raging storm inside my mind.
In the end, it’s mine to steer,
A burning heart, a whispered fear.
The flame within, my strength, my guide—
And the fear of letting it burn too wild.
I have to face my fear head-on.
I set the guitar down gently on the rocks. On the lake, Rue zoomed back and forth on his jet ski, kicking up sprays of water that shimmered under the midday sun. The world seemed calm on the surface—too calm for what was stirring inside me. I closed my eyes and let out a long breath, the tension in my chest coiling tighter with every heartbeat.
Enough!
I spread my mana sense around me and released my mana to fill it, wrapping my body in a cocoon of energy that clung to me like a second skin. It enveloped every part of me, forming a protective capsule that shimmered in the air. With deliberate focus, I began to paint the cocoon with the aspect of fire. At first, it was subtle—just a flicker of heat along my fingertips, a warm breath against my skin. But I needed more.
To deal with the fear still lingering inside me, I let the words come, writing lyrics on the fly and singing them softly as I worked. Each note carried a piece of that fear away, helping me cope as the fire grew around me. I infused my voice with mana, letting my Bard class bolster my resolve and give me courage. The melody weaved through the mana like a lifeline.
I poured more mana into the capsule, thickening and shaping it until it fully encased me. The heat intensified, the fire simmering just below my skin, waiting to ignite. The lyrics helped steady me, grounding me as I stood at the edge of control, ready to confront the flames head-on.
I let myself become an Inferno
Through the fiery gates of hell, I tread,
Where shadows writhe and embers spread,
Angels falter, their wings ablaze,
Yet I press on, my spirit unfazed.
The heat rose steadily, sweat beading on my face and body as the air around me shimmered. But this wasn’t enough. I needed to push further—to go beyond the edge of comfort and confront what lay on the other side.
I stepped toward the water, the cool lake stretching out before me. The presence of water was a safety line that could quench the fire if I lost control, but I couldn’t risk the lakeshore. I couldn’t risk burning everything around me. I needed the open sky.
With a thought, I split my mind and lifted off the ground, the wind swirling around me as I rose higher and higher until the ruined city stretched out below like a forgotten relic. The air grew thinner and cooler but didn’t reach me. The fire encased all of me, flickering and snapping like a living thing. It craved freedom. Demanded release.
Molten rivers coil, serpentine,
Their scalding tongues lick at my spine,
No solace here, just searing strife,
Yet within this inferno, I find life.
I sang the words as they came to me, each word carrying my fear and determination. My voice echoed across the sky, infused with mana. The air vibrated with it, and the mana amplified every word, every emotion. The fire responded, flaring brighter and hotter, wrapping tighter around me until I was no longer a man with fire—I was the fire—a floating human torch in the sky.
I am fire, I am flame,
A relentless force, unclaimed,
Through agony’s forge, my spirit sworn,
Rising anew, reborn.
The inferno roared to life, flames spiraling around me in wild, chaotic tongues. I gave it free rein, releasing every ounce of fire I’d kept imprisoned inside. Flames burst outward in a furious dance, twisting and writhing in the air. The heat was suffocating, the light blinding, but I didn’t hold back. Not anymore. I unleashed red lightning into the sky, adding its power to the fire.
Lightning strikes, crimson veins,
Carving scars through seething rains,
Each pulse a battle cry, each burn a plea,
To break free from the chains that bind me.
The fire raged, but it wasn’t enough. I split my mind into three and called the wind to join the fray. It answered in a rush, whipping through the flames, feeding them, twisting them into a spiraling vortex. A fiery tornado took shape around me, swirling and crackling with raw, untamed power. I hovered at the center, my body weightless, my heart pounding in time with the rhythm of the storm.
Within the blaze, I confront my fear,
The flames whisper secrets, crystal clear,
Not an adversary, but a primal art,
With every spark, a symphony of heart.
I let it all go. Every restraint. Every shackle. Every careful control I’d clung to since Lumis. The fear of losing myself, the fear of letting my emotions spiral out and hurt others—it all melted away in the blaze. I wasn’t holding the fire back anymore. It wasn’t a tool or a weapon. I was the fire, wild and free, untamed and unbound.
I am fire, I am flame,
A relentless hymn, untamed,
Through anguish and tempest, my spirit born,
Igniting anew, reformed.
I spun through the air, the tornado swirling faster and brighter. Flames licked the sky, painting it in shades of red and gold. The wind howled, carrying embers far and wide, scattering them like fallen stars. It was destruction, chaos, and beauty, and I was the source.
Now I stand, unshackled, unbound,
A warrior forged where chaos is found,
The fire within, no longer foe,
Each step a crescendo, my strength aglow.
I lost track of time. Seconds, minutes, hours—I couldn’t tell. All I knew was the fire. It consumed me and filled every corner of my being until nothing was left but the flames and the wind, dancing together in perfect harmony.
Eventually, the fire waned. My mana reserves drained, the tornado slowed, and the flames dimmed. I hovered in the air, the last embers flickering out around me. Only the wind remained, carrying the scent of smoke and scorched air.
I am fire, I am flame,
A relentless anthem, untamed,
Through the crucible’s kiss, my purpose sworn,
From the ashes, eternally reborn.
I screamed the last line in defiance. To tell the world of my victory.
My mana was depleted. Only the regeneration kept me in the air. My body ached, and the mana channels felt strained and itchy. My skin tingled with the memory of the flames, but I didn’t care. I laughed. A wild, uncontrolled laugh that echoed across the sky. Not from madness but from freedom. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was truly free.
The emotional effect of fire still needed attention. I hadn’t dealt with that yet. But the physical fear, the fear of losing control, of the fire overtaking me—that fear was gone.
I didn’t lose myself in the flames. I found my strength in them.
Now, if only she’d stop acting like a spoiled brat, we’d get along just fine.
Comments
TravelingDreamer
Thank you
Danielle Warvel
Yes! The love the chapters with music incorporated into them so much!
