Trial by Flame

Chapter 67

It was so cold that night he could see his breath, the dryness of the air wicking out any moisture from his skin. It wasn't unlike that day in the outskirts of Greyhaven.

He saw a figure appear in the distance much sooner than he anticipated, and thankfully so. Never had he felt more ready to face the embers inside, that shadow of a past he could no longer wait to ignite. The coals were smoking, a flame was waking up.

One ember for his mother's tears, another for his father's shouts. Two more for their corpses, for the person he'd lost when the industry grabbed hold of him. More for his found family, and the friends that he'd soon betray. Hundreds for the victims, their families, and countless more of his people's agony. All of them came back to one link, one arachnid spinning the web.

These embers smoldered for one purpose. He'd get revenge if it killed him.

Trelisti pushed himself up from the stone he'd been sitting on, a quartzlike, biege-white block like the ones making up the rest of the ruins. He wasn't sure what was more surprising: that Anansi had shown up alone, or that he'd come at all.

"So you're the one causing a stir." His voice was a drawl as he approached from the center in full sight. "I hear you only speak Common."

Trelisti studied his appearance first, confirming his identity with a tattoo on his wrist. The facial scars were easy to spot: one running through his eyebrow and another between his chin and cheek. His flat hair and tanned skin weren't the same as most of the people here—they were more akin to the southern portion of Ethforge, and if his accent was any indication, he wasn't from Te Fehr at all.

"Seems it's your native language, too," Trelisti replied with a glare, keeping his distance for now. He was still wary of the unknown secondary. "Which one are you from? Ambridge? Rith?"

"The latter," Anansi replied. He wasn't moving much, nor giving any signs of intention to fight. "Are you surprised, discovering the head of the pulse industry was born a foreigner? Or perhaps the opposite—I suppose you're one, too."

Trelisti couldn't figure out his game, find whatever spot he was trying to prod at. But a part of him wanted answers, and there seemed little harm in playing along.

"Shocked. No outlander's ever exploited my people before," Trelisti replied sarcastically, giving such a thick grimace he could practically feel it dripping from his face. "Borders don't matter to the powerful. You just beat the guy running it before you, right?"

"And him the same," he confirmed, pressing a hand to a worn column. "The cycle continues, for all of us except the first. Is that why you chose this place, Ti'au—to be like the first?"

Trelisti's confusion was easy to tell as he pondered the question, silence an unwilling answer. "It's recognizable and a good distance from Rhanu. There wasn't a better spot."

"So you aren't aware of its history." The look Anansi returned was disappointed, almost taunting. "My mistake. I only assumed, since you seem to know everything else."

Trelisti was quiet, watching him with a predator's eye. He drew his hand away from the stone, fingertips chalked with fine powder, and took a seat opposite of where he stood.

"Please, sit. Let an older man tell you a story," Anansi said, extending a flat palm towards a fallen column. "We'll get to your business afterwards, worry not."

It would be so easy to kill him right there, to vanish into the shadows and run a blade into his neck. He wouldn't even be able to put up a fight.

But that just wasn't as satisfying.

"Wise boy," said Anansi as he sat, on guard for every instant. "I suppose it's a leap to ask for the hood down?"

Trelisti's returning stillness was the only answer he'd give. Anansi sighed, muttering something about respecting his elders, then plastered on a fake smile.