The village of Tar crouched at the forest's edge like a wounded animal, its huts of timber and thatch bent under the weight of a sullen sky. Smoke curled from chimneys that dared to burn, but no warmth touched the square today. The gallows stood tall and cruel, framed by the sagging rooftops and the wary eyes of villagers peeking from behind half-shut doors.
Joras and his son Reiner stood bound at the center of it all, their hands tied behind their backs, their feet sunk in the muddy earth. A hush had fallen over the crowd- thick, suffocating, broken only by the clinking of armor.
The soldiers, clad in silver armor, had come for them at dawn - while they slept.
They had kicked down the door, storming inside with brutal force. There was no time to react. The soldiers struck hard with the backs of their spears, knocking them down before they could even rise. Reiner had barely opened his eyes before the blow came - sharp, merciless, and final.
They never stood a chance.
Kyros and Thoram had betrayed them.
Just as Reiner had feared.
Then came Lieutenant Pontius.
He strode forward through a wall of silver-clad soldiers, his boots crunching over straw and ash. His armor gleamed like frostbitten steel, unnaturally polished, and engraved at the breast with a blazing emblem of flame—the symbol of the Flame Emperor. A heavy crimson cloak hung from his shoulders, catching the wind like blood-stained silk.
Pontius's face was sharp and commanding, short dark hair, flint-gray eyes, a mouth that smirked more often than it smiled. Cruelty had chiseled itself into the angles of his expression over many campaigns.
He halted at the gallows, eyeing the prisoners like vermin that dared to crawl into the Emperor's garden.
"I am Lieutenant Pontius, Voice of the Flame," he declared, his voice cutting across the village square. "By order of His Radiance, you are charged with high treason, rebellion, and blasphemy."
He turned to the villagers, raising his voice.
"This man....." he pointed a gloved hand at Joras,".....dared to speak against the will of the Flame Emperor. And this whelp"—he now sneered at Reiner—"claims to command the fire. Fire! A sacred gift only carried in the blood of the Emperor Himself."
Joras bared his teeth. "He does not claim. He is."
Pontius's smirk deepened, wolfish and cold. "Then the fire dies with him today."
Joras raised his head, the bruises on his face stark against his weathered skin. "The fire isn't yours to kill," he growled. "No matter how many necks you hang."
Pontius arched a brow. "Still defiant, even now?" He stepped closer, his polished boots splashing in the mud. "You speak as if your words hold weight. As if your death means something."
Joras met his eyes, unwavering. "More than your life ever will."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
Pontius's jaw tensed. "You think yourself brave? Noble? You're nothing but a failed farmer with delusions of rebellion."
"I'm a father," Joras said, voice steady. "And that boy you mock—he'll live to burn your Emperor's throne to ash."
Pontius laughed, the sound brittle and mean. "He'll die screaming before he gets the chance."
Reiner flinched at the words, his fingers tightening instinctively though the chains bit into his wrists.
Joras turned his head toward his son. "Don't listen to him. Your flame is your own. Not his. Not the Emperor's. Yours."
Pontius drew his dagger, slowly, the blade catching the gray light. He placed it beneath Joras's chin, lifting his head.
"You speak of fire, but all I see is a man soaked in fear."
Joras didn't blink. "Then you're blind. Or a coward."
Pontius's hand twitched, just slightly.
Reiner stepped forward despite the chains. "Get your hands off him!"
Pontius turned to him, the dagger still pressed to Joras's throat. "Look at the little spark," he sneered. "Still thinks he can burn."
"I will," Reiner said. His voice was quiet, but full of venom. "One day, you'll scream louder than any of us."
Pontius's smirk faltered, only for a heartbeat, but it was enough.
Joras saw it. And smiled.
"You should be afraid," Joras said, almost softly. "Because when the fire comes, it won't just burn. It will remember."
But even as the noose creaked above, something shimmered in Reiner's eyes, a flicker of heat, of defiance. The crowd didn't see it. But Pontius did. He stepped back slightly, the fire emblem on his chest catching the dim light as if responding to the boy's gaze.
For the first time that day, the wind changed.
The fire had not gone out.
It was only waiting.
The chains around Reiner's wrists bit deep into his skin, cold iron scorched by enchantments that dulled his magic. He struggled anyway, teeth clenched, veins bulging with the effort, but it was hopeless. Even if he could move, the fire he wielded barely danced from his fingertips — flickers of power he hadn't yet learned to control.
Cowards.
His mind seethed as his eyes scanned the crowd. Thoram. Kyros. The bastards who sold them out. Reiner had been right not to trust them, and now he stood in chains, bruised and bloodied beside his father — about to die in a muddy village square.
"Pigs," Joras growled, voice hoarse with fury. He spat on the ground. "The whole of you. You'll die as Empire dogs.....worthless dogs!"
His eyes swept the crowd, searching for the traitors, but they were gone. Hidden. Absent. Too gutless to watch the hanging they'd earned.
"The Flame Emperor is a fraud!" Joras bellowed, his voice thundering across the village.
Murmurs rose, but the villagers did not move. Soldiers stood in a line of polished silver, shields gleaming like mirrors of death.
From the back, a man in a dark cloak pushed through the crowd. He was tall, silent, sharp-eyed.
"What's happening?" he asked an old woman beside him.
"Traitors," she hissed. "The boy too. Said he had fire magic. Thought they could rebel."
"Hang them already!" a voice snarled from the throng.
Lieutenant Pontius stepped forward. His red cloak rippled in the breeze like blood drawn fresh.
"Treason against the Flame Emperor cannot go unpunished," he declared. "You'll die here — a quick, shitless death," he said coldly, locking eyes with Reiner.
Reiner stared back — not afraid, not pleading. Defiant.
There was something dangerous in his gaze now. Something burning.
"Your fire won't help you today," Pontius mocked.
Reiner spat square into the captain's face.
The square went silent.
Pontius froze, stunned — then slowly wiped the spittle from his cheek, his lips curling into a sadistic smile.
"Do it," he said.
The hangman nodded grimly and kicked the lever.
Joras dropped. The rope snapped taut.
Reiner watched, mouth open in a silent scream. His father kicked — once, twice, gasping for breath.
Then stillness.
Gone.
Pontius leaned in, voice a whisper of poison. "You couldn't save him. And your fire—"
He never finished the sentence.
Reiner's head snapped back. Grief tore through him like a blade. His breath came ragged, broken. Then something inside him split — a dam cracking wide open.
"I'll burn you all," he whispered, trembling.
Then louder, roaring:
"I'LL KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU!"
The rope around his neck hissed. Then — ignited.
A soldier shrieked, "He's on fire!"
The flames licked upward, devouring cloth and flesh. Reiner's body convulsed as smoke poured from his skin. His scream echoed across the square, agony and fury merged.
The gallows burst into flames. Wood cracked and splintered. Soldiers backed away in terror. Pontius's eyes widened as the impossible unfolded before him.
Reiner's skin burned off in sheets. His eyes boiled and vanished, yet his screaming didn't stop.
Beneath the melting flesh, bone gleamed red-hot. His skeleton remained upright — a figure cloaked in flame, a skull burning with hatred.
The fire that once flickered from his fingers now raged like a god reborn.
"I... will BURN you ALL!" the skeleton roared.
The voice wasn't Reiner's anymore. It was something ancient. Elemental. Wrath incarnate.
The villagers fled. The soldiers faltered. Even Captain Pontius stepped back, his smirk gone, replaced by the first flicker of fear.
The gallows turned to cinders.
And the fire had only just begun.
"Stand your ground!" Captain Pontius barked, though his voice cracked as flames danced in his reflection. "Face him! That's an order!"
But the men did not move. Their eyes were wide, sweat pouring from their brows despite the chill. The skeleton of fire stood where the gallows had once been, shrouded in smoke and fury, its flaming skull twisted in rage. It radiated pure terror, not just fire, but judgment.
Pontius turned on his soldiers. "Cowards! Insubordination is punishable by death!"
Still, no one moved.
"Then die like dogs," he hissed.
Two soldiers, shamed and panicked, charged forward with swords raised.
The flaming skeleton raised a hand.
FWOOOM.
A torrent of fire engulfed them before their blades even neared. Their screams tore through the square, echoing into the dark forest beyond.
The other soldiers broke.
They turned and ran, but the skeleton was already moving. Fast. Faster than any living thing had the right to. One by one, he ignited them, a hand raised, a trail of fire, and bodies consumed. Seven more fell screaming, flailing as they burned into ash.
A nearby house caught fire. Then another. Flames leapt across rooftops like a predator. Smoke blackened the sky. Chaos consumed Tar.
From one burning house, a man stumbled out. His entire body ablaze. His scream was short, and then silent.
Pontius watched, frozen. His hands trembled on the hilt of his sword. His legs were locked, weak. This was no rebellion. This was a curse. A demon. A god of fire reborn.
His knees buckled.
He turned to run, but his boot caught on a fallen body.
He tripped, sprawling into the mud.
The air around him grew hotter. Shadows twisted. He looked up —
And saw it coming.
The burning skeleton approached slowly, each step cracking the earth beneath it. Its skull burned brighter with every second. Smoke coiled from its jaw like breath from hell.
Pontius scrambled back, mumbling prayers to the flame gods, to the sun god, to anything.
"Please…" he begged, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Please don't…"
The skeleton stared.
It didn't blink.
It couldn't.
It wasn't human anymore.
It was vengeance in a burning crown.
"I will burn you all," the thing said.
Its voice was no longer . It was demonic, distorted, as if echoing from a furnace of souls.
Then Pontius burned.
He screamed — a high, shrieking cry of mortal terror. His armor melted into his flesh. His hands reached out once. Then curled. Then stopped.
Only smoke remained.
The skeleton stood motionless, surrounded by fire and ruin. The village was a crater of ash and screams now. People fled in all directions. Animals cried. Nothing stood untouched.
Nothing… except one man.
The man in the dark cloak.
He stood at the edge of the square, untouched by flame or fear, his eyes fixed on the inferno.
The burning skeleton turned to face him, fire trailing behind every step.
The man didn't flinch.
The skeleton drew near — ten steps… five…
But then, something faltered.
The flames dimmed.
The smoke began to thin.
The skeleton stopped and looked down at its hands.
"No… no—no!" it hissed. "Not now—"
The fire sputtered.
The heat peeled away.
The demonic glow in its skull dimmed.
"The boy is fighting me back," the creature snarled, voice cracking into desperation. "Impossible… To think a mere human could suppress me…"
Its legs gave out.
With a final shriek of fury, it collapsed, flames extinguished.
The skeleton hit the ground.
And then, slowly…
Flesh began to return.
Skin wrapped around bone. Muscle stitched itself from steam. Nerves reformed. Veins pulsed. Heartbeat.
Reiner lay naked in the dirt, steaming, unconscious — a boy again.
The stranger stepped forward.
He looked down, eyes shadowed beneath his hood.
"Well, well," he said softly, almost amused. "Look what I've found."
Without ceremony, he knelt, lifted Reiner into his arms, and turned toward the forest.
Behind him, Tar burned.
Screams echoed, fire devoured, and in the black smoke rising toward the heavens…
The Flame Emperor's justice had met something greater.