The drums didn't stop.
They never did when the flame danced.Not for mourning.Not for war.Not for gods.
Tarn stood at the edge of the highstone cliff.Red hair wild. Skin painted in stripes of coal and blood.Chest bare. Lifefire flickering around his body.Alive. Wild. Glowing like embers under skin.
He looked down.His people—the Ishvalans—stood ready.Spears. Axes. Blades made from bone and stone.No iron. No gold.Only what the earth gave.
And that was enough.
The sky above rumbled.The clouds weren't clouds anymore.
They were doors.
And they opened.
Golden light spilled down. Like liquid sun.But it was cold.Wrong.Unnatural.
Floating warships shaped like crescents.Sky towers carved from glowing crystal.And the ones who rode them—
The Vanyrians.
Sky people."Gods."No wings. No halos.Just power. And the arrogance to use it.
One landed.
Didn't touch the dirt. Hovered.Feet never kissed the land.Pale face. Long silver hair. Robes that shimmered like mist and lightning.
His voice echoed without shouting.
"This island has been claimed by order of King Azrael, Sovereign of the Sky. Lay down your weapons and live."
Tarn stepped forward.Lifefire swirled around his fists like smoke turning into flame.His teeth bared.
"We don't kneel to stars.We kneel to the fire.And the fire is hungry."
He pointed his spear.
"Come take it. If you dare."
The god blinked.
Then the sky bled.
Dozens of Vanyrians descended.They didn't fall. They floated.Weapons of light in hand.Eyes cold. Empty.No hate. No emotion.Just control.
The Ishvalans didn't wait.
A roar went up—deep and wild.Like beasts freed from cages.
Lifefire ignited across the battlefield.Red. Orange. Blue for the elders.The air became hot. Heavy. Thick with heat and death.
The ground cracked under their feet as the clash began.
Tarn charged.
He wasn't the strongest.He wasn't the fastest.
But he burned brighter than any of them.
He weaved between blasts of sky-energy.Dodged spears made of sunlight.His own weapon shattered gods like stone under hammer.
Every kill made his Lifefire grow.
But the gods kept coming.
They didn't tire.They didn't breathe heavy.They didn't bleed.
One Ishvalan after another fell.Burning. Screaming.Some kept fighting even without limbs.Some laughed as they died.They were all warriors.
The earth shook.
Tarn looked up.
A shadow covered the island.Something massive—blocking the sun.
A sky chain.Thick as a mountain. Glowing with runes.Descending from above, wrapping around the island like a serpent.
"They're not just invading…" Tarn muttered."They're stealing it."
The chain pulled.Stone cracked.Trees uprooted.Lakes spilled over cliffs.
The island groaned.The sky screamed.
And slowly… the land began to rise.
Final stand.
Only a few Ishvalans left.The last warriors circled Tarn.Burned. Bleeding. But standing.
The god leading the invasion hovered above them.
Tall.Crowned.Blue markings over silver skin.
The Sky-King Azrael.
"Your flame ends here, mortal."
Tarn's reply?
A deep breath.
Then he roared—so loud, the fire cracked open around him.Lifefire erupted like a volcano.The others followed, bursting into flame—one final blaze.
They all charged. Together.
Azrael raised one hand.
A divine seal appeared above them.Circular. Glowing. Crushing.
Tarn leapt through it—body on fire, hair turning white-hot.He pierced Azrael's chest. For a second.
Just one.
Azrael's eyes widened. He bled.
Then he erased Tarn with a wave of his hand.
Light exploded.Stone shattered.Fire screamed.
Tarn fell.
His body turned to ash before he hit the ground.
The island rose higher.
And the Ishvalans were gone.
But deep, somewhere in the sky...
A new star flickered into life.A red-haired figure, floating in a place unfamiliar.His eyes opened.
Red.
Still burning.
"...Not done yet."