With Fire, Part I (6K)

His consciousness had returned. The fact that he could think was proof enough, but his senses had yet to follow. He still could not see or hear anything. In that dark world, all was silent, and time had become nonexistent—until pain arrived, and his vision was restored.

A stabbing sensation like needles pierced his eyeballs, drawing tears from his eyes. But the instant they appeared, they were evaporated by the heat. He suppressed the urge to cough and simply drew deep breaths. A fierce ringing in his ears erupted after the fourth breath. The piercing buzz forced a low growl from him, but he could finally see his surroundings.

He saw flickering flames and crystallized ground. Smoke drifted through the air, black as coal, obscuring the distance and the sky. He shook his head, cast aside the pain, and recalled everything. At last, he remembered who he was—and who had created this hellish scene.

He lowered his head to look at his right hand and found that its once-dark skin had vanished. Only bone remained, tangled with scraps of charred flesh. At a glance, it even resembled a malformed warhammer.

He tried to spread his fingers, to no avail. Then he tried prying them open with his left hand, but that too proved useless.

Norn Cobain raised a hand and wiped his face before beginning to consider why he had not died.

He was a child of fire, a son of Vulkan, inheriting his blood—there was no doubt about that. And he was one of the Ashen Hammers, possessing greater resistance to flame than the brothers of their parent Chapter, as well as the ability to call forth Dragonfire.

Even so, it was strange that he had not been reduced to ash.

But this was not the time to think.