El reached out and ran her hand along the bark of the gargantuan tree. It sure felt real. But she was just in the capital of Guld! Sure, it was a little backwater compared to Balacin, but it definitely didn’t have trees like that in it.

  “Take a breath and figure this out,” she told herself, and did just that.

  Then she sniffed the air. No smell of smoke. Maybe she’d just gotten out of range of the explosions?

  El turned to look back the way she’d come, and all she could do was shake her head. The city was gone. Not destroyed by the cannons, no, that would make sense. Replaced by a forest. A forest of the same huge trees at her back.

  The same trees she’d seen when she found that strange cabin, and the journal in her pack. Wait, did the journal survive? She still hadn’t finished it, and it might have some of the answers that could stop the Destroyer. Didn’t she have bigger things to worry about though?

  El looked around, trees and falling snow in every direction. How had she gotten out of the woods last time? By smacking her head on a branch hard enough to knock herself out. She had her Spark this time, which meant she also had her flame armor; a branch shouldn’t be much of a threat to her. On the other hand, that meant she had to find her own burning way out. Preferably without running into the Stormbearer. Was he somewhere in those woods with her?

  “Standing around in one place isn’t going to solve any of your problems,” she said to herself, and picked a direction with the least obstacles. Igniting the four small wings on her shoulders, she gently lifted into the air to hover inches above the snow. This would be faster than walking, and would allow her to multitask.

  El slid the pack off the small of her back, a little singed, but looked to be in one piece, and pulled the journal out. Slipping the pack back on, she opened to the last page of the journal she’d read and scanned the final line with her eyes.

  “Time to get some answers,” she said, maybe just to ease the silence of the strange forest, then glided forward and flipped the page.

  I have seen the Destroyer’s fury, wrapped in righteous ignorance. The cities reduced to rubble. The people left hopeless and helpless, if left alive at all. How many millions have fallen to the Destroyer’s armies?

  That’s right. His armies. The Destroyer himself doesn’t even need to show himself as his forces spread and conquer in his name. Why is that? Why was I tasked with stopping Him, if he doesn’t even show Himself? I didn’t understand, not for a long time.

  Wait. What? El paused, her eyes rereading that last line three times before she could finally tear them away. That can’t be right. She turned the book over in her hands, checking the cover and the spine for any sort of identification. She’d assumed this was the Stormbearer’s journal, what with the strange cabin, frozen people, and blue flames and all. Had she been wrong?

  A shiver ran down her spine as she watched the snowflakes fall everywhere except on the journal. What if she had been wrong. But not about who the book’s owner was. No, what if she’d been wrong about… everything? She needed to keep reading.

  When the Creator first found me, I was lost. Physically and spiritually. My family had been stolen by the Destroyer’s armies, my home… destroyed, and my spirit broken. I was wandering. Looking for a place to die, I think. I’d been powerless to protect those precious to me, and I hated myself for it.

  Then, there was a whisper in my ear. At first, I thought I was crazy. Who wouldn’t be, after seeing what I had? After losing what I’d lost. But the whisper didn’t go away. It didn’t let up. It told me I could still have a purpose. That I could save others like myself. Save them from the same sense of loss.

  All I had to do was become a type of destroyer myself.

  El shook her head, snow cascading off her hair. “Are you the Destroyer or not?” she asked the book. It didn’t reply.

  The Creator, that’s who whispered in my ear, led me to a forest shrouded in snow, and told me what was expected of me. What I would need to do. I will be the first to admit I was terrified by what I heard. How would I be any different than the monsters who’d taken everything from me?

  If you’re reading this, whoever you are, I bet you’re asking the same thing. I wonder, did you stop me? Or, did I win? No, that’s not a fair question.

  Of course I won.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Cocky bastard,” El muttered.

  How do I know? Easy. If I had lost, you would not be alive to read this. As the old adage goes, if a tree falls in a forest and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a sound? More importantly, in this case, if words are written, but never read, do they have meaning?

  To that I would say “no.” And, since, dear reader, you are here, these words do have meaning. And I have won. Or, perhaps, I will.

  But that is neither here nor there. Nor, I suspect, why you’re reading this. Is it some morbid curiosity? Perhaps you’re looking for a weakness? Something you could use against me. Oh, dear reader, I should warn you, the only thing you will find deeper in these pages is heartbreak. And, not mine.

  Yours.

  So, please, continue reading if you must. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.

  Now, where was I? Ah, yes, what I was asked to do. Part of me was, as I said, terrified. Another part of me thirsted for revenge on the Destroyer’s armies. On the Destroyer Himself, if I could. Was it that part of myself the Creator thought to use? To turn me into a weapon?

  Looking back… I don’t think so. But I’m skipping ahead.

  As you’ve likely surmised, I accepted.

  But, by then, the Destroyer’s armies were gone. Back across the sea from where they came, their terrible deeds already done. The entire continent, not just my town, or my country, lay in ruins. “Why had they come?” I asked the Creator. And, for a long time, I didn’t get an answer.

  Not until I crossed the sea myself, years later, with my own army, did I finally figure it out. Why did the Destroyer send His armies ahead, instead of going Himself?

  Because He couldn’t.

  Within this truth lies the greatest terror. And the greatest sorrow.

  The Destroyer is named such for a reason, though He doesn’t call Himself that, of course, nor do his zealots. They revere His name. Worship His… gifts.

  Hah. Gifts. Chains, more like it.

  I digress.

  The Destroyer sends his armies out to do His work because He is not whole. In ages past, the Destroyer and Creator did battle. So long ago, in fact, that history doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface. In that battle, the Destroyer lost, and his power was scattered to all corners of the world. The Creator, likewise, was greatly weakened, and fell into a deep slumber.

  While the Creator slept, the Destroyer plotted. His power was split, and he could barely touch the world, but he was not gone. As years turned into centuries and the Creator did not wake, the memory of the Destroyer faded from people’s minds. New civilizations replaced those lost in the war of gods.

  And the Destroyer fed those blossoming civilizations his power. Gifted them with a Spark of divinity to speed their growth. To control them.

  But, why would the Destroyer do this? What was in it for Him? Surely, fair reader, you’ve figured it out by now? Or, perhaps you haven’t, still lost in the doctrine of those who came before. If so, let me spell it out for you.

  The Destroyer needed hands to gather the scattered pieces of His power. Of His soul. To bring them all together again so that He could rise.

  “The Embers?” El whispered.

  It doesn’t end there. The Destroyer didn’t pick one civilization as his chosen, despite what His zealots say. No, he chose ALL of them. Every person. Every nation. Everything He touched believed they were His chosen emissaries. When, in reality, He was pitting them all against each other.

  Through the Spark of divinity within each of them, He massaged their emotions. Killed remorse. Stoked hate and bloodlust for those who were different. The nations would fight over the pieces of his power, growing more powerful as they were victorious, and continue to war against each other until only one remained.

  And, in that moment, He would finally win.

  What He never told His followers, though, is what He would do when He was finally whole again. No, He led them to believe He was only looking out for them. That their growth was all that mattered to Him.

  The Destroyer only wants one thing. To burn the world to ash.

  Is He evil? I don’t honestly know. I no longer believe His armies are. They are misguided. Lost, like I was. They need to be saved. From themselves.

  That is what I think the Creator saw in me. Not my thirst for revenge, but my potential for compassion.

  I cannot let my hope for salvation blind me, however. The Destroyer’s armies must be stopped. His doctrine must be eradicated. And, if need be, I will truly become a destroyer.

  He must not be allowed to rise, because if He does, the world will burn. Life will end.

  The Pyre must be stopped.

  El dropped the book into the snow below her feet with a puff. No. Just no. That had to be a lie. The Stormbearer was just trying to… trying to what?

  The Spark, the Embers, the Pyre… their whole culture was built on those things. Had been for centuries. For longer!

  Which was exactly what the Stormbearer’s journal said. But, didn’t the best lies contain a kernel of truth?

  El lowered herself just long enough to lift the book out of the snow, then hovered back into the air. Could she believe what it said?

  Could she not?

  The Church was definitely up to something, but could it really go higher than that? What if the Pyre actually was this Destroyer the book spoke of? What would that mean?

  Guld had the last Ember, and if the Firestorm captured it, the Pyre would be whole again. The Church said they needed the full power of the Pyre to fend off the storm and the blue newts. But the book said the Pyre would rise and incinerate the world.

  El’s mind flashed to General Cannon, rolling on the floor and screaming in agony as his own Spark consumed his arm.

  Get buried by a storm or cremated by her own Spark. Not great choices.

  El’s eyes locked on the journal in her hands. The book filled her vision. It was telling the truth, or at least its own version of the truth. She couldn’t allow the Pyre to become whole. Not until she knew more.

  She needed more information. She needed to…

  El paused. The snow had stopped. And the chill was gone.

  She looked up from the book and found herself hovering in the middle of the training room in Balacin.