The Flames before Rebirth (Kaylea)

Author’s Note: This story is a piece for the transition of the character Kaylea, who belongs to my husband.

Kaylea comes from a game ran by our best friend, who no longer runs and has blocked access to the gaming history as he moves onto other projects. The following characters are not Weaver’s, but Narrator’s (listed in order of appearance or mention): Mason “Knuckles” McDaniels, Cassie McDaniels, Tal Kadorin, and Brother Jordan Light. Cania the temple thief is a bit of disputed territory, as he is a part of Kaylea’s history but was played by Narrator. Past events referenced in this piece are spoilers for the game Phoenix City Chronicles.

The Flames before Rebirth was written at the behest of Kaylea’s player as a history of how she moved from the world of Narrator’s games to Weaver’s games. I am not claiming creative credit of Narrator’s games by doing so.

This story was written to the song Tormented Heart by hania. hania is a musician off of the website Newgrounds and her work is, to the best of my knowledge, still free to listen and download. Be sure to not capitalize the name when looking for her.

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The Flames before Rebirth
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“I will leave.”

The words were out before Kaylea could even acknowledge the thought of them, let alone contemplate their meaning. Cassie winced as she walked by the quarreling couple on her way to deliver an order of food. Knuckles froze along with Kaylea, his hand still resting on the tap in preparation for building the next layer of the pint he had been constructing prior to her announcement. Kaylea gripped the bar with both her hands and forced herself to meet his startled brown eyes.

In all their fights and arguments--and they were many as both of them were stubborn and quick to temper--in all of them, Kaylea had never, not once in their year together, threatened to end things. They may be volatile together, but their love was strong as it was when she had braved Hell itself to save him. She couldn’t imagine a life without him. That was why she had agreed to marry him when he had asked.

Yet here they were, at the breaking point--the line that once crossed could never be redrawn.

They had been arguing almost nonstop since the predawn hour when Kaylea had bolted upright in their shared bed after a terrifying nightmare. The images of Knuckles dying at the hands of a swordsman from the Knights of Omerta, who was sent after Knuckles had disgraced their champion again, still played at the edges of her mind. It wasn’t an unreasonable action for the Knights to take. They had burned the Golden Apple to the ground before for that reason when Knuckles was fifteen. His and Cassie’s mother had been in the tavern at the time. That had been his warning to not mess with the Knights’ business.

Kaylea suppressed a shiver as the memory of her nightmare edged with prophetic energy threatened to push to the forefront of her mind. She knew--knew--that this time the Knights would make an example of him and there would be nothing any of their circle of friends could do about it. If Knuckles fought in the tournament, he would win. If he won, the Knights would remove him without a second thought. It would be brutal and it would be public. All the better to make an example of him, so that the message didn’t need to be repeated.

She couldn’t watch that again. She couldn’t watch as he was killed with such speed and skill that there was literally nothing she could do to save him. But she could stop the situation from occurring, if only he would listen to her. If he didn’t fight, he wouldn’t die. And what was he fighting for anyway? A bit of glory and bragging rights? The title of champion was empty when one considered that they had stopped a godlike madman from destroying all of Norwai in his quest for power. If she had to watch him throw his life away, it would crush her.

It occurred to her then that she had meant all three syllables of what she had said. She would leave. She loved him. Fires, she was going to marry the man. Of course, she loved him. But if he was determined to destroy himself, there was little she could do to stop him…and watching would destroy her.

She raised her peridot eyes from the bar where their gaze had fallen to meet his. Kaylea could see his fear had faded her long silence. Disbelief had begun to take its place. Slowly, but smoothly, a half grin blossomed on his still-boyish face.

“We both know that you don’t mean that,” Knuckles announced. His shoulders lost their tension. He shared a humorous look with one of the patrons sitting nearby. The wink Knuckles gave the man irritated her like she was a cat that he had petted the wrong way.

“I do,” Kaylea instantly assured him. Knuckles shook his head, still smiling. He reached out with one hand to give one of the fiery locks resting against her cheek a friendly tug before turning his attention back to the taps he was managing as they had their spat. She didn’t growl, but it was a near thing. “I mean it, Mason. If you step foot in that ring, I will leave. I will not watch you destroy yourself.” Here, she faltered with a hitching breath. “I…I can’t.”

“You’re worrying about nothing, babe--“

“No,” she interrupted his useless platitude. Kaylea had her fill of that line in the last five hours. Tears threatened to choke her as she remembered the vivid smell of his spilt blood as it spread across the street. She could almost feel the breeze that had parted his bark-colored hair before smacking her in the face with the metallic scent of his lifeblood. Sternly, she swallowed the tears back. She could still feel the wetness in her eyes, however. “I have seen it. They will send another fighter to kill you when you win.”

“So what? I won, right? That means I’m the best in the city. I’ll just kill this assassin first!”

“You won’t succeed,” Kaylea replied with a calmness she didn’t feel. The panicked despair of that remembered moment swelled within her. Knuckles scoffed and looked affronted at the insinuation that there were opponents against whom he couldn’t triumph. “Oh, don’t get into one of your prissy male fits now! Yes, love, there are people stronger than you out there and they ain’t always gonna be your friend. Why borrow trouble when there is no need for it? Why is this tournament so important?”

“I need to do this,” he replied as he had several times already. “I need to do this because I want them to know that I’m strong.”

“So for the greater glory of Knuckles?”

“It’s not like that!”

“That’s how it sounds!”

“What? Do you think I can’t win? Do you doubt that I can survive?”

“You don’t,” Kaylea repeated through a tight throat. She took a shaky breath in attempt to loosen it. “Please don’t make me watch you die.” Her knuckles turned white from her grip on the bar’s edge. It was the only thing that anchored her as her head began to swirl from the stress. “I won’t,” she declared. “I won’t. I refuse. If you leave for the tournament, I’m gone. I will leave and I will go so far that you will never see me again. The choice is up to you.”

Cassie appeared then to relieve Knuckles of the two pints he had been distractingly building. The girl’s presence reminded Kaylea of their audience. The morning crowd had begun to thin in favor of the lunch crowd. Most were regulars who were used to her and Knuckles’ epic battles. A few were not, as evidence by their nervous glances toward the bar. Any embarrassment she would have felt had long since faded in the year that they had been settled in Phoenix City. Even Cassie was ignoring their fight.

“I’m going,” he answered with certainty, “and everything will be fine. You’ll see. You’re worrying for nothing.”

Kaylea didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. No words would convince him that he was not right. No argument would erase the horror of watching his death, a scene that kept replaying on the back of her eyelids. She couldn’t see it become a reality rather than a vision.

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Later, when the Golden Apple closed so that the operators could attend the tournament, Kaylea watched with an empty feeling as Knuckles wrapped his hands and psyched himself up for his participation. Knuckles bounced lightly on his feet and punched the air before shaking out his arms. Kaylea sat cross-legged on their bed, still unmade from the night. They hadn’t spoken more than exchanged service orders since he had declared his intention to compete despite her ultimatum. Knuckles hadn’t seemed to have noticed the strained silence.

“Well, I’m off,” he announced finally, only to be met with silence. He looked at her and attempted to give her that infectious grin that she had fallen in love with all those months ago in Meadowbrook. Instead of making her heart race like normal, it just made the knot in her stomach twist so that she felt as green as her eyes. Knuckles hesitated, just for a moment, before he gave another lifting on his shoulders that was somewhere between a shrug and a shake. “I guess you aren’t coming to the competition then?” Kaylea gave him a blank look, too numb with pain to gather up the energy to achieve incredulous. “I guess I’ll see you afterwards then. You’re worrying for nothing. You’ll see.”

“I love you,” Kaylea whispered through lips that felt too thick. She wanted him to know that. A small part of her was hoping that the words would work where no others had. There was a moment of silence. The part wilted as the moment stretched beyond the span of a couple of heartbeats. Finally, she forced herself to remind him of what was going to happen. “But I won’t be here when you get back.”

Knuckles just shook his head before retreating through their door. Kaylea listened to his fading footsteps, silently tracking him down the stairs and through the tavern. Resolutely, she ignored the strangling realization that he had failed to return her sentiment. The quiet murmur of voices reached her. Then those, too, faded.

Kaylea didn’t cry.

She did not weep.

Kaylea just stared blankly into the fire crackling in their little hearth, her only companion in the empty tavern. The flames danced and wove upon the wood. Knuckles hadn’t banked it when he left, probably because she was staying. Or perhaps because he didn’t think of doing so--he would often forget small things like that. It was part of his charm.

It would be so easy to just forget her ultimatum, let things lie. Knuckles was already most of the way towards that end. Kaylea’s breath stuttered. Whether it was from sorrow or from anger, she couldn’t tell. It would be easy…but would it be right?

“No,” Kaylea murmured. She swallowed hard. Beneath her skin, her inner fire stirred. The ripple of that power was familiar and soothing. Even through the darkness of her past, that power had been a constant. Cania, so dimly remembered, was not nearly as comforting. His visit after their defeat of the General had been difficult for both of them. Eventually, the desert’s siren song had called the Anubian home to Gyp’zu so far to the south. But the fire had never felt the desire to leave her.

Kaylea lifted one hand and summoned a single flame. The magic responded with a deep feeling that whispered the secret of eternity in some language that she couldn’t quite remember. It was elemental and just as powerful as the love that beat in her breaking heart for Knuckles. Knuckles couldn’t understand that and so was openly dismissive of that part of her. Tal understood, as had Brother Light. She had never thought that she would ever have something in common with a couple of priests. It was especially ironic when one considered her previous profession as a temple thief.

Jordan Light was also the only other voice of dissent against Knuckles’ participation in the tournament. Nothing either Jordan or Kaylea had said had gotten more than a scoff from the street fighter cum bartender. Knuckles was hard-headed. Isn’t that what she loved about him? He would do anything for those he loved. He was always the first in the line to help. It didn’t matter the odds or the struggle. Whatever was needed, he’d do.

“Well, almost anything,” Kaylea told the stillness, only a bit bitterly. It was then that she knew her decision. She sent a blast of fire into the hearth in a bout of sudden rage. The fit of temper left her felling drained. It took all of her will to unfold herself and rise to her feet, let alone summon the energy to actually pack. Even then, she had to stop several times to wipe errant tears that threatened.

She was breaking. She could feel it. The cracks had always been there. She could see that now. But the act of ending this relationship was turning them into canyons in her soul.

Finally, Kaylea was ready to go. She stood beside the bed and surveyed the small room. Her eyes fell upon a framed picture of her and knuckles. They looked so happy in the picture. They had been so happy. The anger boiled within her, fueled by her hurt.

She snatched up the little frame and threw it into the still burning fire. The smash that resulted did little to soothe the churning magic that poppled beneath her skin. It was only through sheer willpower that Kaylea managed to calm the energy before she combusted into flames. She did so, but the struggle murdered her remaining desire to linger. As a final gesture, she removed her engagement ring and placed it upon the mantel for Knuckles to find.

“Goodbye, fire of my heart,” Kaylea murmured to the empty room. Her voice was dry and hoarse, but her eyes were full of tears she refused to shed. Not for him. At least, not yet. “I wish you well in your next life. For in this one, you are dead to me.”

Then, without another backwards glance, Kaylea was gone.

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The End of Kaylea’s Prologue
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