Svert walked among the charred remains of Finás. The crash of waves and the call of gulls were the only sounds to be heard.
‘I did what they said, they should let him go now.’ he thought. He was calm, almost perfectly so. His mind still, for the first time in a long time. Walking deliberately toward the gate, each step measured and calm. But, he could feel the effects of his power beginning to drain his soul. Much like Geomancers, a Pyromancer’s power came from himself, not from life force, but from their souls.
Geomancers have a life force which amounts to longevity if they don’t use their powers. Pyromancers have a soul several times larger than any other mortal race. The more they use their power, the more their soul is burned away. If one does not use his power, he can be the kindest, most loving person in the world. If he over uses it, he becomes cruel, evil, and vindictive until his death.
The connection between him and Dra was beginning to become strained from his side, his freedom and security was becoming less of a concern to Svert. As much as he stopped caring about Dra, he hated Sovos that much more. Yet, for all his boasting, Svert was still afraid.
He was worried he would become ‘fire drunk’ as Pyromancers called it. Knowing that his power was slowly consuming him, and yet wanting to use them more than eating, sleeping, and all else.
‘I pray to the gods that you will defeat Zoldák. Then, and only then will they let me come after you.’
As he continued to walk toward the gate, he kicked aside the charred corpse of a young girl, still clutching a doll to her chest.
An emotion bubbled up from deep inside him. Was it pity? Shame? Regret? He couldn’t identify it, but it was still there. “It’s a shame you got caught up in this girl. May you find peace in the afterlife.” He said as a kind of elegy for her.
He walked away from the grisly scene, thinking, ‘Now, to see if they will let him go or not.’