Chapter Text
It was a particularly dark night. The sun had long since gone to slumber, and even the moon had abandoned the sky, swallowed whole by thick, smoke-like clouds that smothered the world beneath a suffocating shroud. The lamps along the roads flickered like dying spirits, less like lanterns and more like will-o’-wisps, swallowed by the dark almost as soon as they dared exist.
These were the kinds of nights that made humans remember their place.
The doors were bolted, windows shuttered, children were hushed and gathered close to dim, wavering lights while prayers were whispered into clasped hands. They waited, as all did, for dawn to come—For it was human nature to fear the dark.
And it was human experience to fear what lived within it.
Yet, the roads were not entirely empty on this faithful night.
A child, no older than seven or eight, was stumbling blindly through the fog, his small frame trembling with each uneven step. His breaths came in shallow huffs, little clouds of panic dissolving into the cold air. His eyes, wide and glassy, darted from shadow to shadow as if expecting something to leap out at him at any moment.
“I—I just came this way…” he muttered to himself, voice breaking, though the fog seemed to swallow even that. In his small, shaking hands, he was clutching a bundle of fruits, dull and bruised little things gathered in haste.
The boy had meant to be quick, he hadn’t noticed the sky growing darker… he hadn’t noticed how the path had changed. And now… he couldn’t find his way back.
That’s when a sharp sound cut through the silence.
Clack.
The child froze.
It was the sound of a step. Crisp and deliberate. And impossibly loud in the sudden silence that seemed to have draped everything just then.
Clack.
Another step, measured and unhurried. The sound of a hard sole meeting stone, slicing through the fog as though it parted for it. Then, from within the thick grey veil, a tall figure emerged.
Draped in garments darker than the night itself, the fabric seeming to drink in what little light existed rather than reflect it. The edges of his silhouette were too sharp, too defined against the shapeless fog, as though reality itself made way for him.
As he stepped forward, more of him revealed itself—not all at once, but in pieces, like a painting being uncovered stroke by stroke. Pale skin, almost luminescent against the darkness. Fine features, carved with such unnatural perfection it was more eerie than beautiful. And the eyes—a dull and deep yellow, from which no light reflected out much like a hungry pitless abyss.
The man finally stopped a few steps away from the boy and spoke, his voice smooth and rich, almost indulgent, like velvet laid over steel.
“My, my… what is a child doing out here at such an hour?”
The boy flinched, instinctively taking a step back. Suspicion flickered through his fear, but it faltered quickly at the face of desperation of being lost. “I—I…” His lip trembled. “I can’t find my way home… I just went out to get these for my sister… she’s been sick, and—” he sniffed, wiping his nose with his sleeve, “—and Mother and Father were busy, so I thought I could help, but… it got dark and I—”
His voice cracked entirely, only sobs left in its wake. Then the man’s lips stretched into a small, polite smile.
“I see,” he said, tipping his head slightly, his dark blue hair framing his face perfectly like one of those deadly sirens meant to lure lost souls to their deaths. “A very thoughtful brother.”
And then from within his cloak, he produced a lantern. Its frame was elegant, almost ornate—crafted with delicate metalwork that twisted into subtle, intricate patterns. Within it burned a flame of an unnatural hue—a soft, vivid azure that flickered with an eerie steadiness, neither wavering nor dimming despite the oppressive fog. The light it cast was gentle, yet it cut through the darkness with uncanny clarity, pushing back the shadows as though the very night was fearful of its flames.
“Would you like me to guide you home?”
The moment the boy’s eyes landed on the lantern his fearful face twisted into that of hope.
“You… Mister, are you a Lightkeeper?”
The man just smiled. Instead of answering he turned, the lantern swaying lightly in his grasp, and began to walk.
The boy looked at the man’s back, his long blue hair tipped with white, as if someone had dipped it in ash—and hesitated. But his eyes once again flickered towards the lantern, its flame burning so brightly and lighting up the area around them. After a few seconds of hesitation, the boy hurried after him, choosing to trust the man.
After all, he was a Lightkeeper, wasn’t he? The boy remembered what his older sister always said about them: The brave selfless soldiers who light up the dark for Humanity.
Where there had once been only suffocating darkness, there was now light—the azure flame of the man’s lantern awakening the world in soft clarity. The path revealed itself, the looming shapes of buildings emerging from the fog like slumbering giants.
The boy gasped, “I can see the way now!”
The man turned his face back towards the boy, his ashen skin looking almost blue in the light of the azure flame, “Well then, young man, lead the way.”
The boy nodded enthusiastically, his smile wide and determined now. All traces of fear and doubt gone from his face.
The man walked right behind the boy, making sure to light up the way as the boy made his way back to his home—a building much on the outskirts of the much more populated settlement on the small island connected to the mainland, it was fairly larger and more grandiose than the others in the island, proof of the family’s affluence.
“That’s my home!” The boy exclaimed, his voice tinged with relief. He turned quickly, clutching his fruits tighter. “Thank you, Mister Lightkeeper! My sister, she really loves Lightkeepers! She says they’re like heroes… I never really believed her before, but after seeing you mister I agree with her! She even says she wants to join them when she grows up.”
“A noble and brave aspiration,” he replied smoothly in a polite manner.
“…Um—!” The boy hesitated. His parents and sister always used to tell him to never invite anyone in their home, especially at night for they could be dangerous monsters out to get him and his family. But… this Mister was a Lightkeeper right? He could trust this person!
The boy looked up at the ghoulish man, uncertainty flickering before determination took its place. “Would you like to… maybe come inside? Just for a little bit?” he asked. “My sister’s been really sad lately because she was forced to be in bedrest… I think she’d feel a lot better if she met you!”
“...Of course.” The man smiled, “How can I reject such an invite from a young lad?”
The boy’s face lit up and he quickly scrambled to open the door, his movements a bit clumsy as he was still holding the fruits he had collected.
“Please, come in!”
The man gave the boy another polite smile and stepped inside.
The house was warm and looked lived in and well loved. From the family portraits hung on the walls to the signs of children living there: it was surely a loving family whoever lived here. In such a warm an inviting place, the man, with his strange blue hair, pale white face and empty yellow eyes looked especially out of place, as if a monster trying to fit into the humans.
The man’s gaze drifted slowly across the interior before settling back on the boy.
“Tell me, young man.” He said, voice still pleasant, “Where are your parents? It would be impolite of me not to greet them first.”
“They’re in the basement,” the boy replied quickly. “They’re doing research—they’re always busy…”
“I see.” The man’s smile sharpened, his voice becoming sweeter and more persuasive, “Why don’t you prepare those fruits for your sister?” he suggested kindly. “I will greet your parents in the meantime.”
The boy looked back at the fruits in his hands, nodded eagerly and hurried off.
As the boy went away, the man’s smile dropped completely, a blank expression overtaking his features.
“And please do take your time.”
The staircase to the basement yawned open like a mouth. Each step downward seemed to dim the world further, the lantern’s blue glow stretching shadows into long, unnatural shapes that clung to the walls and ceiling. The air grew thicker, heavier, the wood creaking beneath each step.
At the bottom of the stairs, there was another door.
“Ah… this might be troublesome…” the man murmured to himself. Then, just as quickly, he smiled. “Well, I doubt they would suspect their young child knocking. It is quite common for human children to disturb their parents during work—or so I’ve heard.”
He raised his hand and knocked.
Knock. Knock.
“Mom?” came a small, fragile voice—from the man’s mouth. His deep tone had vanished entirely, replaced by the boy’s softer, bashful one. “Can I come in? I can’t find the medicine for sister…”
A second later, a response came.
“Yes, darling. Come in.”
The man smiled, and opened the door.
“Thank you for the gracious invite,” he said as he stepped inside. Both figures within turned toward him—and froze. His voice had already dropped back into something deep and inhuman, his form shrouded in darkness tipped with azure, like living flame. “Mr. and Mrs. Nowak.”
“You…” Mr. Nowak’s face drained of color, his skin turning ashen, his voice barely more than a whisper of fear. He recognized him. “The Azure Flame.”
Faes were among the most feared of all creatures—cruel and mischievous beings who found pleasure in the suffering of mankind. For centuries, they had ruled over the humans of Scheznaya, wielding power and fear with ease, keeping them like cattle to toy with as they pleased.
But even among the fae, there was one more feared than the rest.
A cruel and powerful being who served the Tsar without question, ensuring his eternal reign by crushing anything that stood in his path—fae, human, or otherwise.
The Azure Flame.
Unconcerned by the weapons suddenly pointed at him, the fae merely kept smiling, bowing in mock politeness. “Oh my, it certainly makes things easier if you already know me. The last few centuries have been rather slow, so I doubted short-lived species like humans would remember me—let alone recognize me. It truly is an honour for a soul like me. But The Azure Flame is rather long, is it not? I’d prefer you call me by my moniker—‘Flins’.”
“Hah! As if a fae would so easily give away its name.” The man scoffed, stepping closer to his wife while keeping his gun trained on the fae. Such foolish humans, Flins thought. As if something like a gun could harm a fae—let alone one as old and strong as him. “Names are everything to your kind. It’s your identity, your very existence. To own one’s name is to own them entirely.”
Flins’ smile only widened. “My, how knowledgeable you are.”
“When you’re surrounded by monsters like you for centuries, which human wouldn’t be?” the man spat. “Humans aren’t so foolish that they don’t understand the creatures ruling them.”
“Ah, forgive me for thinking so,” Flins replied lightly, his tone a careful blend of politeness and mockery. “To a long-lived being like me, the lives—and knowledge—of such short-lived creatures can be… easy to overlook.”
“You—”
Finally, the woman spoke. “How did you get in here?” she asked, fear threading through her otherwise steady voice.
“Your kind son graciously invited me in, after I lent him a hand finding his way home.”
The couple’s eyes widened.
“What did you do to him, you monster?!”
The fae sighed. “Your son is quite alright, I can assure you. And if your understanding of the fae is as thorough as you claim, then you should also know—we do not lie. Unlike humans, so often mired in dishonesty.” He smiled. “He’s merely preparing the fruits he gathered for your ailing daughter. And if he is both clever and fortunate, he won’t come down here for some time.”
“You—”
“Enough chitchat.”
Flins’ voice turned cold. Moments ago, it had carried that air of mocking politeness, that playful mischief—but now it was stripped bare, blank and serious. His expression shifted with it, the mask of courtesy falling away. And in its absence, it became clear—painfully clear—why the fae was so feared.
“Mr. and Mrs. Nowak, I’m sure you already know why the Tsar sent me here.”
The couple flinched, ever so slightly. They tried to hide it, but to the sharp eyes of a fae, not even the smallest twitch escaped notice.
“Your family has been quite the asset to our Court for a whole decade. For faekind like me, that may be short, but for humans…” Flins tilted his head faintly, a hint of mock amusement creeping back into his tone. “I believe that is quite a surmountable length of time.” He made a show of glancing around. “Your home stands as a testament to the Tsar’s benevolence. Gifts, riches, near-unlimited access to funds for your research—everything provided to support what he desires.” His gaze returned to them, smile thin. “But… I fear you may have forgotten something. As generous as we are in repaying debts, we are equally unforgiving when crossed.”
He stepped forward.
The sharp click of his boots seemed to swallow the room whole, the sound deafening in the heavy air. The azure flame in his lantern flickered, shadows stretching and twisting, swallowing parts of his ashen face in something almost alive.
“Humans,” he continued, voice low, almost contemplative. “Liars. Thieves. Creatures steeped in dishonesty.” A pause. “And yet, the Tsar still granted you a chance—to aid in his cause. All you had to do was uphold your end of the bargain.” He exhaled slowly, a sigh laced with deep, almost genuine disappointment. “But even then… you chose betrayal.”
His gaze sharpened.
“The Tsar was infinitely patient while your new tasks dragged on longer than expected. But when we looked closer…” His smile returned, thin and sharp. “To think you used the very resources he so generously provided to create weapons—and to fund the Lightkeepers. An organization that has opposed the Crown time and time again.”
Another step closer.
“This kind of betrayal…” His voice dipped, quieter now, more dangerous. “Surely, you understand what your punishment will be.”
The couple shivered under the fae’s unkind gaze, yet remained resolute, the gun still trained on him.
Tsk… Human determination—even in the face of certain destruction. How irritating. If only they could accept their meagre existence and go with the flow. But no—they always had to resist, to lash out, to make things worse for themselves, ensuring their own downfall.
Did they truly believe the fae had some grand passion for tormenting them? If only they accepted their place in the pecking order, things would be so much easier. Why struggle, knowing it would only hurt more? Knowing it was futile?
“But,” Flins raised a gloved finger, his cold expression melting back into that perfectly polite smile—so flawless it felt wrong, uncanny, more terrifying than his earlier severity, “since our Tsar’s benevolence knows no bounds,” he drawled, “I have been permitted to offer you both a second chance.”
The couple didn’t relax. They weren’t foolish enough to take such ‘kindness’ at face value. Their stance remained tense, suspicious. If not for their children upstairs, perhaps they might have risked pulling the trigger on the damned creature before them… but they couldn’t. Not when it might endanger their own flesh and blood.
“Losing two minds as capable as yours would be quite the waste,” Flins continued smoothly. “Please understand—we do not wish to dispose of you. In fact, it is very much in faekind’s interest for you to continue your work under us. Let us simply… set aside this unfortunate lapse.”
“…What’s the catch?”
Flins’ smile widened as he stepped closer.
“Well… since you’ve proven yourselves no longer worthy of the Tsar’s trust, there is only one way to ensure your loyalty.”
He stopped right before them, gaze settling over the pair.
“Give your names to me.”
There it was. The generous offer. The only one Flins was allowed to make to save this poor family and their children from the wrath of the deranged Tsar, one he had to convince the Tsar to allow for a long, arduous while. Now if only these two humans would be intelligent enough to take this golden olive branch—the only one both them and Flins could afford then—
“Like hell we would, you damned beast—”
Hiss!
Mr. Nowak’s hand fell to the ground with a sickening thud, still gripping the gun as blood spurted violently from the cleanly severed stump. A second later the scream came—raw, guttural, tearing itself from his throat as he collapsed onto his knees, clutching at his arm as if he could somehow force it back. His wife shrieked, dropping beside him, her hands shaking as she tried to stop the blood, calling out to him again and again, her voice breaking, “Darling—darling—!”
Flins simply watched with a blank expression as if the scene before him was nothing more than routine, the spear which had just materialised in his hand was held tightly within those gloved fingers, shaking and shivering minutely.
Fine… try and save their hide if you must…
But you get only one chance Flins, only one—
And if they refuse… if they dare refuse—
Kill them.
Kill them—kill them all—kill those filthy traitors and their whole—
—Bang!
A sharp crack split through the room, cutting through the voice in his head as something struck his hand. Sharp, unfamiliar pain flared in his right hand, forcing his fingers to loosen as the spear clattered to the ground.
For the first time that night, the measured and composed expression on the fae’s face crumpled. His eyes widened slightly as he stared at his hand, the stinging sensation spreading through it, as if his whole arm were burning from the inside, thorns prickling bone and flesh alike.
How long had it been since he had last been hurt? And how did these humans even manage to—?
His gaze snapped up.
The woman stood there, her hands trembling yet steady enough to hold the gun, her face twisted not in fear but with pure, unfiltered, feral rage and loathing.
“Feel it,” she spat, her voice shaking with venom, “feel the pain you’ve inflicted on so many others—die, you filthy creature—!”
All Flins had to do was look, and the lantern hanging from his hip flashed an azure bloom.
Azure flames ignited around the human woman in an instant, swallowing her whole as her screams ripped through the air—high, desperate, unending—as she burned alive. She collapsed onto the ground, writhing as the flames consumed her, while her husband could do nothing but watch, his own screams now mixing with hers—half from pain, half from horror.
Flins bent down to pick up his spear, but the sharp pain made him wince; the weapon slipped from his grasp again as his injured hand twitched, the pain still there—persistent and prominent. His gaze lingered on the wound, something uncharacteristically uncertain flickering through his mind.
That… should not have happened. A human weapon… injuring a fae? Was this what these two had been researching? What they had been helping the Lightkeepers with? Creating weapons that could harm a fae?
If so… that was a problem. A much bigger one than he had initially thought.
Even if the wound itself was minor—one he could heal in a few days if he focused all his energy on it—this was still something grave.
Flins’s gaze shifted back to the man, who was still alive, barely, his body trembling as blood continued to pool beneath him.
Stepping forward, Flins raised his hand and summoned the azure flames once more, the fire materialising onto the man’s severed arm. The flesh burned instantly, cauterizing it as the man screamed again, his body jerking violently from the pain.
After all, Flins needed the man alive to answer his questions.
“That weapon,” Flins said calmly, his eyes flickering briefly to the gun lying on the floor. “Did you make it? If so, how?”
Mr. Nowak looked up at him, his face pale and twisted with grief and hatred, his voice hoarse yet filled with venom, “You filthy monsters… your kind… your cruelty, your mockery of human lives… does it ever end? Do you ever tire of this—?”
Kill them. Kill them—those filthy traitors—!
The voice rang in Flins’s mind yet again, like an endless chant pressing against it, the pressure enough to make him wince once more, his breathing staggered.
Flins’s fire burned—tuning down the pressure of the maddening voice in his head—and Mr. Nowak’s words dissolved into a scream as the azure flames engulfed him. His body convulsed as he burned alive just as his wife had moments ago. His voice broke, weakened, and then disappeared entirely, leaving behind nothing but the crackling of flames and the faint glow of embers where his body had been.
Thud!
Maybe it was because of the couple’s screams, or the shrieking echo of his Tsar’s orders in his head, but Flins had failed to notice the presence of two humans behind him. He turned his head and was met with the horrified gazes of two children—the older girl with her arms wrapped around the younger boy’s mouth and body as if to keep him from running forward and revealing them, both their eyes filled with tears and pure fear and devastation.
The ringing in Flins’s head only grew,
Kill them—those filthy traitors and their whole family—!
The fear of having the murderer of their parents finally notice them and turn to face them must have made the little girl freeze, her grip slackening just enough for her younger brother to slip free, his mouth no longer covered.
Kill them—
“M-Mister…?” the boy whispered, his voice cracked from the dry air that smelled of burnt flesh. “You… you said you were a Lightkeeper—”
“Ivan!” the sister shrieked, yanking her younger brother behind her. “That’s a fae! Get back!”
Kill them—Killthemkillthemkillthem—
“A fae? But—but he said…” The boy’s face fell completely, pure despair overtaking it, the expression looking even more wrong on his young features. “Oh… I invited the fae inside… I—I caused this—”
The shrill words rang louder and louder in Flins’s ears, the order from the one who owned his name—the one who owned his existence—spiralling through his mind—
Killkillkillkillkill—
Azure flames spilled out around the fae as if a dam had burst, consuming everything—the basement, the house, the humans.
“Ivan! IVAN!”
All Flins could see was a sea of blue, just as all he could hear was screaming. The flames burned brighter and brighter, raging with such force as if to drown it all out, curling around his half-formed human shape like some self-soothing gesture.
Why?
He had given them a chance.
He had offered them a way to save their skin.
If only they had accepted, they would have lived. Then Flins wouldn’t have had to kill them. They knew rejecting him meant certain death—of both them and their children.
Then why—
Why, why why why—?!
Why were humans so foolish, walking willingly into the flame and then crying that it burned? Flins had tried to save them—he really had.
Then why…
All around him was a world of decimation, a sea of blue flames devouring everything, as if trying to fill some hollow in its heart—only to feel emptier still, rising higher and higher, consuming everything without mercy.
Flins’s arm still bled, the bullet wound stinging, screaming, his blood throbbing—but even that he could no longer bring himself to feel. He only stared at the destruction before him, eyes devoid of anything and everything. Like a soul that had given up—on pain, on joy, on hope—on feeling at all.
Why did he ever think this would end differently than the countless times before? Why did human ego always prevail, leading them to their own ruin, leaving Flins no choice…
Or maybe he never had a choice to begin with.
The last of the blue flames flickered, dying as there was nothing left to consume, leaving nothing behind.
Flins remained where he stood, his gaze resting on the wreckage—yet seeing nothing at all.
Yes… he had never had a choice. He had only ever convinced himself that he did. From the moment he could remember—from when the Tsar took his name, stripped him of his memories, and remade him into his most beautiful, perfect, and deadly tool—he had never been free.
Eight centuries…
After eight centuries, Flins had accepted it.
He was a creature of the night. A monster who took lives—human and fae alike. A trapped flame whose only purpose was to burn for another’s sake, to exist within someone else’s control and restraint—never seeing dawn, cursed to remain in the dark for eternity and—
“Is anyone there?! Hey!”
Flins turned toward the voice—and that’s when he saw it.
A bright light melting the darkness around it, shining so fiercely it seemed to breathe life back into the world. Like a supernova—so radiant, so overwhelming—Flins could only stare, unable to look away even as his eyes burned from its brilliance.
“If you’re alive, make a sound!”
And as the light dimmed enough for him to see the human holding it, he met a pair of eyes even brighter than the light itself.
Ah… the light of a world Flins did not belong to.
How cruel.