(3rd Person POV)

Lenna continued to row the boat as she approached the ruins of the village that led to where she needed to go.

She was a small, petite, girl with long, sun-kissed, wavy blonde hair that fell to her waist. Her skin was fair, her eyes were cerulean, and her lips were rose-colored.

She made her way to the shoreline, pulling herself against the broken down platform. She quickly wrapped the rope around a sturdier looking section of wood.

She leapt off of her small boat onto the platform, and started her walk towards the village. 

By this time, it was clearly in ruins. The thousands of years that it had not been used had left it in a sorry state. No building stood as it had before, and each had taken some kind of damage, although clearly from various sources.

She trekked through the ruins, moving past the broken wooden and stone structures, stepping through a broken stone arch.

Lenna quickly ducked behind a building, and continued her way to her destination as she approached the correct house, the one that was home to the first king of Mantle.

She made her way to the secret location, and approached the small shrine that housed the room. She raised her hand to it, and pressed her palm against the fire symbol.

Stone seemed to rub together, and Lenna took a few steps back, looking as the shrine was pulled down into the ground. When she looked down, she saw that there was a staircase that led down underground.

She quickly made her way down the stairs, growing in excitement as she approached the bottom of the stairs.

The stairs opened up into a large room, drawings carved into the stone. Torches lined the walls and were not lit up, leaving the room with a cold feel.

She made her way across the room, approaching the small bowl.

The bowl was on a small pedestal, at her waist level. The bowl had fire bubbling up from the bottom, and there was a small knife off to the side.

She slowly reached over to the knife, seeming to be guided by some outside force. She dragged the knife over to her other hand and pressed the tip against her palm. She took a deep breath as she put her hand over the fire, and then dragged the knife against her palm.

She hissed in pain as it cut into her hand, and the blood dripped into the fire.

Almost immediately, flames rushed from the bowl behind her, lighting up each of the torches behind her, illuminating the room.

She wrapped a binding around her hand and waited for something more to happen, and grew nervous as nothing happened.

Lenna: I'm here because of the dreams since the Fall of Beacon... They told me to come here...

???: You were well informed.

Lenna was startled by the deep voice, and an accent that she had never heard before. It was foreign to her, but that would make sense, him coming from a different time.

She turned around, seeing a tall figure that wore a cloak. Lenna couldn't see his face, but she knew who he was. The smallest emotion managed to wedge its way into her heart, pushing past her numbing grief.

Fear.

The figure drew back his hood to show a man with fair skin, long, bright red hair and bright red eyes. He was unnaturally handsome, more so than any other she had ever seen, except her beloved.

???: I can thank you for this.

Lenna: Don't... Don't thank me.

???: But I must. I'm free because of you. You... your power brought me back.

His gaze moved up and around to the chamber that he was in, and then he swept his gaze over her.

???: You and I, we have much in common.

Lenna: No we don't. All I w...

???: But we do. We both want to embrace who we are, we both want to stop being used by others and discarded at their will. We both desperately want control over our destinies and revenge over our enemies.

She didn't reply, so startled that she agreed with everything he said.

???: Unfortunately, there are still obstacles in my path to absolute freedom and limits to my current power. 

Lenna could only stare at him. He appeared to be no more than twenty, but she knew there was no number for his real age.

He was eternal.

After a moment, she focused her sight on the magic user that she had summoned with her blood.

Lenna: Are you going to kill me?

She was surprised that the thought of it didn't fill her with fear anymore.

???: No. I need your help.

Lenna: My help?

The thought was ludicrous.

Lenna: Why would someone like you need my help?

???: Because you have the power to destroy those who want to control me. And I never, ever want to be controlled or imprisoned again.

She fell silent, her heart pounding.

???: There are those out in this land that threaten our survival. There are those that can stop them, although they are not as powerful. They are at the mercy of whoever finds them. We must locate them and keep them safe.

This could be her destiny - to be here at the break of dawn with the blood of three people on her hands. Her fake her parents, and him. Two which she hated, and only one which she loved.

There was no one in the world she trusted anymore; no one who didn't want to use her and cast her aside when they were done.

With him gone, she had no one to guide her, no one to be with her.

Her power burned within her, but despite the pain and suffering, she'd never felt more powerful in her life.

???: Will you help me?

He asked this again when silence fell between them.

He was dangerous - she felt it down in her very soul. The price of this man's freedom would be forged from pain, death and fire.

Lenna: Yes.

The single word sealed her fate.

Standing there in the stone tomb, forgotten for millennia, she was ready to watch the world burn.

He'd asked her to call him Ignatius.

He didn't look much older than twenty years of age. He had fair skin, long, bright red hair that went down to his mid-back, bright red eyes and was taller than any man Lenna had ever known.

He wore a black dress shirt, a long white vest, and a black ascot with a red gem. Over this he donned a dark brown, almost black, coat with golden trimmings and tassels, ending with black fur-trims.

He wore black pants which were embellished with chains on his right thigh, while his amulet, attached to a belt, was settled upon his left thigh. He also wore cuffed, dark brown boots held by multiple buckles, and a pair of black gloves, with their palm sides all red while the backs were black with a matching red diamond pattern.

Immortal and nearly indestructible. Able to end a mortal's life in a flash of fire and pain with a mere thought. He was a god of the fire, previously imprisoned in a different realm for countless millennia. 

And how he sat right across from her, slurping barley soup in a small tavern in Mantle.

Ignatius: This...

He signaled to the barmaid for another bowl.

Ignatius: Is absolutely delicious.

Lenna regarded him with disbelief.

Lenna: It's just soup.

Ignatius: You say that as if this isn't a miracle contained within a wooden bowl. This is sustenance that feeds both the body and the soul. Mortals could live off unseasoned meat and plucked grass and yet they choose to make concoctions that smell and taste divine. If only they applied their minds to everything in this manner rather than wasting their time squabbling about mundane topics and killing each other for petty reasons.

When they first met, she'd expected him to lay waste to Remnant immediately in his quest to assassinate his enemies.

At the time, she'd been so numb with grief she hadn't been able to think straight. Her pain was so great that it was the only thing she'd wanted to share with the world.

Lenna wondered what her long dead lover, and dead mother might say if they could see her now, sitting in a tavern, across from the soup-eating fire god. The thought almost made her smile.

Ignatius: Eat.

He pointed to her bowl.

Lenna: I'm not hungry.

Ignatius: Do you want to wither away and die? 

He raised a pale brow.

Ignatius: Is that what you're doing? Starving yourself so you can be reunited with your beloved?

Whenever Ignatius said the word beloved, his expression darkened.

Anger. Hatred. The need for vengeance. They shimmered just beneath the otherwise genteel exterior of this powerful being.

It was much the same whenever Lenna heard his name. The pain of having learned that he, too, had used her for his own gain had faded in the days since she'd lost him. The scar tissue that wound had left behind had grown thicker, tougher, as protective as a plate of armor.

No one would ever use her like that again.

Lenna: No. Believe me, I want to live.

Ignatius: I'm very glad to hear that.

Lenna stared down at her bowl and brought a spoonful of soup to her lips.

Lenna: This is watery and tasteless.

Ignatius reached over and took some for himself to sample.

Ignatius: To you, perhaps. But that doesn't make it less of a miracle.

The miracle that Lenna wanted to come upon most of all was the answers to her questions. All she wanted to know was the answers to her powers that she possessed, those that she possessed without aura, that was clearly not her semblance. She wanted to find her the one she had known all those years ago, the young boy in Raven's camp.

Lenna realized that Ignatius was watching her and she looked up from her bowl.

Ignatius: You still want to help me, don't you?

His voice was softer now, as he asked the question.

Lenna: Of course. I hate these people that determine our fates as much as you do.

Ignatius: I highly doubt that. But I'm sure there's no lost love between you after all that's happened.

He sighed. Suddenly, he looked very mortal to Lenna. Very vulnerable, and very tired.

Ignatius: Once they are dead, perhaps I can finally find peace.

Lenna: As soon as he's dead, we'll find your family, and then you can find peace. And anyone who gets in our way will be very, very sorry.

Ignatius: My fierce little sorceress.

He grinned at her.

Ignatius: You remind me of a very friend of mine. He protected us, too. He was the only one who understood what we wanted - what we needed - more than anything else.

Lenna: To be free, and to be a real family.

Ignatius: Yes.

Lenna: What if we find those who have what we need and they refuse to help us? Will we have to torture them?

Ignatius: Torture?

He frowned.

Ignatius: I don't think that'll be necessary. Your power will be sufficient to help get us what we need.

Lenna knew that her powers were more powerful than most semblances, but she'd only started to scratch the surface. She yearned to know more.

Lenna: What do you mean?

Ignatius: My friend had a special dagger. He could carve symbols into people's flesh - both immortal and mortal alike. The wounds would ensure obedience and truthfulness in any subject he chose.

Lenna: So he had some fancy power. How does that story help me?

Ignatius: He could compel truth and obedience from mortals even without his dagger. It was a combination of all of his power. He manipulated one's very will and manipulated it into a different shape. Drawing truth from a reluctant tongue. The same power that the dagger had been infused with at its creation was the power he possessed naturally. You possess it, too, little sorceress.

Lenna regarded him with awe at the sheer number of possibilities this presented. 

Lenna: Honestly, I've never experienced anything like that. It sounds far too good to be true. I mean, I have his power, but I'm not immortal like him.

Ignatius: Mortality has nothing to do with it, really.

Ignatius polished off what was left of his third bowl of soup.

Ignatius: However, you are correct that you are twenty-one years old and he was ancient and ageless. You'll need a lot of practice before you'll be ready to wield this power without any serious difficulties.

Lenna frowned.

Lenna: Difficulties? Like what?

Ignatius: Best to show rather than tell.

He nodded at the approaching barmaid.

Ignatius: Try this new gift on her. Capture her gaze. Will your deepest power into her as if it's a substance she will breathe in, and have her tell you a guarded truth.

Lenna: That's about as clear as mud.

He spread his hands.

Ignatius: I can't do it, myself. I've only seen it done. But I know it's within you. You should be able to feel it rise up and flow through your every pore.

Lenna: Well... I can make water swirl without influencing it physically.

Ignatius: Like that simple power, yes. But more. Deeper. Bigger. More epic.

Lenna: Did you just say more epic?

She rolled her eyes, equally exasperated and fascinated by everything he said.

Lenna: Fine. I'll try.

The ability to pull the truth from anyone's lips was a skill far too tempting to ignore. It would be so useful in countless ways.

The barmaid arrived at their table and slid another steaming bowl of soup in front of Ignatius.

Barmaid: There you go, handsome. Can I bring you anything else?

Ignatius: Not for me. But my friend has a question for you.

The barmaid looked at Lenna.

Barmaid: What is it?

Lenna took a deep breath and locked eyes with the woman. It had become effortless to use the most simple power, but this had to be different.

Even though she tried to expel her emotions, she still felt the swirl of darkness down deep inside of her. It was as if she could see that power - a power whose surface she'd only skimmed.

Dreaming about Ignatius had meant tapping into this swirling ocean. She had dove into it so deeply she'd nearly drowned.

She needed to go there again, to that deep, dangerous place. This was not raising some water out of a pitcher. This was not treading water without physically exerting herself or turning water to ice.

The deep, dark power within her blended together and formed into the shape of a dagger. Lenna envisioned pressing this black dagger to the barmaid's throat.

Lenna: Tell me your darkest secret - the one you've never told anyone else.

Lenna spoke the words, a whir of echoes all around her, and forced them into the woman's mind.

Barmaid: I... uh... what?

Lenna inhaled deeply and pressed that invisible dagger closer to the woman's throat.

Lenna: Your darkest secret, speak it now. Don't resist.

A violent shudder shot through the barmaid, and blood began to trickle from her nose.

Lenna: I... I killed my baby brother when I was five years old. I smothered him with a blanket.

Stunned, Lenna fought to hold on to her concentration.

Lenna: Why would you do that?

Barmaid: He... he was sickly. My mother spent all her time with him and none with me. I was ignored. So I got rid of him. I hated him and never regretted what I did.

Lenna finally broke eye contact with the barmaid, disgusted by the confession.

Lenna: Leave us.

The woman absently wiped her bloody nose, then turned and quickly scurried away without another word.

Ignatius: Well done. I knew you could do it.

Lenna: The power causes them pain. Not me.

Ignatius: Only if they try to resist. He had such great control over the power that no one resisted, and no one was harmed. You'll grow stronger in time.

A little blood wasn't anything to get squeamish about. This ability was worth the price that had to be paid, but Lenna decided right then that she'd use her truth powers sparingly. Some truths were not meant to be known.

But some most certainly were.

Lenna: What she confessed to us... It reminded me of a secret of my own.

Ignatius: What?

Lenna: When I was a baby, I was told that I had no living relatives. When my mother died, I had no one to go to, and I was with bandits for some reason. I met a boy there... I have tried searching for him. If he's still alive, I want to find him.

Just considering the possibilities of meeting him once more gave her new life, and an oddly giddy sense of hope.

Finished with his meal, Ignatius stood up from the table and offered Lenna his hand.

Ignatius: I will help you find him, and I will help you bring your beloved back. I promise I will.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she couldn't stop the smile that began to stretch across her face.

Lenna: Thank you.

Ignatius: It's truly the least I can do for you, my little sorceress, after all you've already done for me.

Lenna reached into her cloak, pulled out a wallet of lien, and placed the appropriate amount on the table to pay for their meal, her mind still reeling from this new and powerful discovery.

A bald man with a short beard approached their table, smiling.

Man: Good evening to you both.

Ignatius: Good evening.

The man rested the edge of his dagger on the table.

Man: I'm not one for formal introductions, so let me get right to the point. I'm very interested in that pretty wallet of lien you were just waving about. How about you give it to me, and then all of us can leave this place unharmed.

Lenna regarded him with disbelief.

Lenna: How dare you insult me.

She hissed, lurching up to her feet, while the man only laughed.

Man: Sit down, little girl. And you too.

He said the last part, looking fiercely at Ignatius.

Ignatius: Lenna...

Ignatius said her name calmly, taking a seat again.

Ignatius: It's fine.

Lenna: No, it's not.

In the space of a heartbeat, Lenna had grown ready to peel the skin from this loathsome thief one inch at a time for this insult.

Man: Of, you've got some fire in you, don't you?

The thief's loathsome gaze slid over her open cloak as he nodded with leering approval.

Man: I like pretty young girls with fight in them. Makes it more interesting.

Lenna: Ignatius, can I kill him?

Ignatius: Not quite yet.

Ignatius leaned back in his chair and pressed his palms down against the table, looking completely at ease.

Ignatius: See, Lenna? This is a perfect example of what I was talking about before. Mortals have so much potential, but they lust after such base, unimportant things. A few lien, meaningless sex. Small symbols of power of monetary pleasure. Immortals aren't any better. It disgusts me.

He looked up at the thief and shook his head.

Ignatius: If you'd only ask for help, we'd give it to you. Are you hungry? Let us buy a meal. I do recommend the barley soup they have here.

The thief eyed him.

Man: As if you'd actually help a stranger.

Ignatius nodded.

Ignatius: If every mortal looked at others as their friends, not as their enemies, the world would be a much better place wouldn't it?

Lenna regarded Ignatius with total bemusement. He sounded like a priest who would give long sermons about virtues.

Trust strangers. Give of yourself. Be kind.

She'd once believed in such nonsense.

Man: That's so incredibly kind of you, friend.

The thief said this, smiling. Then he raised his dagger and stabbed it down, hard, pinning Ignatius' left hand to the table.

Man: But I'd really prefer to get what I asked for. Give me that lien, or I'll stick my dagger in your eye next.

Lenna stared at Ignatius with shock as the fire god calmly studied his impaled hand.

Ignatius: I offered to help you, and this is what you do?

Man: I didn't ask for your help. Only asked for your lien.

Ignatius slowly pulled his hand toward himself, forcing the blade to slice between his fingers, and ripping the glove that he wore.

The thief grimaced and nearly gagged.

Man: What the...?

Now free from the dagger, Ignatius rose to his feet, his previously peaceful expression only a memory. His eyes, once a bright, seemed to glow, so bright that they glowed in the dimly lit tavern.

Ignatius: Your weakness disgusts me. I need to cleanse it from this world.

The thief took a step backward, raising his hands in surrender.

Man: Look, I don't want any trouble.

Lenna: Really? You could have fooled me.

Lenna's skin still crawled from the lecherous way the man had looked at her.

Lenna: Kill this pathetic mortal, Ignatius, or I'll do it myself.

She felt the heat before she saw the fire. A narrow whip of flames snaked toward the man, licking his boot and slowly winding up his ankle, calf, and thigh like a vine of fire. 

Every patron in the tavern took notice as chairs skidded against the wooden floor and men and women collectively rose to their feet with alarm. Lenna watched fear flicker in their eyes as they watched the strange fire entangle the thief.

The thief stared at Ignatius with wide eyes.

Man: No! Don't - whatever you're doing - don't do this!

Ignatius: It's already done.

Man: You - what are you? You're a demon. A Grimm!

The flames engulfed his mouth and face until his entire body, head to toe, became a torch.

The thief screamed. The shrieking sound reminded Lenna of a frightened rabbit caught in the jaws of an ice wolf.

The crowd around them scrambled, tripping over each other in their rush to get outside. The thief continued to burn, and the fire caught hold of the dry wooden chairs, wooden tables, wooden floor. Soon the entire tavern was ablaze.

Ignatius: He deserved to die.

Lenna: I agree.

Still, Lenna felt shaky as she followed him through the flames - flames that didn't burn or even touch her. She glanced over her shoulder as the screaming finally stopped and watched as the thief's body shattered like a crystal object hitting the hard floor.

Once outside, Lenna took one more look at the burning tavern.

There was no one in this world who could stop them from reaching their goal. A god and his little sorceress - they were the perfect match.

Lenna glanced down at Ignatius' hand. 

His wound had healed so perfectly, it was as if it had never been there in the first place.

Until next time!