It was difficult to tell just how much Riven ignored on his mad dash towards the ones he wanted to rescue. The noise of death and destruction echoed through every street, the sounds of the dying village omnipresent and inescapable. Here a man died. There a child was snatched from a mother’s grasp. Far off, people were trying to save someone from the wreckage of a burnt-out little building, while near at hand, an insane old man was pouring bucket after bucket on a house no bigger than a tool shed.

Riven had stepped into chaos. Into the Chasm itself perhaps, where insanity was a rite of passage, where mayhem ruled the day, where existing was an eternal curse. Where thought was as ephemeral as the smoke that stung his eyes and flooded his lungs.

Bartle’s house was burning like everything else. Too many demons whose Spirit had the aspect of fire, perhaps. Riven jumped off his horse before it came to a proper stop, and rushed through the ajar door into the unlit hallway. He was rushing too much. Taking a deep breath, and holding it, he froze and listened. Terrible thoughts assailed him, but he did his best to ignore them and hone in on the sounds everywhere. There was a lot. The crackle of fire, the splintering of burning wood, a low, continuous hissing like a loose vent of steam, and a low whimpering. Whimpering.

He opened his eyes and looked around. Nothing here could be seen besides the ruined furniture, and the sound was too faint here anyway. No, it had to be upstairs.

Riven pulled out his gun and sneaked upstairs, careful not to put too much weight on any foot. A single creak, and he’d alert any nearby demons to his presence and put the whimperer in greater danger. Could be Bartle’s daughter, could be Bartle himself. He wouldn’t put it past the man to be whimpering when facing a demon.

Another door was ajar on the second floor, fiery light spewing out like it was the entrance to a large forge. Riven crept to just beside the doorway and peeked in. A demon was there, just as he’d suspected. Bartle was on his hands on knees before the Fiend, but the strange whimpering wasn’t coming from him. Not at all.

It had to be his daughter, hidden somewhere Riven couldn’t see. Maybe she was behind him.

“Please,” Bartle said, head bowed low in supplication. “Spare us. I beg of you, spare us. What difference will two people like us make? I am too old and frail, and my daughter is merely a child.”

“All the more reason to take you with me.” The demon’s saccharine voice was decidedly female, though it was impossible to tell given the way her lilac scales shimmered. “Imagine, a demon as young as her, and an old man such as yourself. So many theories to test. You will be a part of something far greater than your miserable lives now. Come, join me.”

Bartle looked up. His face was tear-soaked, his lips and hands trembling all the while, but there was no give to the set of his jaw. No surrender in his dark eyes. “Please. If you must, take me with you. I’ve seen enough of life. But leave my daughter alone.”

“I’m afraid I cannot.”

The demon reached forward past Bartle’s shoulder and tried to reach something behind him. Probably Darley.

Bartle reacted by pushing the demon back and rising to his full height, which wasn’t much. He was more rotund than stocky and he had to be at least a few inches shorter than Riven, none of which were good odds for fighting.

The demon knew it. Her shoulders were loose, and the motion of her arms languid and careless as she stood well over a head taller than Bartle. The swipe of her arm was sudden. Too quick. One moment Bartle stood before her, frightened but unyielding. The next, he flew off towards the far wall, colliding with a painful thump before slumping to the floor. Riven had to hold back his grasp.

The Fiend reached forward again. Darley was in serious danger.

“Stop right there,” Riven shouted, stepping into the room with his gun drawn and pointed at the turning demon. “Any sudden moves, and I’ll blow out whatever you have in place of brains in that noggin of yours.”

The Fiend looked at him curiously like he was an oddity she had never seen before. “You must be one of the Essentiers. So late. And a mere little boy too.”

She tutted, the sound of which drove tiny nails right into Riven’s head. The demon was being flippant. Nonsensical, like this was all fun and games to her. All these lives, reduced to nothing more than playthings. The thought turned into a livewire in his head, hot as a sun.

“And you? You’re a fucking monster to do this. Killing people, burning down homes and businesses, ruining lives.” Riven was shouting now, and his voice wouldn’t go down even if he had wanted it to. “You’re going to pay for this, understand. You and every other Chasm-damned demon.”

“Oh, so frightening!” The Fiend grinned, baring teeth like needles. “And will you be the one to stop us, O great hero of Rattles?”

Riven fired. The bullet blasted out with the force of a meteor, glowing bright as a golden comet.

The demon caught it. There was a tiny flash as of lightning sparks, and her hand was in front of her chest where the bullet should have buried itself in. Rays of golden light seeped out between the fingers in her closed fist. When she opened it, the bullet had been crushed to dust, golden glitters showering to the floor.

“Is that the best you can do, little Essentier?” she asked, sneer sharp enough to slice.

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

“Good point.”

Another flash, and it lingered this time. Virulent white-blue lines arced all around her arm until the whole limb was encased in lighting, sparks dancing out everywhere and making the air smell like a thunderstorm. Then she thrust her glowing hand at Riven.

Lightning blitzed at him. Riven was ready, or his Essence was. A golden shield shot up, the pressure passing through him too fast to register, and the lightning blast dissipated in the glimmering air. He staggered back all the same, his skin tingling like something of the electricity had hit him regardless.

“The Chasm was that?” the demon asked.

Riven raised his gun. At the corner of his eye, he saw Darley sleeping or unconscious just behind the spot where Bartle had been kneeling. “Looks like we’re at an impasse.”

“Impasse my arse.” The demon yelled and charged.

Riven stumbled backwards as the Fiend rammed herself into the shield of golden air. He whole aura strained as the demon hit and slowed as though caught in a layer of honey, but she kept struggling, arms pushing against the thick air and sparks shooting off everywhere. Riven’s back hit the wall. A wall? When had he got turned away from the door?

He got off another shot, but the demon didn’t have to do anything this time. The Sept bullet struck the golden shield and clattered to the floor. Damn impasse. Well, impasse so long as his Essence held.

Riven’s hands fluttered around his waist until his fingers found the knife handle. He had the Coral blade in his hand, but how to use it? His Essence would rebuff it the same way it bounced back everything else. He stared, breaths heaving in and out, skin dancing as though it was heartbeats away from catching fire. The demon kept struggling, shouts growing louder and louder. Damn, she’d wake up Darley any moment.

He closed his eyes. Survival was what kept up the shield, but he didn’t need it if he didn’t need to survive. Or if he was safe. He pictured the scenario in his head where he was safe, where things went according to the crazy plan that he had just come up with. It would work and he’d be all right

Safe. He’d be safe. His heartbeat slowed a fraction.

Riven opened his eyes just in time to see the golden aura disappearing without a trace. The demon charged forward, eyes wide, her momentum carrying her forward too fast for her to be properly aware of what was happening. He grinned.

As soon as she was close, Riven ducked and swerved to the side, holding his Coral knife out to one side. The demon rushed past, sparks zapping Riven all over, but she caught his knife too. Its blade sliced through her waist. Sept fountained out of the long gash at her waist, and she collided with the wall, shattering into an avalanche of bricks and plaster.

But even as she was buried under the broken wall, a blast of thunder arced out. Riven felt the jolt of danger too late. The lightning struck true on his chest. He was blasted back, too shocked to even scream, every nerve on fire, eyes trying to roll into the back of his head.

Red. All he saw was red. Then everything went dark.

When he opened his eyes again, he spat. There was a burning taste in his mouth, and Riven was covered with debris. It hurt too much to move. Scions, the pain almost made the darkness return again, and he nearly welcomed it. Better oblivion than this crushing agony. His every nerve were trying to poke out of his skin, heated enough to give the sun a run for its money. And he didn’t even want to think of his burning chest.

Bartle. Bartle and his daughter. Riven couldn’t let the damn demon win. He was their only hope.

He pushed himself to his feet, dragging in deep and long breaths. Riven stared around. So much debris… why hadn’t he been crushed completely like the demon? Faint hints of gold still swam in the air. That must have been it. His Essence had activated, too late to save him from the lightning but still quick enough to stop the impact and the subsequent crash of rocks.

The demon wasn’t crushed as he’d thought. The crushed wall was shifting, rocks toppling off the top and tumbling to the bottom as the still-living Fiend struggled against her early grave.

Riven swallowed, then shuffled over to Bartle. Holy Scions, his chest was a cage of agony. Riven knelt at the man’s side then shook him until his eyes flickered open.

“You all right?” Riven asked. There was no outward sign of any injuries. But broken bones didn’t always show an outward sign.

“Wha—you?” his voice was groggy and a little annoyed as though Riven had just woken him up in the middle of a pleasant dream.

“Yes, it’s me. You need to get your daughter out of here.”

“What’s going—the demon?”

“Yes.” Riven looked behind him. The rubble had shifted enough to let more sparks arc out. “No time. Let’s go, get your daughter. Now!”

He helped Bartle up, then pushed him towards Darley. While Bartle got his child, Riven would distract the demon until they were safely away. The priority was their survival here, not the demon’s death. All he had to do was keep the Fiend occupied.

With an angry shriek, an enormous blue bolt blasted out and struck the ceiling. As the roof collapsed, the rubble cannoned to every direction, Riven threw himself to the floor. The whole building shook hard. When he looked back up, gawping and thanking the Scions over and over that Bartle’s little home was still standing, the Fiend was back on her feet, lightning flickering all over her body. Her wound was still spewing Sept, all of it fading as soon as it was free of her, but she paid it no mind.

Riven shot to his feet as well. The air was febrile, a metallic tang filling everywhere and everything. Bartle had fallen again, kneeling in front of his daughter like a human shield. A poor substitute for Riven’s Essence.

“It’s time you died,” the Fiend growled.

Another blast of lightning. Survive. The pressure shot out as fast as the blue-white lance, golden lines crafting a shield in the air to hold the electricity back. Sparks danced everywhere at the impact, but Riven was unharmed. The Fiend wasn’t done. A chunk of the roof, big enough to flatten Riven, came flying right at him. It was far too late for him to be able to do anything, but his shield still held. The piece of the broken ceiling hit the shield and bounce off.

“Fool!” the demon shrieked, laughing.

Riven jerked, twisting his head to see past the debris, then froze. What was the demon—

Another blast of lightning shot out, but this time right into the floor. No time to react. The ground beneath Riven’s feet cracked, then crumbled away. He fell, screaming for hardly heartbeats before hitting the landslide of broken house that the Fiend’s blast had caused. More rubble flowed over and past him, hitting him in the shoulder, clashing against his legs, bumping his head once or twice even after he kept it protected with his arms. Damn Essence. Where was it when he was being buried alive?

Riven groaned. Scions, he’d thought he hurt everywhere before, but this was a thousand times worse. He was nearly buried, mummified by debris. His shoulders glowed with pain, there was a nasty sting across his forehead, and he couldn’t feel his legs. That last one made his breaths come too fast. Too quick. He still had his legs, right? With a groan, he tried to move and—there! Toes moved. Then feet swivelling at ankles, then both legs jerking under the pile of rubble they had fallen victim to.

When the fall of debris ended, and Riven was no longer being pelted by stones and iron, he tried to get a grip on his surroundings. He was back outside, one half of the little house completely gone. The fires had mostly been extinguished but parts were still aflame, little trails of black smoke rising into the air as though the house’s soul was desperate to reach the heavens.

“No! You can’t.”

The shout, panicked, desperate, scared beyond belief, was another lightning bolt shooting through Riven’s spine. Bartle. Damn it, Riven couldn’t keep lying here any longer.

He struggled. The rubble was slow to shift, slower to give him even an inch of freedom. At one point, he was sure his struggling had only made it worse, freeing some from their awkward positions against each other to better crush his limbs.

The demon had walked up to the trembling Bartle. There was no lighting dancing anywhere, but the awful smile on her promised she wouldn’t need it. Bartle would die.

Survive. He had to survive. Only then could he help others survive.

The pressure came fast again, too quick for him to really feel it, and golden lines shot out from him all over. It encased him in a shield that expanded outwards, providing just enough space for Riven to squeeze himself out. It hurt to even crawl, his chest screaming at the lack of attention, promising he’d regret it later, but no time. He pushed and pushed, legs kicking back and arms pulling forward util he was free of the rubble.

Once out, Riven fell and tumbled to the bottom of the pile of rocks and forced himself up without a moment’s respite. No time for Bartle, so no time for Riven to rest.

The demon was choking the poor man.

“Let him go!” Riven screamed.

The Fiend only smiled at him. “Oh, you’re alive! How tenacious of you. Kindly die and cease giving me pointless trouble. You can’t stop me.”

Riven picked up a rock and threw it at the Fiend. It missed. He was stuck outside the house, as powerless as all the rubble to help. The stair had collapsed and there was no way to get back on the second floor other than attempting to climb, and he’d never make it there in time. Bartle was already turning blue. What was he going to do? What was there to do?

“Stop! You can’t do this.” Riven climbed up the scree of debris, picking up rocks in his path. He’d lost his damn gun and Coral knife too. Probably for good. “I said stop.”

The demon’s answering laugh jabbed right into his head. Bartle was trying to fight back, clubbing the Fiend with his fist and lashing out with his legs, but all to no avail. He demon only squeezed harder, Bartle’s head seeming to blow up like an overripe tomato.

Then she squawked. She dropped Bartle and stumbled backwards, and Riven saw his chance. Took it too. He threw one rock to hit her stumbling leg, and the demon lost her balance. She fell backwards through the gaping hole that she herself had created in the side of the house, and crashed into the mound of debris.

Back on the second floor, Darley was on her feet, holding the Coral knife in her hands. Bits of Sept glowed on its blade for a second before fading. She dropped the knife, and it clattered on the second floor then fell through the hole to the ground.

Riven didn’t wait to see what she did next, diving to his knife. The demon was struggling back up. This still wasn’t over.

Her lightning was back, and her mouth was twisted in an ugly scowl. “Can’t ever make it easy, can you?”

“You’re dying. It’s over. I’ve had enough with you.”

“What? You and your little knife?” The demon closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. When she opened it again, they were clear and calm, the anger simmering too far back to affect any judgement. “I’ve had enough with you. But unlike you, I’m not looking for a fight. You can go screw off to the Chasm.”

She jerked her hand, lightning arcing out. But it didn’t hit Riven. The blue bolt struck the second floor of Bartle’s house and the whole place collapsed.

Riven, of course, dove backwards. As he fell under the collapsing floor, his Essence rushed back and shot out in a torrent of golden lines. They suffused the area around him and turned the air into a golden cloud. Bartle and his crying little girl hit the shield but that was only a few yards drop. They weren’t hurt anywhere near as much they might have been had they fallen as far as Riven had. Though Riven was unable to do anything about the debris pelting them. Minor wounds. Unfortunate, but survivable.

The demon screamed, pelting more rubble and lighting at Riven. Not a one of which got past his shield of Essence. A rude gesture at the demon would be very appropriate, but then the demon charged, lightning shooting out everywhere.

Riven threw himself forward, right into her path, unheeding of the debris digging into his uniform and battering his injured body. He was in danger. In mortal danger. His Essence responded, throwing up the golden shield again, and the charging Fiend collided with it. Didn’t fully stop her though. She shot lightning everywhere, and the ground exploded at Riven’s feet, throwing him back.

He pulled himself up, gasping at the pain all over. Dramatic stupidity was quite painful. He raised his gun to shoot, but the demon’s arms broke through the barrier. What in the Chasm?

Lightning flashed again, and Riven ducked. He stared up from his crouch, gasping.

The demon was glowing blue-white all over, lightning outlining her whole body like she was a ghost instead of a demon. Another arm broke through, and Riven watched wide-eyed as the Fiend struggled through the entire barrier and it cracked like glass. He swallowed. Impossible. Either his Essence was losing strength or the demon was gaining it. Could it be…? Rivne thrust a hand into the pouch at his waist and brought out his extra cartridges. His heart sank. The bullets in them were losing their lustre. The Sept was fading, and fast.

His Essence wouldn’t last long.

The golden aura had turned from a cloud to a sickly membrane, and the demon was tearing through it, her lightning tore jagged cuts through it everywhere.

No time to waste. Riven got up and charged backwards towards Bartle and Darley. But he had only gotten a few steps when lightning flashed again. He was struck from behind. The agony blinded him, stole him away from the world, eviscerated his senses so much that he didn’t feel the impact with the ground. He only lay there groaning. Breathing in harsh and fast. Leaking tears everywhere. He had failed.

Riven’s vision swam, but he still saw the demon step past him and towards Darley crouching beside her father. “Stop.” His voice was a broken croak. A whimper. A whisk even an ant would have no trouble brushing off. “Stop.”

Darley looked up as the demon reached her. She stared around, maybe looking for Riven’s Coral knife to defend herself with, but the Fiend was looming over her now. She had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. No one to save her.

Riven tried to crawl forward, but the agony had clamped him in place, more tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes. His arms were heavier than lead, legs trembling too much to be of any use. He had been utterly defeated.

The demon reached out a hand. Darley took a moment to stare at the outstretched hand, all clawed and scaled, then swatted it away. They repeated the process, the demon proffering her hand and the girl pushing it away. Riven cursed with what little breath he could spare. The Fiend was toying with Darley. He tried to force himself to move again, but it was an impossible task to just stay awake.

Eventually, the demon got tired of their game. She tutted then swooped down to grab Darley and lift her up. There was a moment’s struggle, and a flash of lightning went up. Bartle’s daughter went limp.

“What did you do to her?” Riven demanded. His voice was still weak, far too weak, but he forced the words out anyway, no matter how much they scraped and clawed against his burned and bruised throat on their way out. “What did you do?”

The demon smiled down at him. “She’ll be one of us before you know it.”

“Come back.” He might as well have been begging his wounds to heal on their own. The demon walked away. “Stop! Come back!”

In seconds, the demon and the girl were both gone.

Riven didn’t know how long he lay there, feeling his heartbeat slow down and getting used to the agony pulsing all over him. His thoughts were a haze, like the smoke had infiltrated his skull and possessed his brain. Fire. Couldn’t a fire raze him too? Burn him? Reduce him to ashes, for that was as good as he’d ever be. Ashes and ashes.

At some point, he was crawling again. Somehow, he had pulled himself to Bartle. The man looked as bad as Riven felt. Really, the only reason he didn’t vomit seeing Bartle’s condition was because he was too fatigued to muster up the strength to do even that much.

“You have to save her,” Bartle said. His voice was worse than Riven’s had ever been. Not just hurt, not just reduced to something not quite a whimper or a whisper, defeated almost entirely. “Please.”

Riven grasped his hand. It was cold. Freezing. “I will, I promise. I’ll bring her back to you.”

“No. not me.”

“Of course you. Who else. You have to pull yourself together.”

“You need to save her,” he implored again. “You need…”

Bartle’s voice faded. His eyes went unseeing. His hand became colder than ever. Riven let go of the skin that now burned him as much as it froze him, and lay back beside the husk that used to be a father moments ago. A father who had desperately tried to protect his daughter. A man who had come crying to a tavern for his missing family.

A person Riven had failed. Bartle was dead.