There is a point where heat transcends itself and becomes cold. This is true of its opposite as well—Ancient Frost can burn. As I stand in the depths of this volcano, I am frigid. I cannot see my hands or any of my body. There is only a blinding light. It does not matter if my eyes are open or closed—the brightness is the same.

It is difficult for me to form thoughts—I am nothing but fire and anguish. Some distant part of me takes that as a good sign. The power of this inferno I stand in is enough to have turned me to ash instantly. If I am still in pain, that means I still exist enough to suffer. I have not been consumed.

So instead, I consume.

My Cor pulls in as much essence as it can handle, straining its veins as it races toward the peak of the Copper tier. At the same time, I extend my hands to either side, spewing flames out of them to make more room in my reserves.

For a moment, I am back in the iron room below Agogia again. I feel the awareness of this ancient forge spread through me as the flames shoot fifty paces into the air. I sense its impotent rage at being trapped in this box for hundreds of years, its endless hunger, its desire to consume the world.

I, too, wish to consume. I think of my enemies who still draw breath, of Brennus, Brutus, Tyrus, and Atticus. I gasp as something within the fire shifts, as if it suddenly recognizes me as one of its own. It no longer buffets me but now envelops me. I do not dream of a world of ash, but perhaps an empire of one.

But that’s not quite right, I realize, suddenly pulling myself out of the river of Unrelenting Fire’s rage. I do not seek to tear down the Empire. I am merely a man on a journey to avenge some wrongs. I am not a world burner. The cracks in the foundation of my faith in the Empire crumble, but do not break.

The system is not broken, just some of the people. I am not a revolutionary, just a janitor. If I am truly honest with myself, I do not even want to be that. I am just a man who is going to get even.

More. The fire seems to whisper to me. The elements do not truly speak, and yet they make their desires clear all the same. I shake my head, trying to contain the hunger that pours into me. I thought that Ancient Frost was devouring, but I see now that it is slow and ponderous. It envisions a creeping death for the world as it coils around us like a serpent. Compared to the fury of the Unrelenting Fire, it is patient.

I hesitate, unwilling to capitulate to its demands. I grew up in the wheat fields of the South. I know too well that an unchecked fire soon burns itself out. I have no desire to be like that, rampaging until I am my own demise. Iron and Ancient Frost call to me distantly, reminding me of their different paths. It is as if a trio of daemons perch on my shoulder, whispering to me their own variety of temptations.

I am nearing the peak of Copper. My reserve strains to the maximum capacity that its Cor can handle in its current state. Wild delight runs through me, joyful and bright. Soon I will be whole! As I grow better at accommodating the inferno around me, I begin to regain more of myself. I can feel my body, hale and unburnt.

But I have forgotten the danger.

I left Anas and Alessandra alone facing the men who were emerging from the dark. I do not know the interlopers’ intent, but their drawn swords speak volumes. Anas is dangerous and Ironbound, but as I have learned, there are ways to deal with that.

I must get out! I scream to the flames. The inferno does not listen to me, but it feeds off my urgency, my rage. The light grows brighter; the heat becomes hotter. Like a dog excited by its master’s enthusiasm, it reacts.

I stumble forward, banging my fists against the porthole cover, but it is sealed. I might as well try to break through the walls of Agogia with my bare hands. I am trapped. Mentally, I sweep my senses over myself, studying the burning red reserve that is my Unrelenting Fire Heart. It swirls vibrantly, bulging as if about to burst. Its colors are rich and vibrant like a ripe fruit.

I am so close.

My fist hammers on the glass. I feel something in me break, but I do not stop. I will not relent. In my head, I see Anas broken and bloody. I see Alessandra… I cannot bear to look at what my own traitorous mind shows me.

Something is missing. I cast my mind back to the first time I became Silver. I remember what I had to do to finally break through the barrier that held me. I know what I need to do; I am just scared. What if I cannot control it? What if I let it burn me out before my work is done? But fear is just the chain to the anchor that holds me down. To go up, I must be free.

At last, I let go. I welcome the fury.

I Ascend.

Strength flows through me as my body adapts. I have already been remade physically as an argentum, and yet somehow, I am remade again. I am already Silver, and yet now I carry another layer, making me more.

My Cor expands, growing to almost match the size of my other two. A great pressure lifts from my shoulders as the strain of my mismatched Hearts fades. Despite the danger, I throw back my head and laugh as I feel the balance align in my mind and body for the first time in months.

I am by no means free. I still carry three Symbols that pull at me with their disparate natures. But for now, I am as whole as I can be.

Reveling in my new power, I turn my attention to the sealed portholes that cut me off from my companions. I extend my hands, sweeping my senses through the organism of fire that fills this furnace, seeking an escape.

The tempered glass is thick, designed to withstand the blistering temperatures that the Foundry operates at. But what is its limit, I wonder? Gritting my teeth, I extend my hands, pouring my animus into the bed of coal that I stand on. Air swirls around me, feeding the flames. Yet I sense there is more potential here, waiting only to be lit.

I reach low, breathing my will into the dormant coals, commanding them to ignite. A rumble runs through the fuel as it fully joins the inferno. I gather myself, pumping more essence into the rising conflagration like a bellows.

Fire leaps up the smokestacks, far higher than it has ever traveled before. The ancient inferno delights in this, like a captivus who is one step closer to escaping their prison. Again, I channel my will into the base, feeding it my need, my desperation, and my rage.

The furnace shakes, rattling under the pressure of holding a monster it was never designed to contain. The hydra is awake, and it is ready to be free. Something in me senses that the fire is ready. It has grown into what I need: unstable and unstoppable.

I gather it with my mind, forming it into a ball above my right hand. As I did with its weaker cousin in the training room, I collapse it inward, building it into something more. My newly Ascended Silver veins begin to strain as the attack forms. I have never controlled power like this on my own. When I carried the storm of Aquilo, I was only a messenger—now I am the fulcrum.

When I can contain the maelstrom no longer, I hurl it forward. The furnace shudders like a fortress gate being struck by a battering ram as it slams into the tempered glass. The heat dissipates, and I cast my senses over it, trying to evaluate the damage.

I cannot feel the glass, but I can sense the tiny tongues of flame that escape out of the cracks that have begun to form on its surface. A grim smile spreads across my face. I raise my hand once more, beginning to gather another focused blast.

This place cannot contain us.

Me. This place cannot contain me. I have to shake myself to separate from the awareness that surrounds me. I am Castor, son of Evander and Julia. I am Frigus Ventus, the Cold Wind. I am the living hand of Nemesis. I am not the Unrelenting Fire, but its master.

My veins stretch once more as I push myself beyond my limits to condense as much of the inferno into a single point as I can. I think I am screaming, but I cannot hear myself over the roar of the fire. My will slams into the barrier once more. Soot and rubble rain down from the tops of the smokestacks as they shake from the force of my attack.

Fire flows freely through gaps in the porthole cover now. Soon we will be free. One more blow.

Panting with exertion, I raise both hands, using them as a combined focus for this final attack. My Unrelenting Fire Cor reserve has grown—already it almost matches my Iron one in size and density. This time, I reach through the entire furnace, pulling in every scrap of flame that I can touch.

I push myself far beyond my limits. My veins burn hotter than the inferno around me as they struggle to keep up with the demands of my will, but I will not be stopped. I cannot breathe. I cannot think. There is no room for me to do anything except hold this single working.

I take it all, every tongue of flame, and focus it into a single ball the size of my head. It burns like a second Sol above me. Its strength is tearing me apart, threatening to consume me. Its heat is so strong that my attunement to Unrelenting Fire can no longer completely protect me from its wrath.

Grunting with exertion, I throw the ball of fire at the porthole cover. I feel the impact as the glass shatters and gives way. My flames pour through the opening and into the Foundry itself.

For a moment, I stand on top of the coal, catching my breath as the fire reignites and spreads within the furnace. Something awakens, and I feel its animus rake across me like the hand of a god. The force of its will almost drives me to my knees. My senses push back, following it to the thing that lives within the fire.

My jaw drops as I realize that a mythi lurks within this maelstrom. Unrelenting Fire paints it easily, for it is covered in the same fire I am. At first, I think it is a Salamandra, a massive lizard the length of a horse. But as I study it, I realize it is more like a serpent. It lurks deep beneath the coals in a cave that it has made for itself, living among the heat. Thick scales cover its body, from its angular head to its tail. Power that far supersedes my own radiates from it.

The creature reminds me of the giant ice worm that came when I Ascended with Ancient Frost in the depths of the North. Like then, this fantastic creature that is also tied to Cor does not attack but studies me. For a moment, I consider digging through the floor to its cave to meet this godling of fire. What secrets could I learn from it?

Concern for my companions hounds me, driving me forward like a teamster with a whip. I have no time for the mysteries buried here. I leap forward, ducking out of the exit, and step out of the inferno into the regular world.

Pandemonium reigns outside my fiery cocoon. A dozen little fires have caught on fuel piles as the escaping pieces of the foundry’s fire gorge themselves on fresh tinder. In the center of the room, two men stand around Anas, blades drawn as they try to corner the former legionnaire.

My friend bleeds from a dozen shallow cuts, but his gladius is still in hand, and he stands tall. My gaze snaps to the side, where another man has Alessandra cornered on the second floor of the metal catwalk. The Pelias heir has my swords in her hands and a defiant look on her face.

As I emerge, her assailant’s head turns, and he stares at me in wild disbelief.

The light from my fires is harsh and bright, but I do not need them. I would know his features in the darkest night; they are seared into my memory. His name is written in my mind in blood.

Brennus Valerus, scion of Domus Valerus and Macer’s killer, stands before me, sword drawn. He and his men must have been keeping watch over the compound and followed us here. It seems not even the word of the Empress is enough to keep him from trying to salvage his pride.

“You!” he shouts, his voice echoing in the empty Foundry. He does not ask where I came from or how I survived my time inside the furnace. He sees only the target of his anger and moves toward it. When we were in the legions, we competed for the same honor. How small he seems now.

He turns his back on Alessandra and leaps from the second story of the catwalk to land before me. His Silver strength allows his knees to absorb his weight from the fall easily, and he rises to his full height as he stalks toward me. Whatever his mission was here, seeing me has distracted him.

“I owe you a thousand cuts, Gladiator.” He spits as he twirls his gladius through a fancy spin. He does not wear a lorica, just a set of fighting leathers that almost match my own. But he has a sword, and I do not.

For now.

“That’s funny,” I reply, tilting my head to watch the Fidelis. “I owe you a few more too, Brennus.”

“You will call me Dominus!” his voice thunders, loud and petulant.

“You don’t recognize me, do you?”

“Did I not say that I owed you a painful death?” He laughs as if I am the idiot in this conversation. Above us, Alessandra makes her way along the catwalk moving toward me. It is an easy thing for me to track her progress with my Silver senses as she carries my swords. Brennus does not react, too distracted by our conversation.

“Oh, we met before Antioch.” I smile as his expression clouds with confusion. “You murdered my friend Macer in Agogia. I watched Gaius Marius whip you bloody, and I dream of doing it myself.”

The Praetorian’s face goes pale at my words. His eyes narrow as he studies my face, then widen as he realizes what my long hair has kept hidden. “But you’re… you’re dead like the rest of them.”

“I guess it didn’t take.” I shrug. Above me, Alessandra tosses my pair of gladii down to me. I catch each one out of the air without looking.

“Abominatio,” he whispers in horror, finally realizing that he has seen me use two different Symbols. The fear in his eyes is almost delicious. I force myself to ignore its savory taste. I am not here to torment him but to execute judgment.

“Come, Faithful.” I scourge him with the Fidelis title he stole from me. “Let us see how you fare in a fight against one of your own.”