SPIRITBINDER: The Boy Without A Mark
Chapter 62: Esmael’s Fiery Inferno

Chapter 62: Esmael’s Fiery Inferno

The night burned with unrelenting heat as the battle raged on. Esmael’s fiery attacks came faster, more intense with every strike, the flames roaring and painting the ruins in a flickering orange glow. Despite the danger, Vianna moved with calculated grace, her movements fluid and precise, as though she were toying with the flames.

Her smirk was faint but present, a sign of her confidence. "Is this the best you’ve got, Esmael? You’ll have to do better if you think this rage will bring me down."

Esmael growled, his frustration flaring alongside his fire. "Don’t mock me!" he roared, unleashing a massive wave of flame. It surged toward Vianna, but she leapt high into the air, flipping gracefully before landing behind him.

"Mock you?" Vianna said coolly, her voice calm even amidst the chaos. "I’m simply showing you that your anger won’t make you stronger—it makes you reckless."

Her taunt hit its mark. Esmael’s strikes became wilder, each attack fueled more by emotion than precision. His fire tore through the remnants of the ruined house, embers scattering like angry fireflies in the wind.

"Stop provoking him!" Morvane shouted, watching the destructive power of Esmael’s flames. "You’re only making it worse!"

But Vianna didn’t respond. She remained focused, dodging and weaving through the inferno with almost inhuman agility.

Then, in a sudden twist of fate, one of Esmael’s stray flames lashed out—not at Vianna, but at Luna. The fire struck her arm, searing through fabric and skin. Luna let out a cry of pain, clutching her burned arm as she stumbled back, her face contorted in agony.

The sound of her scream froze Esmael mid-attack. His flames flickered, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes widened in shock. "Luna!" he cried, his voice trembling. "I... I didn’t mean to—"

Luna winced, looking at him through the pain. "Esmael..." she whispered weakly.

Morvane ran to her side, his hands trembling as he tried to examine her injury. His voice cracked with desperation. "Esmael, stop this! You’re hurting the people who care about you! Can’t you see what you’re doing?"

But Esmael’s face twisted again, the flicker of guilt in his eyes swallowed by the flames of his rage. "I can’t stop!" he shouted, his voice raw. "This fire... it’s all I have left! If I stop now, what’s left of me?"

His flames erupted again, hotter and more powerful than before, as if his guilt had only fed his fury. Morvane shouted, "Esmael, please! Don’t do this!"

But Esmael charged forward, his target still Vianna. "I’ll end this before you manipulate me again!" he roared, his fiery fists slamming into the ground where Vianna had been moments before.

Vianna, now standing on a fallen beam, narrowed her gaze. Her voice carried a commanding tone. "You’re so consumed by your emotions that you’re blind to the damage you’re causing. Even to the ones you love."

Esmael froze for a split second, his eyes darting to Luna, who was still clutching her burned arm, and to Morvane, who was looking at him with pleading eyes. His flames faltered for just a moment.

But the rage returned, his emotions too overwhelming to contain. With a furious cry, Esmael unleashed a devastating blast of fire, the heat so intense that even Vianna’s usually calm expression faltered.

"This is it," Vianna muttered under her breath. She crouched, preparing herself for whatever came next.

Luna gritted her teeth, clutching her burned arm tightly as the pain throbbed through her. But she closed her eyes, focusing her energy. A soft golden glow began to emanate from her hands as she chanted under her breath. Slowly, the wound on her arm started to heal, the charred flesh mending itself.

"Easy," Morvane said, kneeling beside her. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her as she swayed slightly from the effort. "You don’t have to rush. I’m here."

Luna gave him a faint smile through the pain. "I’ll be fine," she whispered. "We have bigger problems right now."

Morvane looked toward the battlefield, his heart sinking. Esmael’s rage burned brighter than ever, and Vianna was still weaving through the inferno with skill and precision, but the strain was starting to show on her face.

Unseen by all but Morvane, the faint shimmer of a spirit lingered at the edge of the chaos. Esmael’s mother, her translucent form flickering like a candle in the wind, stood watching the battle unfold. Her face was a mixture of sorrow and desperation. She called out, her voice full of anguish, "Stop this! Please, stop this madness!"

But her words fell unheard to all except Morvane, who froze, his eyes widening as he realized what he was seeing.

The spirit of Esmael’s mother raised her hands, as if trying to reach her son, but she was powerless to intervene. Tears streamed down her ghostly cheeks. "Esmael, my son," she cried, "this isn’t you! Stop before it’s too late!"

At that moment, Vianna saw her opening. Esmael, mid-attack, faltered for just a moment, his flames dipping as he lost focus. Vianna’s sharp gaze locked onto his. In that instant, her power took hold.

Esmael’s body froze, his eyes widening as Vianna’s piercing gaze rooted him in place. His flames sputtered and died, and his breathing grew shallow. His vision blurred, and the world around him seemed to spin.

"Stop," Vianna commanded, her voice cutting through the haze of his mind like a blade.

Esmael’s knees buckled as tears spilled down his cheeks, unbidden. His anger, his pain, everything he had been holding inside came crashing down all at once. He collapsed to the ground, unconscious, his body finally giving in to the strain.

Vianna stepped forward, her hand glowing faintly as she prepared to strike, to ensure Esmael couldn’t rise again and unleash more destruction. But just as she was about to act, Morvane’s voice rang out.

"Vianna, stop!"

Her hand hovered in the air, inches from Esmael’s chest. She turned sharply to Morvane, her eyes narrowing. "Why? He’s too dangerous to leave unchecked!"

But Morvane wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were locked on the faint, flickering form of Esmael’s mother. She was clinging to Esmael’s unconscious body, her translucent arms wrapped tightly around him.

"His mother," Morvane said, his voice barely above a whisper. "She’s here."

Vianna’s gaze followed his, her expression unreadable as she saw nothing. But something in Morvane’s voice gave her pause. Slowly, she lowered her hand, stepping back.

The spirit of Esmael’s mother looked at Morvane, her tear-streaked face filled with gratitude. She whispered softly, "You can leave him alone now."

Vianna hesitated, still casting a lingering glance at Esmael, who lay unconscious, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. His mother’s spirit still clung to him, her ghostly form shimmering like a fading dream.

"I still need to make sure," Vianna murmured, taking a tentative step toward Esmael’s body, her eyes scanning him for any signs of danger. But as she moved, her gaze flickered to Morvane, whose eyes were locked on the spirit.

But Morvane was already shaking his head, his face conflicted. "No," he said quietly, his voice almost too soft for Vianna to hear. "Let him rest."

Vianna’s brow furrowed, uncertainty crossing her features. "We can’t linger here too long. Medas might be watching, or worse, someone else might come looking for you." Her voice was firm, but it carried a sense of urgency. "You’ve seen your grandmother and your friends. We need to leave. Now."

Morvane took a slow breath, his gaze softening as he nodded. "You’re right. We can’t stay here. But I can’t leave without telling him something."

Vianna paused, confused. "What are you talking about?"

Morvane turned to her, his expression steady yet filled with resolve. "I have to tell him what his mother’s spirit said. It’s important." He knelt beside Esmael’s unconscious form, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Even if he can’t hear me now, I have to tell him."

Vianna watched him closely, sensing the depth of his words, the weight of his responsibility. She stood back for a moment, contemplating the situation, then sighed. "If that’s what you feel is necessary," she said reluctantly, "I’ll wait."

Morvane placed his other hand gently on Esmael’s forehead, closing his eyes. "Esmael," he whispered, his voice soft but clear. "Your mother’s spirit is here. She watches over you." His voice wavered slightly, but he continued. "She says she’s not angry at you. She doesn’t blame you for the fire, and she’s sorry for not being there to help you. She wishes she could’ve stopped it all, but now, she wants you to know—there’s still time. You don’t have to let the rage control you. You can still find peace, Esmael."

He lingered there for a moment, his breath steady as he silently wished for his words to reach Esmael in some way.

As Morvane stood and stepped back, he turned to Vianna. "I’ve said what I needed to say. Now, we can go."

Vianna nodded, her face unreadable. "Let’s go, then. We don’t have much time."

But before they could leave, Morvane took one last glance at Esmael, his heart heavy with guilt and regret. "I hope you can hear me, Esmael. I hope you can find peace."

As Vianna and Morvane turned to leave, the weight of the moment still heavy in the air, the silence of the night seemed to grow thicker. The faint flickering of Esmael’s mother’s spirit was the only light in the surrounding darkness, her form slowly fading as if she too had come to terms with the events.

Vianna glanced at Morvane, a wordless understanding passing between them as they prepared to depart. The village still held dangers, and they couldn’t afford to linger much longer.

But just as they turned toward the path that would lead them away from the ruins, a sudden rustling broke the stillness. A figure stepped from the shadows, emerging from the darkness with the precision of someone who had been waiting, watching.

The figure’s silhouette was obscured by the low light, but the sharpness of their presence was undeniable. Morvane’s hand instinctively reached for his blade, his posture tensing as he prepared for the unknown.

Vianna’s eyes narrowed, her gaze hardening as she assessed the figure in front of them. "Who’s there?" she called out, her voice calm but commanding.

A low, almost melodic voice emerged from the shadows. "You’re leaving so soon?"

The figure stepped forward, revealing their form in the dim light. Their features were obscured by a cloak, but the glint of their eyes, sharp and cold, pierced through the darkness.

Morvane’s grip on his sword tightened. "Who are you?"

The figure didn’t answer immediately, instead taking another step forward, their gaze flickering to both Vianna and Morvane, studying them with a strange, unsettling interest.

"Let’s just say..." the figure’s voice trailed off, a slow smile curling on their lips. "I’ve been keeping an eye on you both. And I think it’s time we had a little chat."

Vianna took a step forward, her eyes narrowing even more. "We don’t have time for games. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave now."

The figure’s smile only deepened, their presence growing more imposing with every word they spoke. "Oh, but you see... I think we’re going to be very... acquainted in the near future."