Horses screamed and metal clanged. A fire roared, eating up everything in its path.
Zarreil whirled around, trying to block the sword that arched toward his neck. Fire danced in his eyes, reflecting the flames around him. He embraced the fire, willed it to grow and consume, to protect her.
He felt Fian, sensed where the stallion was, galloping through the flames. His mane and tail were blazing with the fire, alighting his enemies aflame. Men screamed, and through the smoke Zarreil glimpsed a storm raging. Lightning cracked, and the falling rain formed a wall. He could see his sister and brother, mounted upon a single mare galloping towards the city. He prayed the White Rider would watch over them.
He sighed, the power of the flames too much for him. He blocked a few strikes and delivered a few of his own, but it was too much. Fian lent him strength, and he used it to set fire to his sword, cutting down the men attacking him.
Suddenly he felt a prick in his neck. He reached up and pulled out a dart. Throwing it to the ground, he raised his sword to continue fighting. Before he could, he felt Fian’s life force flicker and fade. A searing pain ripped through his whole being, and he screamed as his bond shattered. He felt so empty, so broken. Flames burst around him, and instead of running from them, he let them lick across his body. He didn’t feel them burning his skin; he was numb. As the fire reached his chest, he gasped. As the world around him dimmed, a great light shined from somewhere Else. Feeling left him, every emotion except one: Love. He surrendered then, giving himself over to the Pure One as his physical life left him.