The room at the Anvil's Rest was quiet, dimly lit by the moonlight filtering through thin curtains. Aelira was curled on the edge of her bed, one hand under her pillow, blades within reach. Helios leaned against the wall in the corner, shield propped beside him, arms crossed and eyes shut, but not asleep.
I couldn't sleep. The city buzzed in my veins. Firewatch was loud and strange and filled with more life than I knew what to do with. I slipped on my cloak, moved softly past the creaking wood floor, and eased open the door.
Outside, the market had quieted. The air smelled of iron and soot. Fewer voices. More shadows.
I needed the night. Needed space to breathe.
I wandered through the back alleys of Silvergate, tracing walls stained with soot and flickering lamplight. My fingers brushed the edge of a cold brick wall as I turned a corner—and froze.
They were waiting.
Three of them stepped out from behind crates and barrels — cloaks ragged, boots worn, but eyes sharp and hungry.
"You look lost," one said, grinning through crooked teeth. "This ain't a place for rich boys with pretty braids."
I said nothing, watching their hands. One held a baton. Another had knuckle-dusters. No blades yet, but I wasn't naïve.
"What's in the coat, Braid's boy?" another asked, stepping closer. "Gold? Letters from your noble mommy?"
"I don't want trouble," I said calmly.
"But trouble wants you," a new voice rumbled from the shadows behind them.
The three parted, and a fourth man emerged — taller, broader, his skin like polished obsidian, his green eyes gleaming. He had short hair, thick forearms, and the stance of someone who knew exactly how to end a fight.
"You from the wilds?" He said.
"Who's asking?"
"Kwame. You might've heard of me." He flexed a hand, and faint sparks crackled across his knuckles.
I didn't back away. "Should I have?"
He laughed. "Bold. I like that."
Then he nodded and the three rushed me.
I moved.
No weapon. Just instinct.
I ducked under the first swing, caught a punch with my forearm, and drove my elbow into a ribcage. One staggered. Another caught me with a hit across the shoulder, but I twisted, grabbed his arm, and used his momentum to send him crashing into a crate.
The third grabbed my cloak, mistake. I spun, wrapped the fabric around his arm, yanked him forward, and drove my knee into his stomach.
But Kwame didn't move. He just watched me — head tilted slightly, green eyes glinting in the dark.
I stood, chest heaving, the echo of my last strike still buzzing in my limbs. Around me, the three thugs groaned, one curled in a heap, another bleeding from the mouth. I was breathing hard — not from exhaustion, but from the cold spike of adrenaline flooding my veins.
"Not bad," Kwame said finally, stepping forward. "But now it's my turn."
He closed the distance with terrifying speed for a man of his size — no warning, no wasted motion. His right arm cocked back like a piston, then shot forward in a blur.
I barely dropped under the blow.
The air above my head cracked like a whip as his fist sliced past — fast enough to stir my hair. I felt the pressure of it, like a wall of wind. No time to think.
I struck low, aiming a fast jab toward his gut, but it was like punching an iron statue. My knuckles met muscle so dense it barely gave. Kwame's hand snapped up, grabbed my forearm mid-strike with unnatural precision, and twisted.
Pain lanced up my arm as he wrenched it behind me.
Then he lifted me feet off the ground and slammed me back-first into the cobblestones. The impact sent a shockwave through my ribs, a flash of white behind my eyes.
I choked on air. My body screamed.
Kwame loomed over me, shoulders broad as a doorframe, lightning flickering faintly along his arms. "You've got fight, I'll give you that," he said. "But this city's mine. You don't walk through Firewatch without learning the rules."
He raised his fist again, sparks crawling over his knuckles like fireflies.
And then a shadow fell across him.
Helios.
He didn't announce himself. He didn't ask questions. He simply moved.
Kwame barely had time to turn before Helios barreled into him, shield-first. The impact was brutal like a battering ram hitting flesh and bone. Kwame flew back, crashing into the alley wall with a sickening crunch. The stone cracked behind him.
Dust showered down.
"Get up," Helios growled, stepping over me like a wall of armor and fury.
Kwame staggered to his feet, blood trickling from his lip. His grin was gone.
"You his keeper?"
"I'm his hammer," Helios snarled, raising the shield again. "You think this city gives you permission to lay hands on my brother?"
Lightning coiled around Kwame's arms, wilder now, more chaotic. "You really wanna do this?"
"You touched family," Helios said coldly. "That means you're done talking."
Aelira skidded into view, eyes wide. "Helios—wait!"
He didn't.
She grabbed at his arm. "Think, dammit. You want to fight a district leader in the middle of his turf?"
Kwame chuckled, wiping his lip. "District leader? Not yet, girl. But thanks for the prophecy."
Aelira hissed. "If you fight him now, the whole city will come down on us."
Helios's voice was quiet steel. "Then let it."
He broke free of her grip — and charged.
Kwame met him halfway.
Their collision was thunder. Helios swung his shield like a slab of iron, but Kwame ducked and drove a lightning-charged uppercut into Helios's ribs. The metal of the breastplate sparked violently, a blast of heat washing through the alley.
Helios grunted but didn't fall. He answered with a shield bash that sent Kwame staggering backward.
Kwame pivoted, fluid and fast, and slammed a spinning elbow into Helios's temple. The force turned Helios's head with a crack. Blood ran down from his brow.
Helios blinked the daze away.
Then he roared.
He lunged again, catching Kwame in a shoulder rush that lifted him clean off the ground and planted him into the opposite wall. Mortar split. Bricks crumbled.
Kwame wheezed but grinned through blood. "You hit like a golem."
Helios stepped in. "You bleed like anyone else."
They clashed again fists, shield, lightning, raw fury. Each strike was a quake, each block a small explosion. Kwame spun low, kicked at Helios's knee, connected but the bigger man absorbed it, lifted his leg mid-strike and stomped down on Kwame's foot with a crunch.
Kwame snarled and retaliated with a blinding arc of electricity across Helios's chest. The shock sent a ripple of light through his armor — but he powered through it, using the momentum to drive a brutal uppercut with his shield's edge.
Kwame reeled, staggered.
Helios stepped in close, grabbed him by the chest with his free hand, and slammed him onto the ground. The cobblestones shattered beneath them.
Kwame gasped, limbs twitching from the electricity still coursing through him. He tried to rise — but Helios didn't give him the chance.
One final, thunderous shield bash struck him square in the chest and sent him sliding into the far wall.
Dust settled.
Kwame coughed, wheezed, and propped himself up with one shaking arm. Thunder still hummed in his shoulders.
Helios stood over him, eyes burning.
"Next time," he growled, "I won't stop."
Kwame laughed hoarsely. "Then make sure you hit harder."
Aelira shoved her way between them, chest heaving. "Enough. You've both made your point."
Kwame leaned back against the wall, breathing hard. "Not bad, big boy."
Helios grunted, then turned, knelt, and helped me to my feet.
We didn't speak.
We just limped away together, one arm over his shoulder. Behind us, the alley smoked and sparked with the memory of battle.
Firewatch wasn't just alive anymore.
It was awake.