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The temple was burning around them.
The air shimmered with heat, and the stone floor beneath their boots glowed red-hot in places where the elemental’s flames had licked through. Rubble smoked, walls buckled, and above it all - roaring, furious - a creature of fire and vengeance raged in service of the mage who had freed it.
Who controlled it.
Fjord’s falchion sliced through the elemental’s arm, but the fire simply folded around the wound, reforming. It lashed out, sending Fjord skidding across the scorched floor. He pushed himself up, chest heaving. They were getting picked apart - bit by bit.
And still, behind it all, that damned mage watched, waiting, protected by a shell of flickering flame and layered enchantments. His eyes were like twin coals, body outlined in that magical blaze that shielded him from every weapon they threw. Every spell they cast.
“Yasha! With me!” Beau shouted, circling wide.
Taking out the mage would have been the logical focus. No master, no servant. Simple. Except anyone who got anywhere near the man was targeted by the flaming fists of the elemental and then ended up not even being able to do any damage to the damn wizard anyway. Caleb and Jester had both already tried to dispel whatever enchantments protected their enemy, twice, to no avail. And all the while the inferno of a beast kept burning them all alive.
There was also the possibility that killing the wizard would just leave the fire elemental there, hostile but with no master.
There weren't a ton of great options.
“On it!” Yasha called out, closing in with Beauregard.
Fjord tightened his grip on his falchion, feeling sweat sting his eyes. His own magic had been nearly wrung dry; his blade hummed with lingering eldritch energy, but it wasn’t enough.
Once their heavy hitters were on top of the thing, a bolt shot out from the shadows. And then another. Fjord couldn't see Veth, but that was a good thing. Because then their enemies couldn't either. Except -
The mage turned, smile sharp as a blade.
“Oh, there you are. I see you now. But tell me - can you see me?”
He flicked his hand. The spell hit before the words even landed.
A scream from the shadows.
"I can't see! What the fuck did you do to me?"
The man had blinded their sharpshooter.
Downstairs, in their initial encounter, the mage had slowed Beauregard and polymorphed Yasha into a harmless grey and white rabbit. He'd attempted to silence Caleb, but thankfully their own wizard had countered that spell. Having a rabid fire elemental on a leash was bad enough, but this man was tactical. He was targeting them in all the right, or well, wrong, ways.
Yasha was bloodied, breathing hard, and even Beau had slowed down as she advanced, one leg dragging slightly. Caduceus and Jester were calling on their last reserves to just keep them standing.
And Caleb -
Fjord’s eyes snapped to the wizard just in time to see him stumble, one hand braced against the cracked pillar at the center of the room.
“Caleb!” Fjord shouted. “You alright?”
No answer.
Just the faintest shake of a head, as if he couldn’t spare the breath.
Fjord saw him reach into his pouch, fingers brushing over components with trembling hands. His lips moved, but the words caught, choked off.
Caleb had nothing left.
Fjord knew it. He could see the difference in his stance, the slow sag of someone whose arcane well had run dry.
Fjord had never tried to push past his arcane limits. Wasn't sure he would've been able to. But Caleb? Brilliantly stupid Caleb?
Well.
Fuck.
They'd been in near nonstop battles since breakfast. Caleb had bargained with the group earlier to give him time to perform a few rituals when they were initially investigating the temple. Even though they were short on time. Sure, Caleb preferred using ritual magic when he could to conserve energy and magic, but he'd been pretty insistent this time. So that well was already running dry before this last fight, if Fjord was guessing correctly. And then there had been the fireball, the second fireball, polymorphing himself and Caduceus into eagles to avoid falling to their deaths in that trap, polymorphing into a giant ape to keep himself in the fight when he was half-dead, hasting Beauregard when she was cornered, slowing the enemies when a group had Veth separated from the rest of the team in their retreat, and more Fjord had missed because yeah, it was one hell of a fight.
For awhile after all that, Caleb had stuck to finding cover and casting simple firebolts as the team weaved their way back out of the ruins. But the retreat was going about as well as the battle down below had been.
You know, seeing as they'd ascended that final staircase only to find the mage - the very same one they'd run from all the way down, down, under the temple - teleported upstairs and waiting for them.
With a summoned fire elemental at his side of course.
Caleb straightened his back and for one fleeting moment, Fjord met the wizard's bloodshot eyes.
Fjord knew the look. He’d seen it before - on others, in himself. The signs of someone holding too much alone. Someone burning the candle from both ends because they had to, because there was no other choice.
Because someone had to do something, and they decided it would be them.
Fjord recognized some of Caleb's spell semantics by now. The delicate maneuvering of fingers, tracing invisible arcane shapes and glyphs and power into the air - into existence. Caduceus' gestures were always calmly measured, evenly flowing. Jester's hands bounced and danced, like her magic was her own sort of music. Caleb - Caleb's movements were sharp. Determined. Everything precise and practiced and with no room for error or hesitation. For someone who spent so much time curled in on themselves, shoulders hunched and trying for the life of him to become invisible, Caleb was different when he was using magic in combat. His back was straight. His eyes were clear and focused. And everything from his stance to his voice flared with confidence. With power.
It hadn't always been like that. Those times were reserved for when Veth went down or someone hurt Frumpkin. But now, as time had passed, Fjord had watched Caleb grow. He just hoped that confidence, or whatever it was, would someday show up outside of a fight.
For now, though, it was progress. For now, it was enough.
Shoulders back, despite how much his chest was heaving, Caleb drew something in the space in front him, fingers cutting through the air.
Something pulsed, and then flickered, around the mage, tiny shining fissures cracking and crawling across the magic barrier until it just - shattered.
There was a beat, a breath, and then -
"Fuck him up!"
Beau and Yasha leapt at the wizard, tearing him down almost too easily now.
A stream of eldritch blasts and sacred flames descended upon the elemental, but it stood strong. Defiant and somehow burning wilder now without its master.
Jester was sent sprawling, screaming and smoking and clutching the left side of her torso. Veth, too, had blindly wandered too close, catching a face full of cinders and ash. Yasha and Beauregard were rearing around, burned and bloody and barely alive, but ready to face off against the flames.
Again, Caleb reached - desperately - for the last dregs of his strength.
And he didn’t stop.
Like the last ember in a soaked hearth - smoldering, stubborn, but fading fast.
He dug deep - past exhaustion, past sense. Fjord opened his mouth to tell the wizard to stop but then Caleb's voice rose, weak at first, then steadier, harder, as he pushed the spell into existence by force of will alone.
The diamond spun in his hands.
The spell took shape with a violent thrum. Not the smooth, controlled casting Caleb was known for - this was raw, jagged, a forced thing. The magic fought him as he bent it to his will.
It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t smooth.
But just like Caleb - it was enough.
The fire elemental turned just in time to catch a chromatic orb of cold magic full in the chest, the crackling scream of boiling steam splitting the air as ice clashed with flame. The creature howled, stumbling back, limbs shattering as its core crystallized and broke apart under the force of the magic.
The elemental fell, hissing and cracking.
And so did Caleb.
He caught himself on one knee, wheezing, one arm trembling under the strain.
And then, body giving out fully beneath him, Caleb crumpled.
Fjord had already started running. He reached the wizard before Caleb hit the ground, catching him with one arm and easing him down, carefully. Eyes fluttered underneath a furrowed brow, unfocused. His lips moved but there was no sound.
"Shit - Caleb, hey. Stay with me." Fjord pressed a hand to the man's chest, anchoring himself maybe more than the man on ground. "You're okay."
But Caleb didn't respond.
He was too warm. Not just feverish, but the kind of heat that felt spent - like the ash left over when a flame burns itself out.
Fjord looked over his shoulder, towards the others regrouping, burned and bloodied and bruised - but alive.
The ruins of the temple still hissed with smoke, the sharp tang of scorched stone and ozone lingering in the air. Rubble lay scattered across the crackled floor like teeth pulled from the earth itself. Somewhere behind them, Yasha was tending to Beauregard's dislocated shoulder with a grunt and a snap, while Veth muttered and cursed, all while Caduceus attempted to get the halfling to sit down for one moment please so he could do something about the little case of, oh you know, blindness, the opposing mage had set upon her. Jester was digging around in everyone's bags, with or without their consent, for any potions of healing, wincing as she moved.
No one else had noticed their downed friend yet.
Except Fjord.
Maybe it was because they weren't halfway across the temple like everyone else.
Or maybe it was because Fjord had been purposefully paying closer attention to their resident wizard lately.
Three days earlier, Fjord had noticed it: the long hours, the quiet pacing when the others slept, the way Caleb would run his fingers over his spellbook like a man trying to memorize every line before a storm.
It wasn't unusual, not for Caleb. But this was - different? worse? more? - than normal.
He was pushing himself too hard. Preparing for something.
Fjord hadn't said anything then.
He was certainly going to now.
"Hey," he spoke gently, placing a hand on Caleb's shoulder.
The wizard startled - barely - but enough to come to some form of consciousness. Enough to break Fjord's heart a little. The man was so far gone he flinched at a friend's touch. That sort of thing hadn't happened in a long time with him now.
Caleb peeled open one red eye.
"Fjord," he croaked, "Did we...?"
Gods.
He was worse off than Fjord had thought.
"We made it," Fjord swallowed, keeping his voice level, "thanks to you."
Caleb gave something of a shaky exhale - half laugh, half collapse.
"Ah, das - good."
And then his head tipped back, resting partially against the wall, and partially in the crook of Fjord's elbow. The wizard's cheeks were sunken, drained of color. Though the rest of his face was ashen, two dark half-moons hung low underneath his eyes, carved starkly against sharp cheekbones. His clothes were singed at the edges and despite their lingering jokes, Caleb had grown to take better care of his appearance. Fjord had thought the same had applied to taking better care of himself too.
Apparently not.
Blood trailed from one nostril, drying along Caleb's upper lip. It could have been from a hit, or overexertion. It was difficult to say.
Beau was usually the one to drag Caleb up after scrapes like this. She'd sling an arm over those scrawny shoulders and say something sarcastic and it didn't fix anything, didn't fix Caleb, but it at least seemed like something. Seemed like enough. It used to be Molly too. Molly who kissed Caleb's forehead and told jokes even as the wizard was staring off into some great distance none of them could possibly see. Caduceus has taken up the job a few times now, hefting the human to his unstable feet with low, calm words of encouragement and maybe a touch of healing magic. Veth couldn't exactly pick up someone twice her size, but she would offer support: let him lean against her, hold his hand.
Fjord wasn't all too good at...this.
“You alright?”
It was a useless question. About as useless as Fjord felt right about then.
"'M - ja," Caleb slurred.
“Bullshit,” Fjord muttered.
Across the ruined room, Beau’s voice echoed toward them, sharp and worried.
“Hey! You two alright over there?”
Fjord turned to answer - but the ground groaned beneath them.
The sound was deep. Wrong. Like something waking up beneath the stone.
Both men froze.
Rubble shifted. A thick, dry breath of air came from the far end of the temple - dust trailing in swirling, lazy spirals from cracks above.
Caleb’s hand instinctively moved toward his components, but Fjord caught his wrist.
“Easy. I don’t think it’s something new.”
The rumble rose to a roar.
A beam above them split straight down the middle.
“Shit -!”
Stone crashed from above, splitting the room in two. A cloud of choking dust filled the air as a chunk of ceiling collapsed, followed by the remnants of two crumbling columns. Rubble spilled across the floor between Fjord and Caleb and the rest of the group, sealing off the passage with a grinding finality.
Beau’s voice was faint on the other side now. “Fjord? Caleb?!”
A few of the others were shouting their names too, muffled by the initial ringing in his ears.
Fjord coughed once, waving the dust from his eyes. He called back, loud as he could without shouting.
“We’re alright! Just blocked in!”
"Caleb! Caleb!" Veth's voice was frantic. "I can't see him!"
"None of us can right now," Beau retorted.
"Oh my gods - is he dead?"
"He's fine!" Fjord echoed that same lie Caleb had given him just moments prior.
"Tell," Caleb coughed, grimacing, voice small, "tell Veth - the spell - temporary - should wear off in four, three, t-two -"
"Oh! Oh! Hey! I can see again!" Veth's voice rang out, too loud for Fjord's liking when ceilings and things were falling in here. "Oh my - Caleb! He's trapped! Fjord's not nearly strong enough to dig -"
“I could get them out.” Yasha interrupted.
Fjord eyed the debris. It’d take time. And Caleb…he wasn’t moving fast anytime soon.
"No," he replied, "we all need to get out before more of this place comes down on top of us. We'll find another way. Meet up outside if we can."
A pause.
“Alright." Yasha's voice was steady, but there was something else there. "Be careful.”
The others called out their goodbyes and words of encouragement - and Veth might have threatened Fjord with detailed, graphic, bodily harm while he slept if he let anything happen to Caleb - before the sound of boots and voices faded away.
Fjord looked back at Caleb, still slumped, half-conscious.
He exhaled slowly.
“Guess it’s just us now.”
"Es tut -"
"Hey, none of that."
Fjord didn't speak Zemnian, but he knew enough about Caleb to recognize guilt when he saw it creep up in those all-too familiar places there in the lines of his frown and the clench of his jaw. Fjord would have probably seen it flickering and raw in the other man's eyes too - if Caleb had enough energy to open them more than halfway.
"Come on. We've got to get out of here." Fjord continued, carefully pulling Caleb's arm over his shoulders.
The wizard didn’t resist. He couldn’t. His legs moved sluggishly, and his steps faltered. Fjord kept a strong arm around his waist, bearing most of Caleb’s weight.
The dust still hung in the air like smoke as they picked their way through the rubble. What had once been a temple corridor was now a half-collapsed tunnel, jagged stone and scorched walls narrowing the path ahead. The air grew darker with every step they took away from the open chamber.
Caleb raised a trembling hand, muttering under his breath.
A faint shimmer of light flickered above his fingers - then sputtered, blinked out.
He clicked his tongue, hissed something sharp and irritable in Zemnian.
Tried again.
Flicker. Fizzle. Gone.
More Zemnian. Harsher this time. A string of clipped, frustrated words that sounded like they could flay paint off a wall.
Fjord finally stopped.
“Caleb,” he said, voice firm but not unkind.
Caleb didn’t look at him. Just kept staring at his empty fingers like they’d betrayed him.
“Hey,” Fjord said again. He reached out, gently lowered Caleb’s hand. “Stop.”
Caleb’s jaw flexed, still breathing hard through his nose. “I - I am -”
“I know. But you’ve done enough.”
A beat passed in the darkness.
“I can - light - the way. I, I can help.”
Fjord could do it too, with the Star Razor. But that would mean only supporting Caleb with one arm. As much as Veth teased him about it, Fjord was in fact strong enough to support the wiry wizard. But Caleb's consciousness was like a ship's lantern in a heavy fog - flickering, half-swallowed by the sea, and drifting further with every swell. It wouldn't be long before that light went out.
And Fjord was damned if he'd let their wizard fall.
Caleb went quiet, still trembling slightly with the effort of not trying again. Fjord saw something old and heavy in the slump of his back, the way his mouth stayed tight. Punishing himself for being too weak. Or expecting someone else to punish him.
“Come on,” Fjord said, keeping his voice even. “We’ll find a way out together.”
Caleb didn’t speak again as they moved forward, but he didn’t have to. Fjord could feel it - the tremble in his limbs, the tension in his shoulders even as he leaned on him, like he was still trying not to be a burden.
“You did good back there,” Fjord said after a while. “We wouldn’t have made it through that without you.”
This was the second time Fjord had said something of this sort since the fight ended and he still doubted Caleb actually heard him.
Understood him.
Caleb’s head dipped slightly. “I just...did what I could.”
“You always do.”
They walked in silence again for a stretch. Fjord adjusted his grip when Caleb started to slip.
“I mean it,” he added. “We all made it out of there because of you. Don’t forget that.”
Caleb made a soft, unconvincing sound of acknowledgment. Fjord let it lie - for now.
When they finally emerged from the temple’s shadow, the cold air bit at their skin and the moonlight washed over them. The others wouldn’t be far now.
But Fjord never let go.
They met up with the rest of their party easily after that. Yasha had a disgruntled looking Beau in her strong arms. Outside the flames and distraction of battle, the monk's leg looked far worse than Fjord had noticed before. Jester was leaning heavily on Caduceus, her clothes and skin scorched. Angry patches of red blistered against the rest of her bruising blue body. Fjord fought the urge, the almost instinct, to hurry to her side. To be the one holding her.
Caleb was listing away from him again, buoyant in the wrong way - like something unmoored, carried by a current he couldn't fight. Fjord steadied him, tightening his grip, the only anchor keeping him from slipping under.
Fjord could have passed him over to Caduceus - the healer take over and take Jester in his own arms. But Caleb was already dragging hsi guilt behind him as much as his body. Burning through his last scraps of consciousness just to blame himself. Fjord wasn't about to add to that weight, to let him sink any deeper.
Veth still approached them, hopping up on a nearby rock to get a long, scrutinizing look at the wizard. When her inspection was apparently complete, she slid back down and stepped in close, settling at Caleb’s other side.
She slipped her hand into his.
Somehow, impossibly, Caleb had enough left in him to squeeze back.
Because of course he did. He’d summoned magic long after he’d run dry. Of course he’d find a way to give this to her too - some final proof that he was still here, still trying, even with nothing left.
As they walked, Fjord caught Veth eyeing him in a way she usually only reserved for Caleb or her family or Jester. The halfling smiled, soft and small.
"Thank you, Fjord."
They made camp a mile from the temple, under a ragged outcropping of stone and starless sky. The others slept. Beau with her bandaged leg propped up on Caduceus' lap. She'd started snoring halfway through his work and the firbolg had refused to move in case he woke her. Yasha stood watch, after finding a sizable boulder to move and place behind Caduceus so that he, too, could rest at least somewhat comfortably.
But Fjord sat up beside the fire, and Caleb lay near it, twitching in feverish sleep. No one had even suggested for him to try putting up the dome.
Jester was sleeping sound on Fjord's other side, laying purposefully to keep her burns off the ground. Caduceus had crafted a salve with various plants Fjord didn't recognize and Veth had applied it for Jester. It seemed to be helping, if the tiefling's gentle breathing and sleepy sighs were any sort of sign.
Veth was tucked in against Caleb’s chest.
It reminded Fjord of the early days - when she was still a goblin, and he was a filthy wizard wrapped in layers of secrets. The most unlikely of pairings. And somehow, the most perfect.
Fjord had thought Caleb was selfish back then. Thought he was using Nott. Using all of them, maybe.
And yet - months later, when Caleb finally confessed to doing just that - Fjord didn’t believe him anymore.
Sure, maybe he had started out that way. Maybe that was all he’d known. Caleb had been used - for his mind, his magic, his innocence. For his youth and the soft-bellied naivety that once believed in the Empire, in the world.
A man with more power than he ever deserved had carved a child open, poured in crystals and fear and hatred and control - until there was no room left for Bren. No space left for the boy who’d loved books and dreamed in stars.
And now, all this time later - after Caleb had learned to fight for them, to bleed and break for them, to trust and love and hope - he still thought he was using them.
He still believed that leaning on his friends, needing protection, asking for help...was some kind of manipulation. That needing love made him selfish.
Fjord looked at him - drained, burned out, still clinging to Veth like she was the only thing left tethering him to the world - and thought:
That couldn't be further from the truth.
"How is he?"
Yasha's soft voice pulled Fjord out of his own head. He glanced over at the woman. She was still standing vigilant, eyes roaming their surroundings, but her chin had turned just slightly in his direction.
What was Fjord supposed to say?
That the exhaustion was eating Caleb alive?
That the wizard had used more magic than he'd had inside of him and Fjord didn't know what kind of damage that did to someone?
That there were moments on the walk out of the temple that Caleb had gone entirely boneless against him and Fjord had thought maybe pushing the boundaries of one's own magic could kill a person?
Instead, Fjord simply sighed.
"We need him," Yasha whispered, "more than he knows."
Fjord stared down at the trembling man.
"And he needs us," Yasha continued, "more than he knows."
Fjord poked at the fire with a stick, watching the sparks dance.
People like Caleb? They were willing to die to be useful.
He’d known the signs of someone carrying too much alone. He’d seen it in the mirror.
It was in the way Caleb avoided eye contact when he was praised. The way he downplayed his own wounds. The way he’d apologize for needing rest.
And it scared the hell out of Fjord.
Because this man - this clever, strange, brilliant man - would burn himself to ash just to light the path forward.
When Yasha went to wake the next person for watch, Fjord stopped her. He was already awake, and despite the protests of his aching bones, he was going to stay that way anyway. Whether he wanted to or not.
The fire crackled low now, more smoke than warmth, and Fjord sat beside it with his arms crossed over his knees.
The wizard shifted restlessly beneath his blankets. Sweat slicked his brow, hair matted, his face flushed even in the cool night air. Fjord reached out, placing a hand against his forehead. Too hot. Not in the way he’d been earlier - then, Caleb had felt like smoke curling from a snuffed-out wick. Now he was burning again, but with no fuel left to feed it. Just a fever clinging to him like old fire clings to ash.
Caleb's lips moved faintly. Zemnian, too soft to catch. Maybe nothing. Maybe the things he said in dreams. Or nightmares.
Fjord grabbed a nearby waterskin and coaxed a little against Caleb’s lips. He didn’t drink much, but he didn’t choke either. A win.
“You ever think about what it costs you?” Fjord asked quietly, even knowing Caleb wouldn’t answer. “Every spell. Every bit of you you burn up to protect us. Because I do. I see it.”
He wrung out a cloth with the cool water and dabbed it gently across Caleb’s forehead. The motion was familiar, almost automatic. He didn’t know where he’d learned it. Maybe just from watching others care better than he had.
“You give so much, Caleb,” Fjord whispered. “But there needs to be something left after.”
Caleb stirred again. Not quite awake. But this time, his hand twitched weakly toward Fjord’s - like even unconscious, he was reaching for something. Not a spell or components this time. Just…connection.
Fjord took it. He sat there in the flickering dark, holding onto Caleb like he might float away with the smoke and ash otherwise.
The next morning, Caleb didn't wake up until well after the others. No one had the heart to try to rouse him either. Not after Caduceus tended to his injuries, but couldn't find reason for the human's current state. Not after Fjord explained what had happened. The cleric had agreed to perform a greater restoration, but only later. After Caleb woke on his own. After his body had claimed its much needed nonmagical rest and healing.
Between Jester and Caduceus, though, the rest of them were properly healed. Beau and Yasha sparred. Jester took over for Fjord a few times, reading Tusk Love aloud to their slumbering wizard. Caduceus prepared breakfast, and then lunch. Veth worked on some new acids and concoctions, all while trying to keep an eye on Caleb - until one of the experiments had nearly exploded and Beau had just stared at her until she retreated to finish her work on the other side of the camp.
A little after midday, Caleb tried to sit up.
Fjord was ready for it.
“You should stay down,” he said, without judgment.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” Fjord handed him water. “You used every ounce of magic you had left. And then some.”
Caleb took the water, but didn’t meet his eyes. “There wasn’t another way.”
“There never is, with you.”
That made Caleb freeze. He looked up, frowning faintly.
Fjord sat beside him on the cold ground, arms resting on his knees.
“I’ve seen it, you know. That look you get before you cast something big. Like you’re not just preparing a spell - you’re preparing to give up part of yourself.”
“I do not -”
“You do.” Fjord’s voice was low, but not cruel. “And I respect the hell out of that. But it also scares me.”
Caleb swallowed. The fever sweat was drying on his skin, but he still looked pale. “Why?”
“Because you don’t know where the line is.”
The silence that followed was long and sharp.
“I cannot afford to hesitate,” Caleb said softly. “Not when people are counting on me.”
“I’m not asking you to hesitate.” Fjord turned to him. “I’m asking you not to die for us.”
Caleb looked away.
Fjord wasn’t done.
“You don’t have to earn your place, Caleb. You’re already one of us. You always have been.”
For a moment, Caleb said nothing. Then, in a voice that cracked a little at the edges: “It is hard to believe that.”
“I know,” Fjord said. “But I’m gonna keep reminding you until you do.”
People like Caleb were willing to die to be useful, sure.
And people like Fjord?
Well, he wasn't going to let that happen.
Maybe someday Caleb would learn he didn’t have to burn to be bright. That the fire inside him didn’t have to destroy him to matter.