Fuel to the Flame

Ravana’s mind processed her father’s words with razor-sharp focus, every instruction he laid out sparking thoughts of strategy, weakness, and opportunity. His voice rolled through the heat, each word a meant strike on the importance of precision and trust. But Ravana knew that unity and trust were fragile things, like bones and meat and organs. Anything would fall apart–or be flayed away. She couldn’t deny the allure of mastering the coordinated strikes he described, a way to amplify her own skills by manipulating the flow of their collective energy. Still, a flicker of suspicion lingered, a quiet understanding that this exercise wasn’t solely about teamwork; there would be a test—a reckoning for any who faltered.

But who will be attacking? Ravana’s gaze narrowed, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. The roles he outlined, the strength required at each point… She had no doubt that once the volunteers stepped forward, the rest of them would turn as one, a wave aimed to test. An example of his teachings come to life.

So she remained silent, suppressing the smirk that tugged at the corner of her mouth, holding herself in perfect stillness as her father’s eyes roamed across them, lingering on the expectant faces awaiting his command. She watched and waited, her own anticipation mounting as each breath brought them closer to the moment she would see how far this lesson of unity would go—before the inevitable chaos broke free.


"Ravana Seraphim Saxe"