While a part of him was tempted to let it all burn, fires spread easily in the heat of spring and summer, and his inaction could allow the flames to engulf all of Riuta. Still reeling from the power in his body, he stumbled down the steps, watching people run around, calling for water and help.

Vincent took the first few steps towards the burning building, only to stop and falter. In his confusion, his mind was convinced that if he didn't find Spencer, then someone was going to think the fire was his fault. The flames licked up the wall of the house, eating at the bricks, but Vincent turned away from it.

His earlier experimenting with the vireen hadn't told him where Spencer's room was, so he threw open every door he could, startling people who were hiding from the fire. Finally, he shoved a door open and there lay Spencer, dead to the world and oblivious to the chaos outside the inn.

Cursing, Vincent hurried over and shook him. "Spencer, get up! There's a fire," he cried, hating the awful feeling of his uniform jacket against his fingers.

A bleary-eyed Spencer stared up him, grumbling under his breath. "What do you want?" he snapped.

"There's a fucking fire!"

That got him moving. With wide eyes, Spencer jumped from the bed, stumbling along the floorboards. "Where?" he asked as he pulled on his boots.

"Where do you think?"

People were still yelling to each other as Vincent and Spencer ran back down the hall of the inn. At the last minute, Vincent stopped and turned into his room, a single loose thought propelling him forward. Spencer wasn't behind the fire, he could prove that much, but someone else was. There was no way a fire would start in a house without there already being a bushfire or unless someone had started it. They were being attacked.

The vireen was still wrapped up in his bag when he reached for it, taking a deep breath before the power hit him. There wasn't much difference to how he was already feeling, but the chaos around him made it hard to focus on where he needed the power to go. His legs protested when he flooded his muscles with the vireen, but he forced them forwards anyway.

Spencer was still in the inn's foyer when Vincent reached him again, moving for the door. Out on the street, people were still scrabbling for water and anything else that could help. Horses neighed somewhere in the distance and all Vincent could do was pray that someone had gone to the stables to set Sparks free.

There was no sign of Charlotte or the carriage, meaning she was still somewhere in the mayor's half-built house. All of those out on the street were citizens of Riuta, not a single one of them wearing the familiar grey jacket of Charlotte's guards. It was just him and Spencer, they couldn't just run away, no matter how much the voice in the back of his mind begged him to.

His horse or the Governor. That was the decision he had to make. He knew what would happen if the Governor died, who would take charge, and the idea of Nicholas running the province made terror shoot through him. "Fuck!" he yelled.

The fire was only getting worse by the minute, he couldn't be wasting time standing out of the street. He raced towards the burning bricks, pushing past people who had no idea what they were supposed to do. If Spencer was behind him, he had no idea, but he kept running anyway.

The heat was suffocating, every inch of skin burning up the moment he pushed through the front door. It took all his concentration to force the vireen away from his sense of touch, but it was hard to balance when he wanted to heal the burns that were already forming. Without the rock, he wouldn't have dared to step into the house, but he didn't know enough about it to do anything helpful.

Smoke choked him and made his eyes sting, but he had to keep going. A figure moved next to him and made him jump, but Spencer's dark eyes glanced back at him. "You shouldn't be in here," he said. "It's too dangerous without the rock."

"Don't care," Spencer replied. "Let's get this done before I suffocate."

Vireen didn't usually work on other people, but he'd seen the old woman heal someone else with it. With the rock, it had to be possible, he just wasn't sure how. There were other solutions anyway. As they ran through the smoke clogged hallway, he grabbed Spencer's wrist and forced his hand onto the rock. The gasp his friend let out sounded choked, but Vincent wasn't going to let him run through the smoke without some kind of protection.

There was nothing to see through the smoke, nothing to hear either. If Charlotte had already left, then they had run into the flames for no reason. "Charlotte!" he yelled, hoping that she was still in there so that he hadn't just killed himself. "Charlotte, where are you?"

For a long time, there wasn't a reply. All he could hear were cries for more water out on the street and the loud crackling of the fire around him. Then, from somewhere deep in the house, someone yelled. "Help! Help me!"

The voice was familiar, but it wasn't the Governor. It was Mayor Truman, stuck somewhere in her burning home. Vincent barked out a curse as her cries rang out again. He might hate authority, might want to rebel against them at any opportunity, but he wasn't going to let someone burn to death. No one deserved that.

Sweat trickled down his face as he pushed through the house, orange flames licking at the edges of his vision. If he did find the Governor, would he be able to get her and Spencer out alive? Fires spread fast in spring and summer, there was never much time to get anyone out before it swallowed them. Running into the building had been stupid.

"Is anyone there?" Mayor Truman asked. "Please! I can't get out!"

It didn't take them long to find out why. The door to her office, the one he had stood in the morning, had been barricaded shut with furniture. The sight solidified his original idea. They were being attacked. Vincent darted forward, dropping Spencer's arm as he reached for the nearest piece. Even with vireen, he didn't see the figure hiding in the smoke, waiting for him.

How anyone could fight when they were surrounded by so much heat and smoke, he had no idea, but whoever was there had been preparing for a scuffle. Vincent fell to the ground with a grunt, the heavy weight of a body on top of him. A glare and bared teeth appeared through the black smoke, far too close for comfort.

Before he could do a thing, a fist slammed into his face and he gasped with pain. Vireen made it feel so much worse, as if he were having his head beaten in with a rock. He struggled under the choking weight as Mayor Truman screamed for someone to save her. Where was Spencer? Why wasn't he helping?

Despite the smoke and the heat and the pain, Vincent was stronger than anyone who dared to hurt him. He struck out, hitting whoever was on him in the chest so hard that he heard something crack. The person, a man, fell back but didn't stay down, climbing to his feet as Vincent shuffled back on the hot floor.

Behind him, Spencer was pulling at the furniture blocking the door, ignoring the little fight going on nearby. He shot a smirk at Vincent and grabbed a chair, throwing it towards their attacker. It hit his back and shattered, splinters flying everywhere. The man stumbled into Vincent, choking in pain. At least Spencer was doing something to help him instead of being useless.

His attacker didn't stand much of a chance when Vincent strode towards him, but he still tried to fight back. A punch to the gut did irreparable damage, but he still stayed standing, baring his teeth at Vincent again. A knife glinted in the flames that crept from the end of the hallway, the pink tinge mixing with the smoke.

Hissing in a breath, Vincent patted his sides, feeling his serrated knife in his belt. The pink vines wrapped around the hilt and his wrist, far thicker than they ever had been before. He wasn't thinking about anything except winning the fight and getting the mayor out of her office. He'd forgotten just how strong he was, forgotten that he didn't know what the new vireen did to his weapons.

He plunged the blade into the man's stomach, expecting to see what always happened. The thin vines were supposed to bloom out from the wound, the thorns pricking the skin, but that wasn't what happened. The thorns, usually little bigger than a fingernail, were the length of his finger as the vines wrapped around every inch of his attacker's body. The scream he let out was horrifying, filled with pain and quickly muffled by the pale pink vine that snaked into his mouth.

Vincent coughed, choking on the smoke as the man squirmed and screamed. There was so much blood, spreading along the vines, hard to see in the darkness around them. He had to look away, but he couldn't, his eyes drawn to the grotesque display. His hand was wrapped around the hilt of his knife, still embedded in the flesh of the man's stomach. He ripped it away with a gasp of shock as the man fell backward.

Even Spencer had stopped what he was doing to stare in horror. With trembling legs and struggling lungs, Vincent stepped over the body and grabbed the first piece of furniture he could find. He'd wasted too much time on the fight; they needed to get the Mayor and the Governor out.

But Mayor Truman hadn't called out to them for a while, despite the ruckus they were making on their side of the door. Teeth worrying into his bottom lip, Vincent ripped away the final thing barricading the door and grabbed the handle. It burned his flesh and made him cry out in pain, but the vireen was there in seconds, healing it as it burned.

The door flew open, replaced by a bright orange fireball shooting towards them. The entire room beyond was swallowed in flames, bright and loud and deadly. A hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him to the side as the fire shot out from the room. Spencer stared down at him, eyes wide with fear and sweat on his dark face.

"We need to find the Governor and get out," Vincent said and tugged him down the hall, away from the spreading fire and the man he had killed.

"Fuck her," Spencer replied. "She's dead. This is probably the dumbest thing we've ever done."

She probably was dead, meaning they had to get out before they joined her. But Vincent had pulled them the wrong way, further from the front door. They were lost in the fire and the smoke, trying to push through it like water. They needed to find a window or a hole in the building that wasn't swallowed by flames, even the places that hadn't finished being built if they weren't already gone.

They rounded a hall, one that probably would have been familiar if it weren't for the flames and the clogging smoke. In the middle of the hall sat two bodies, but it was impossible to tell if they were guards or servants or other attackers. Vincent cursed and stepped over them, ignoring the stench of burnt flesh as best he could.

For all he knew, Mira and the other guards had already helped Charlotte escape and they were running through a burning building for no reason. If he was being honest, he still didn't know why he was doing it, only that he believed he should for the sake of province he was trying to leave. He hadn't seen Mira at all, not since she'd yelled at them back near the tribe. Hopefully, she had made it out in one piece. She was an unusual woman, but no one deserved to die like those on the floor behind him.

Vincent, wary of his aching hand, kicked down the nearest door and let out a surprised laugh at the sight on the other side. Charlotte and Nicholas surrounded by fire, the former struggling to climb out the window. Nicholas watched over her, his gun at the ready as if he believed he could fight off the fire with it.

"Fucking natives," he barked.

Charlotte glanced up and pointed in shock at Vincent and Spencer. "You're alive!" she yelled, but that was all they could hear before the flames engulfed the door frame, blocking them from sight. Vincent jumped back, pulling Spencer with him until they bumped into the opposite wall. "Try to get out, boys! We'll head for the carriage and back to New Feridian!"

Her voice was muffled by the fire; the vireen was the only reason he had understood it. There had to be another way out, but at least she was alive. He couldn't find a reason to be relieved about it but he still was. He pushed it away, focusing on getting out was more important. With all his vireen focused on healing his burning throat, he turned down the hallway.

Spencer coughed and choked next to him, holding a hand over his mouth and nose to block the smoke. Cursing, Vincent pulled the vireen rock from his pocket and handed it to him, hoping it would be able to keep them both alive long enough to get out of the building. He wanted it back the moment he let it go.

They turned down a second hallway and found the area of the house that hadn't finished being built yet. The wooden frames had been eaten by the fire, but there was enough space for them to run free. The prickly grass had caught aflame and was slowly leading the fire towards the trees in the distance. If they weren't careful, everything would be set alight.

With a hand in front of his face as if it would block the flames, Vincent ran through the fire, Spencer following closely after him. They didn't make it far. A ring of people stood just beyond the burning frame and for a second he thought it was people there to put out the fire, but then he caught sight of the guns in their hands, trained on them.

He pulled to a stop just beyond the fire, the heat still beating down upon his back. "Well, shit," Spencer said as he pulled his arm from Vincent's grip. There were only half a dozen of them, but there were still too many for both of them to handle when they were that exhausted, smoke clogging their lungs.

Then Spencer was gone, darting off to the side before any of the people could make a move to stop him. "Spencer!" Vincent yelled, reeling in shock. He disappeared around the corner, footsteps pounding against the blackened ground, leaving Vincent alone to be shot. "You prick, Spencer!"

Pursing his lips and trying to breath in something that wasn't going to make his throat burn, Vincent grabbed his gun. He was faster than all the plainly dressed people around him, shooting one of them before any of them had a chance to react. Vines exploded from the wound, twisting around until there was nothing recognisable of his target.

Somewhere in distance was the sound of carriage wheels and hoofs against dirt. Charlotte had escaped, Nicholas too most likely. Knowing his luck, Spencer had found a horse and was off after them. All that talk about being friends and not fighting anymore, and he'd left him behind at the first sign of danger.

His attackers were still trying to understand what had happened to their friend, so he shot another. With adrenaline and vireen pulsing through him, he didn't care about who he was killing, all he cared about was his own survival. The vines were horrifying, but there was nothing he could do to stop them.

Gunshots echoed over the field behind the house, but the smoke was enough to hide him from their vision. They raced past him, one scraping against his shoulder, but the skin knitted itself up again in seconds. He shot again, but missed, hoping the vines wouldn't do too much damage wherever they landed.

The crackles of the flames and the creak of the building as it burned wasn't enough to hide the footsteps coming from the left of him. He spun and shot at the angry woman that raced towards him. Two shots, one in her chest, the other embedded into the bricks of the building. In a second of adrenaline fueled confusion, he saw that she was white, a woman from the town, not the natives Nicholas had been cursing about when he'd found him.

The thought was pushed from his head when the vines began to curl around the bricks and the fire. He jumped back, shooting wildly at those behind him as the thorns raced up to the roof. It spread faster than he ever expected it to, the bricks crumbling under the strength of the magic. It had been one shot, one accidental shot, and it was pulling down a building.

More gunshots came and he braced himself for the pain. He'd been stupid enough to turn away from them, to get lost in the strange effect of the vireen, he deserved it. But nothing came, there was no pain. Hoofbeats followed after and the yell of a familiar voice filled him with relief.

Their attackers were dead on the ground, a white-pink sheen surrounding them. Nearby, on the back of an angry Sparks, was Spencer. "Vincent!" he yelled as he raced towards him, holding out a hand. "Are you alright?"

It was hard to climb onto the back of a moving horse, but he somehow managed it. Sparks neighed loudly in response as she galloped around the side of the building. The vines followed them, snaking around the building and crushing it. People yelled in confusion as water splashed uselessly against the bricks. There was no stopping the vines once they started. They'd eat the whole building and crush it.

Vincent couldn't look away from it. One accidental shot had done it. What had the ones he'd fired into the trees done? When he looked back, he couldn't see anything, but that didn't mean it wasn't there. Within minutes, the entirety of the Mayor's house was wrapped in thick vines that squeezed, orange flames bursting up from the gaps.

Bricks crumbled and wood snapped until there was nothing recogniseable of the home. Spencer didn't let them stay to watch, urging Sparks on as they reached the main road of Riuta. Vincent wrapped his arms around his waist, watching over his shoulder as the townsfolk panicked even more, not a lick of sympathy within him.

Exhausted, he dropped his head against Spencer's shoulder. Everything ached, even with the vireen and he finally felt himself growing tired enough to pass out. His lungs and throat burned and before his vision faded completely, he put all his effort into forcing the magic to heal him. He let out a sigh and closed his eyes, trusting Spencer to get them to safety.