Chapter Text
Flame glared at the grass beneath him. He never thought he would’ve cared for much about Swight. Hell, most days he couldn’t care less about his own self.
Flame grumbled quietly, keeping his hand pressed into his side, blood steadily dripping past his fingers. He grit his teeth, pain blurring his vision. The urge to call out for Swight had him biting his tongue.
Swight left him.
Just like everyone else.
Just like Lomedy, like Jaden, like Mane. Hell, he could’ve had a real allyship with Wemmbu, and he fucked it over his title.
But what was he if not a title?
Parrot had already said before he was a bad person.
Flame let out a pained grunt, his hand slipping from the wound as he lay back against the tree, his breathing shallow. Theo was right in some way—he was lonely—but at the end of the day, it was his own fault. He cared more about a title now that Lomedy was gone. The words lost cause still rang in his ears.
Flame coughed, blood staining his teeth. He might truly die here.
He’ll never be able to follow the rumor and find his brother—find Mane. He won’t be able to apologize to Wemmbu, and he won’t be able to help take down the Law.
Flame laughed, harsh coughs tearing through him.
This is how he goes out.
Alone.
Drowning in his own blood.
The sound of footsteps cut off his laughter as a ringing filled his ears. A set of rough hands touched him, and he let out a choked breath of pain.
“Jaden, help me!” a voice called out, sounding almost… frantic?
Who would be frantic for Flame? This was his endgame. He dug his own grave, and he’d lie in it like he deserved.
“Wemmbu, you need to keep him awake. The wound is far too big,” a familiar voice said.
Flame’s mind buzzed as he felt a hand on his forehead, and he blinked his eyes open slightly. When had he closed them? The blurry figure of a demon hybrid stood—or kneeled—before him.
Was that concern on his face?
Flame just slumped.
“Flame, you better keep your damn eyes open. I swear,” Wemmbu said, his voice holding a bit of panic.
Flame coughed, blood running down his side.
“’M sorry for betraying you,” he slurred.
He knew his words were unclear. He expected that. But he had to apologize at least once.
“Shut up and let us help you,” Wemmbu said, tilting his head up to check his eyes for a concussion.
“Wemmbu, hold him still,” Jaden said, uncorking a bottle.
Flame felt Wemmbu tighten his grip on his shoulders, and before he could speak, his vision went white with pain as a health potion was poured onto his side. His chest felt tight, and only then did he realize he was screaming.
Which was strange. Flame never showed his pain.
Maybe he was still upset about Swight.
Hot tears slid down his face, his vision swimming.
“Swight—” Flame slurred.
“Wemmbu, keep him still,” Jaden repeated.
Flame screamed again as more potion hit the open wound, fear flooding him. He wasn’t lucid enough to know what potions they were using, and that brought a new wave of panic.
“S-stop,” Flame slurred, his hands sparking slightly as he tried to pull himself back to reality.
“Flame, you’re fine. It’s okay. Just—uh—I don’t know how to do this. Crap. Uh—just breathe, it’s almost done,” Wemmbu said.
Jaden let out a muffled curse, and Wemmbu began to turn toward him.
Flame didn’t know what happened after that.
His vision went dark, panicked voices echoing as he fell unconscious.