She nodded, satisfaction evident in her expression. Lostya Huggins approached her dressing table, opened an exquisitely crafted wooden box, and deliberately selected one stone from several nestled within. "This is for you, my lord."

  The duke permitted her to take his hand; she pried his reluctant fingers open and placed the stone in his palm—every movement executed with unmistakable stiffness. "What precisely is this? You would do well to explain, Lostya." Raveirmom examined the object carefully, discovering strange arcane runes etched into its surface.

  "A Honar Stone."

  "By the gods!" Aurelia rushed to Lostya's side and seized her arm with undisguised alarm. "Have you lost your senses?"

  "I understand perfectly what I'm doing."

  "You shouldn't even be carrying such an artifact on your person. By the Triad above!"

  "I presume you have no intention of explaining this object's purpose?" the duke interjected.

  "Please return it immediately, my lord," Aurelia implored, her hand extended imploringly. "This stone harbors extreme danger. It is not something to be employed without gravest consideration."

  "Let him make use of it," Lostya countered, restraining Aurelia's outstretched hand. Raveirmom Dear tightened his grip around the magic stone. "Then I strongly suggest you provide an explanation—without delay."

  "It is a magic stone inscribed with ancient runes," Aurelia explained, selecting each word with meticulous precision. "It possesses the capacity to unleash Hellfire. It requires nothing more than the smallest spark to activate."

  "Hellfire?" The mere name sent an involuntary chill down Raveirmom's spine.

  "Indeed... therein lies its terrible danger. Hellfire represents a variant of magical flame—but differs fundamentally from conventional arcane fire. The magical torches your forces employed near the Doby Stream produced blue flames—those represent ordinary magical fire. Hellfire, however, burns with an unnatural green hue. It is the divine flame wielded by Oris herself, one of the ancient gods. Unlike common fire or even a mage's flame, Hellfire does not simply burn the body. It scours the soul from existence."

  "...Continue."

  "I cannot speak with authority regarding other beings, but concerning humans: if Hellfire makes even the most fleeting contact with your person, your soul becomes irreparably fragmented. Even should you survive the initial encounter, those touched by Hellfire invariably experience mental deterioration, their consciousness gradually dissipating—they inevitably perish within days. The suffering they endure transcends comprehension—it manifests not merely in their screams or physical wounds—but in that haunting, vacant stare. Yet even this does not represent its most terrifying aspect." She paused deliberately before continuing. "It is a fire that seems to think, almost a form of Eternal Magic. Hellfire hunts, actively seeking out humans or any creature with a soul to consume. Its hunger is deeper than the sea, its appetite older than time. It consumes souls as its fundamental fuel—and achieves no satiation. Hellfire rightfully belongs in the darkest category of black magic."

  Raveirmom Dear swallowed nervously. For a moment, he nearly returned the stone, but pride ultimately kept his fingers firmly closed around it. "Then what purpose could you have in presenting me with this?" he demanded of Lostya. "How might something of such profound danger serve our cause?"

  "The method is brutally simple, my lord. You need only light the Honar Stone before their gate and let the Hellfire loose."

  "...You propose using this to eliminate the enemy mage?"

  "Precisely." Her expression remained perfectly neutral. "The spellcaster should be positioned directly behind the gate."

  "Will Hellfire penetrate the magical barrier?"

  "That capability exceeds its properties. However, it will ascend the Wall of Cynthia with alarming ease, consuming every living entity it encounters. Within less than a quarter-hour, it will have advanced into the city seeking additional sustenance—inevitably finding the mage among its victims."

  "At what point does it cease its consumption?"

  "Generally speaking," Aurelia explained, "Hellfire persists indefinitely. It continues devouring without limitation. However, since a Honar Stone represents artificially crafted magic, methods must exist to extinguish it. The most straightforward approach involves extinguishing the flame on the stone itself. Once accomplished, all manifested Hellfire subsequently dissipates."

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  "Might water suffice to extinguish it?"

  "I strongly advise against that approach," Lostya Huggins cautioned, shaking her head emphatically. "Employ sand instead—substantial quantities to completely entomb it. Should even the slightest oxygen remain accessible, the flame retains potential for resurgence."

  "Provided I refrain from igniting it, the stone remains dormant—correct?" He elevated the Honar Stone cautiously. "There's no possibility of spontaneous combustion while in my possession?"

  "No such risk exists. You may rest assured on that matter." She permitted herself a faint smile.

  "This strategy appears promising—potentially resolving our current impasse. However, one significant question remains..."

  "Indeed. That precisely explains why I inquired about your readiness for sacrifice," Lostya observed, studying his reaction intently. "Hellfire recognizes no distinction between ally and adversary."

  "What range does its perception encompass?"

  The black-haired sorceress displayed a sardonic smile. "That remains impossible to determine with precision."

  "So you're deliberately toying with me, Lostya Huggins," Raveirmom Dear accused, tendons visibly straining across his clenched hand. "You presented a modicum of hope—followed immediately by overwhelming despair. Are you aware how many soldiers currently assault that gate? Nearly twenty thousand men. Yet you casually inform me that Hellfire makes no distinction between friend and foe, while simultaneously claiming ignorance regarding safe distances? Long before that fire even licks the top of the wall, my twenty thousand men will be nothing more than screaming, soulless husks."

  "That outcome remains entirely possible," she acknowledged, her expression unchanging.

  "Lona..." Aurelia whispered anxiously, fearing their temporarily calmed discourse might reignite into open hostility.

  "You're testing me. You want to see if I would use my men as tools, and sacrifice them without a second thought. I tell you now, I would not. But if I had to choose, I would sacrifice you in a heartbeat, you manipulative little she-devil."

  Every vestige of amusement vanished from the sorceress's countenance. "Compose yourself, Raveirmom. My intention is to assist our cause."

  "Then provide counsel of actual utility, Lostya," he demanded, forcibly suppressing his mounting anger. "This moment hardly accommodates your morbid sense of humor."

  "According to established magical precedent, Hellfire invariably targets the nearest potential victim first."

  The duke's expression shifted as understanding dawned. "Suggesting I must withdraw troops—perhaps three hundred and fifty feet from the stone's position."

  "You would be wise to double that distance. Then double it again," she advised, her tone suddenly devoid of all artifice. "A little caution will not harm you."

  Raveirmom Dear's anger gradually subsided. "I shall implement that recommendation. Additionally, I request you describe alternative methods for extinguishing the flame. Attempting to smother it with sand during its active phase presents unacceptable risk."

  "Your concern is unnecessary. Its duration remains limited. That particular stone will maintain combustion for a maximum of one quarter-hour."

  "A quarter-hour, you say?" he echoed skeptically. "Were your elaborate descriptions of uncontrollable danger merely intended to inspire fear?"

  "You... might interpret it thus," the sorceress conceded with a dismissive shrug. "Nevertheless, I deemed it essential you comprehend the genuine hazard it presents."

  "In future interactions, I expect complete transparency, Lostya." He secured the Honar Stone within the pouch at his belt. Lostya Huggins returned laboriously to her bed and seated herself.

  "My lord," Julia interjected, finally discovering an appropriate moment to contribute, "you should immediately consult with your adjutant—regarding optimal deployment of the artifact."

  "Indeed," Ash confirmed with a definitive nod. "Time advances relentlessly."

  They anticipated Raveirmom's immediate departure. Instead, he performed an action none had foreseen. Placing his hands formally at his sides, he executed a respectful bow. "Once more, representing the empire, I extend profound gratitude to you all, ladies." Ash leapt instinctively from her chair; the remaining witches likewise rose and offered appropriate curtsies. It was said that Raveirmom Dear, a Duke of the Empire, would not bend his back for any man alive—save for the Emperor William Davidow himself. Despite her physical discomfort, Lostya returned the formal courtesy. "Additionally, speaking in my personal capacity, I offer you my sincere appreciation."

  "We merely fulfill our obligations," Aurelia responded on behalf of the group, hands delicately lifting her skirt—her stance revealing slight unsteadiness.

  "Capitalize on this opportunity, my lord duke." Lostya Huggins watched the magic stone with evident concern. "I possess no additional Honar Stones. Since the goddess of Hell, Oris, departed this realm, her remaining artifacts have grown increasingly scarce. Only the most exceptionally talented pyromancers can successfully craft such items—a discipline far removed from my particular expertise."

  "I shall seize this chance decisively." When the duke finally straightened his posture, the women collectively exhaled with relief. "My lady." He addressed Lostya specifically, briefly touching his own neck with tentative fingers. "I express my sincere regret for my earlier behavior."

  Lostya Huggins acknowledged with a measured nod and managed a small, constrained smile. "I accept your apology."

  As Raveirmom lifted the tent flap to depart, she added a final observation: "May you have your victory... no matter the cost."

  He departed with the same impetuous energy that had marked his arrival.