“Fire,” he muttered. 

Then louder. “Fire—Tamara, ogres are afraid of fire.” 

“I’ll distract him! There’s a lighter in the kitchen cupboards!” True to her words, Tamara summoned a bow and arrow, she dismissed the bow and jammed the arrow in the ogre’s eye. Sin sprung to action, running to the kitchen, he paused on the doorway and watched as the ogre groaned and raised his arm slamming Tamara to the ceiling. 

Sin ran to the cupboards pulling it off the hinges, he scrambled for a lighter finally setting eyes on a small blue one. Running back into the room, he doubled back in, pulling sheets from the laundry basket on top of a chair by the kitchen door. Sin paused, spotting a backdoor near the washing machine. 

There were defining moments in every person’s life, the old drill about the past not defining you was not exactly true. Certain things couldn’t be left behind. When his mother left, when his father stayed, those two opposite actions spelled out who they were at their core. 

Sin walked over to the door and opened it. Stepping outside, his stomach dropped. Dismangled bodies of random unfortunate passerby were spread out in the wake of the monster’s path, Sin counted one, three, seven—by thirteen bodies he stopped.

Sin couldn’t bring himself to apologize. It’d be an insult to all the lives lost. 

He wouldn’t let that monster take another one.

Sin jogged around the house and found a solid place to start, Sin’s fingers gripped the rough surface of the house, finding purchase in the crevices between the weathered bricks. Inside, the ogre trashed around and grunted, he did not let that paralyze him and used it to move faster.

Each brick he touched was a foothold in his ascent..

As he reached the apex, Sin pulled himself up, not wasting time pondering and running to the hole the ogre made. 

Sin whistled, “Over here, you ugly blob.” 

Whether the ogre understood the language or not, he did not seem to like that, he followed the direction of his voice, heading to the hole, he nearly reached the roof with his head. Sin spread out the sheets holding on to one end and letting the rest lay on top of the monster’s head. 

The first few attempts to lit the lighter yielded nothing but the hollow click of the lighter’s mechanism. A sense of urgency crept into Sin’s movements, his brow furrowing with each unsuccessful flick. Panic tightened its grip as the seconds ticked away.

With a frustrated exhale, Sin took a steadying breath. There was no room to panic. The lighter's flame flickered to life, casting an amber glow on his face.

In a swift motion, Sin brought the flame closer to the sheets. The flickering fire caught on the fabric, The sheets embraced the flames, spreading rapidly and reaching the ogre’s oily skin. A primal roar echoed through the air. Distraught, the ogre dropped Tamara to pull it off him. 

Startled and in agony, he thrashed about in frantic desperation. Its massive hands clawed at the burning fabric, but the fire clung tenaciously, licking at its rough exterior.

In its frenzied attempts to extinguish the flames, the ogre careened around the room. Once far enough, Sin breathed in and jumped in. The once-sturdy walls of the house quivered under the impact of the ogre’s massive form. Furniture toppled, and debris scattered in its wake. The air filled with the acrid scent of smoke and the grunts of the enraged creature.

Sin’s frantic gaze swept through the mayhem, searching for any sign of Tamara. Debris scattered across the floor, she could be under a pile. He crawled over to the ones she’d most like be in. His hands and knees felt the uneven surface and his skin suffering from scratches, by what previously looked like a bathroom, he encountered Tamara’s unconscious body, obscured by the fallen door. 

“Tamara, please…” he urged, his voice strained and desperate. He gently cradled her head, his eyes scanning her face, streaks of blood and bruises covering it.

As the ogre flailed about, he leaned dangerously close to the drapes hanging near the window. The flames on its skin moved perilously close to the fabric, and with a sudden whoosh, the curtains caught fire. The blaze climbed the fabric with voracious hunger, consuming the material.

Sin’s head whipped back to Tamara. “Where are your healing patches? Come on, tell me.” He couldn’t leave without them, he’d be carrying her to her death. 

Panic set in as the fire spread to the fragile structure of the house. The ogre inadvertently ignited furniture, papers, and anything else in its path. 

A low groan escaped her lips, Sin sighed, shaking her awake. His relief was short-lived as she turned over to vomit blood, staining her clothes and the floor beneath her. 

Her eyes popped open. 

“Where are they? The patches,” Sin asked clearly. 

Instead, Tamara slowly raised her hand over to his. He checked both her hands, she wasn’t wearing the dimension ring. She slipped her hand into his, squinting her eyes. 

[Echo Tamara gifted you a weapon]

“What?” Sin spat, fire and tears in his eyes. “Where are your healing patches? Why won’t you answer me?” he yelled.

T​amara managed a weak smile, blood spouting out between her lips. “I like you, Sinclair,” she whispered it as it was a secret.

Her eyes began to shut, Sin didn’t have the privilege of time to assimilate her words. The ogre, now doubly tormented by both the fire on its skin and the growing blaze around it, stumbled backward. Nearly smashing them into soup.

Cornered against the rock and a hard place, Sin scooped Tamara’s limp frame in his arms. 

‘It’ll  be okay.’

As if the universe could read his mind and wanted to prove him wrong. An eruption sent debris cascading from above. Burning debris showered down, and Sin instinctively shielded Tamara with his body. A beam, weakened by the flames, gave way and crashed onto Sin’s leg, pinning him to the ground. Tamara falling and rolling away from him, her body face down.

The searing pain was immediate. Sin’s senses reeled as the world around him blurred in a haze of smoke and heat. His consciousness teetered on the edge. He could feel the scorching heat seeping through his clothes, and the air grew thicker with each futile breath. Through the haze, he focused his sight on Tamara’s body. She wasn’t moving. 

She didn’t seem to be breathing either. 

Dazed and disoriented, Sin remembered the weapon Tamara gave him. 

‘How do I summon it?’

He tried picturing it in his head but there was nothing to picture, he didn’t know what weapon it was. He was fooling himself, even if he could, there wasn’t anything he could do to get himself out, and as for Tamara…

‘Tamara.’

The world spun around him, running laps and leaving him behind. Suddenly he was being lifted by the collar of his shirt. The ogre had him pinched with two fingers. Before he could offer some form of resistance, the monster threw his body against a wall, sliding down on top of the rubble. He was bleeding from three—no, four different places. The impact reverberated through Sin’s entire being. The world had come to a screeching halt.

His body pushed him to scream but a screech was the best it did.

As his vision blurred, Sinclair tried to hold onto all the things that made life worth living, ham and mayo club sandwiches, ice cream cones, the new episode of the latest anime, cats—he always said he’d get one, Nyla, Mrs and Mr Everton and Koa. If anyone was watching, surely they’d command him for his effort even if it only lasted him a few more minutes. 

Darkness closed in, his eyes shutting, the distorted image of the ogre’s arm being slit in one swift move coming in blinks, it was crazy enough to keep him conscious but he hung on for two more seconds seeing a red… scarf? surfing on air. 

The world dimmed at once until he could no longer feel it.