Twenty minutes passed by like lightning, and Ignatius jumped off the bed after giving his wife a kiss on the cheek. He quickly dressed and slowly opened a closet door. In the corner of the closet, covered by dust and grime was a sword protected in a scabbard. Ignatius fastened the sword to his belt and he quietly escaped the house. Under the moonlight he pulled the sword from its shield and revealed a dark grey steel. The hilt of the sword was a crimson red, and tiny skeleton heads were engraved on its crossguard. 

Ignatius whispered, “Mom, finally you can rest in silence. I hope that Oblivion will finally bring you warmth once I finish this long awaited vengeance.”

The palace of the Lord of Rage was made out of lava rock and stone. It was quite a magnifying sight. The door was void of guards because, in the Tribe of Fire, it was believed that if the Lord of Rage could get killed, they weren't worthy of their title. In other words, if the lord could not protect themself, then they were weak. Inside the palace were rooms with large open spaces and high ceilings. Paintings in the halls portrayed the lord and his legacy, and a long, thin carpet led endlessly through the castle. The carpet lead to every room, including the lord's bed chambers. The lord's room was magnificent. A painting that pictured war covered the ceiling. The walls were a deep crimson that matched the canopy of the bed. The Lord of Rage slept soundly in his bed. His black beard filled his face and his eyes were lightly shut. When the lord felt something in his abdomen his eyes shot open and he grabbed hold of whatever pierced him. He coughed up a mouth full of blood and his lips were left agape.

He asked darkly to the figure with burning eyes, “Son?”

The dark grey sword continued its path upwards, ignoring the hand trying to keep it in place.

The lord begged, “Stop Ignatius!”

The sword cut open the lord's stomach and passed through the pancreas to the liver. The lord could barely breathe, his life was flashing before his eyes.

“If this is about your mother, I am not guilty. She is the one who killed herself. It wasn’t me!”

Ignatius stopped his sword and lowered his head so his father could see him clearly.

“You trapped her inside and disowned me when I was only ten. How do you think that made her feel? You were so afraid of others that you hid your wife away so she could only see you. How do you think that made her feel!?” Ingnatius raised his sword from the lord and hovered it over his heart.

“I am not only here to avenge her. I want to change this tribe, I don’t want us to remain in the shadows forever, I want all of the Underworld to know us. To fear us.” 

Then, with a single pierce, the sword cut through the lord's heart. Fire and laughter enveloped the room, the birth of a new lord had now fueled the flames. 

Ignatius awoke beside the body of his fallen father. He quickly shot up and turned to face an old woman. She wore a black robe that covered her eyes, and in her hand she held a cane. 

“Good morning, Ignatius. I see there is something we must discuss.”

Ignatius asked, “Who are you?”

The woman smiled and walked out of the room. Ignatius followed her with confusion running through his brain.

“Are you a part of the Elder’s circle?”

The woman knocked her cane on a bookshelf, and it slid open to reveal a steep, twisty staircase. She walked down the steps slowly, and Ignatius followed her. When they reached the bottom of the stairs they were met with a stark white space. It was like they were in the clouds. The woman stepped forwards, but instead of falling, it was as though the ground was invisible. Ignatius stayed put. “How are you doing that? Walking on thin air?!”

The woman chuckled.

“Come forth. It’s not air, it’s fire. It’s all right to step on though, because we elders can tame the flames. It will not burn you.”

Ignatius was shocked.

“Fire?!”

The woman seemed to be losing her patience and she frowned. Ignatius felt a terrifying amount of dread. It felt as though if he continued to stand there, he would be blown to bits. Ignatius stepped forwards and was relieved to find that he didn’t fall through. Then, in the blink of an eye, six other elders were seated around him on pillows. The old woman sat down on an empty pillow, and he was left standing in the middle of their circle.

“Ignatius, it is time for your coronation.” Spoke every elder at once.

Ingatious asked, “Coronation?”

“Yes, a test that proves that you deserve the title of Lord of Rage.” 

“I thought that if I just killed the lord I would attain that title.”

The elders chuckled.

The old woman from earlier spoke up, “Do you want to be the lord?”

Ignatius let the fire in his eyes burn once again and the elders were satisfied with his gaze.

“Alrighty then, let’s begin the test. The test of rage.”

Then, like lightning striking the ground, Ignatius found himself in a new place. He was now in a narrow cave. He followed a warm light in the distance, and once he exited, he found himself in a very large open space. The ceiling of the cave was as high as the sky, and the cave was as large as a farmer's land. Ignatius gripped his sword in his hand and walked forwards. The cave was illuminated by torches that all led toward a tree. The tree was extremely healthy and large, it was weird to Ignatius that such a plant could survive in a cave. Unlike the trees Ignatius was used to, this tree was not burning, instead it’s leaves were lush and full. A woman stood beside the tree and Ignatius paused in his step. 

“Sera?”

The woman looked at him with her brilliant eyes. She wore a flowy green dress that she always talked about wanting to own, and her blond hair was tied in a braid.  Ignatius rushed to her and stood in front of her.

“How did you get here?”

Sera looked at him and tears welled in her eyes. With every passing second the tears came closer and closer to overflowing. She played with his hair and kept her head to the ground. Ignatius wrapped his arms around her and felt fire grow inside of him.

“Who hurt you?!”

Sera pushed him away and grabbed his sword from the ground. She gave him his sword and he gripped it tight. She hugged him back and blood spilled.

“You did.” 

Ignatius fell to the ground with his wife. The sword slipped out of her body and clanged as it landed on the stone ground. 

“Why? Sera!”

Sera coughed, “To pass the coronation… You must destroy what you love the most and forward that anger to the cursed souls in this cave. It’s a test to challenge the capacity of your rage.”

Sera used the rest of her breath, and her eyes dimmed. Ignatius hugged her tightly and sobbed.

“Sera! Wake up, Seraphina! I love you, please. I could never kill you!”

The loud booming of footsteps echoed in the horizon. Cursed souls as large as mountains were walking toward them. Ignatius felt an insane burn in his mind, and his vision became blurry. He sat his wife by the tree, and he stormed forward. He gripped his sword tightly and its blade ignited with a glowing flame. Ignatius cut the cursed souls into ash. He cut and cut until he could no longer breathe. His mind was so full of guilt and rage that he became someone else. He became a monster. It was only when the sunrise of the fifteenth day graced the sky that Ignatius stopped killing. He stood alone in the cave, only the smell of smoke and slashes in the cave's walls left the imprint of war. The elders appeared before him and clapped their hands.

“We have never seen such rage! You are our true lord!”

Ignatius looked at them with stormy eyes. His eyebrows were forever furrowed, and a frown so deep stained his face.

“Shut up.”

As the years followed, Ignatius transformed the village, he raised their economy and expanded their territory. The tribe was at a high they had never seen before, though despite this, Ignatius had never touched his sword again. When people of the tribe would attempt to kill him, he would always subdue them. He made the effort to make sure he never spilled blood again.