The Ash that Falls on the Storm

Bullets flew as screams of mercy and pain were cut off from the sound of the distant rain. Lights flash across the dark streets. But no lightning streaked across the cloudy skies, nor did thunder boomed across the vast empty town. Instead, flames that shouldn't live burned mercilessly on the muddled streets, water that should've cascaded down were falling vertically. But one thing was constant: The Blood that flows across the rain drenched floors.

Moth and Bell were a whirlwind of smoke and sleet. Blades of water that can slice throats, scales of embers that can suffocate people even though there was no smoke. Bell was aggressive but methodical in attacking, each slash he makes were aiming for the hands, the throat, and the eyes.

Moth was a devil under the rain. Flames that burned even amidst the storm. Fire Moth, Flame Demon, El Diablo del Fuego. Those were his monikers. The screams cut off when the fire reached their limbs, instantly charring them to as dark as coal.

"Gamma Squad on route! Hold the line!!" One Soldier shouted but was killed by Bell's Water Swords. A fight of a hundred against two ten year olds. And they never imagined that these kids were efficient killing machines.

"M-monsters! They're monsters!!" The soldiers began to falter and were wavering.

BOOM!

The Sound of a ballistic weapon being shot broke the skirmish, a cloud of dust and dirt rose up as the explosion caused Bell to be thrown up.

"Gamma Squad engaging! Light them up boys!!" The tanks broke through the buildings and continued to release rounds upon rounds of ammunition.

The soldiers began to regain their morale. And they marched for Bell's unconscious body. And in their moment of victory, he appeared in a pillar of flame beneath the leading tanks.

He clenched his fist and appeared before it was a lance bearing malicious dark red flames. The eerie glow was enough to cause them to fear Moth even more. What's caring them even more, is that Moth was actually living up to his name; His back bore dark red wings, but it was far from moth-like, rather, it looked more draconic.

"Ashes they were formed, ashes they go. They sought despair, they brought dissent. Through me, their sins be formed, in my hands, their ends return."

Moth brandished his lance and a surge of heat blazed forth, like a tsunami of fire consuming all. Steel and stone melt, the rain suddenly vanished in the instant that Moth wield the lance.

"Have you ever wondered why I named you Moth?"

Moth and Padrino were sitting by the palanquin that overlooked the lake near the mansion. The children were playing along, one was screaming on the top his lungs, calling someone 'monke' or something that Moth did not get.

"I... Honestly want to know." Moth answered as Padrino gave him a cup full of Firescotch. A non-alcholic drink that dulls the senses yet makes you lucid to information.

"My child... Mi fillio... you were a lonely one when we found you. You were a tiny larva, fated to die in that blaze. Yet you came, alive and crying. The garden became your home. And your flame, is what gave you your name:"

"You are called Moth. Because you... Are a child who was born from the ashes. You... were the moth that survived the flame. The Ember, that burned in a lightless city."

"You... are an -m-y-r--."

The settlement, forest and Mountains in front of Moth were seared and razed, not a single tree, river nor root was spared. The wings disappeared, so did his lance. Only ashes and carnage remained. The rain ceased, yet the sky was dim. It was as if, Moth forcefully stopped the sky from crying.

"Y-you monster..." It was the woman from the intercoms. Her bright green eyes were displaying desperation and fear. Her voice quaked at Moth's normal presence.

"Who sent you?" Moth asked politely, but there was no emotion in his voice, his eyes were dull, like a burnt out hearth.

"You'd have to kill me." She said but Moth wasn't playing games, so he cupped his right hand near her face and a dull flame appeared.

"W-what are you doing?!" She tried to back away but Moth grabbed her by the throat and looked at her directly in the eyes.

"Memories are fickle things, a single instance is enough to make you forget something. So when you wake, you'll be a new you. Like a passing dream about to be snatched away." Moth said as he thrusts the flame to her face as she screamed in pain. She tried to escape but Moth held her, the searing pain was enough to cripple her ability to speak coherently.

Moth removed his hand and the flames were now burning bright lilac, and he fished out a bottle and contained the flames inside.

"W-what happened here? W-who am I?" The woman asked, she wasn't afraid anymore, in facat she was bewildered. "Wait.. Kid what are you doing here?!"

"I'm a local here and I'm actually 26. Listen, you were a wildlife ranger. You ran into a Flame Serpent and came close to dying. I suggest you head south. And I think you would find that it's time to mount the ranger uniform and live a life in peace." Moth said.

"Y-you're right... A fire serpent... This area has become dangerous. Take care of yourself too kid." She said and she ran for south.

Moth sighs in relief. And he looked at the bottled flames and hid it to his pockets. He then rush towards Bell. Even though they had their disagreements, Moth still sees him as a sibling. He hoisted him on his right side and began to carry him towards the semi-damaged clinic.

Inside, bodies upon bodies lie on the floor, and Maggie sipping tea as if it was a passing rainy day.

"Wrapped up your little skirmish? Good, I need help tidying up these corpses. Be a dear, Moth. I'll handle Bell."

Maggie took Bell's limp body while Moth gathered the bodies of the dead outside. Some had their eyes open, some were no younger than Fourteen. But most of them... Were people who swore revenge on the Garden.

The sky was still dark, but the rain ceased. More like, it was forcefully stopped. Then it fell, like snow on a winter day, but it was darker, heavier even.

"Ashes they were born, and in the ash they shall return." 

Moth drew a large circle while repeating those exact words. And when he reached the end, both his palms burned with orange flames.

"May the flare sear your tomb."

Moth spread his arms and a great pillar of flames shot upward. It wasn't cruel, nor was it out of an act of mercy.

It was a funeral pyre... and a warning. To those who desire to harm his family. An outcry to those who would dare to challenge the Garden of Cinders.