//------------------------------// // Chapter 15: A Father's Duty // Story: Our Little Brother, Spike // by Hope Caster //------------------------------// After three days away from his family, the Dragon Lord wanted nothing more than to spend an evening with his beautiful mate and his precious daughter. He had been looking forward to coming home to their smiling faces. But once he saw his daughter, with her little foot bandaged, he very nearly went on the warpath. Back when Torch had approved of his daughter’s rival, he’d done so under the assumption that the dragon she fought was a flake, a near nonentity. After all, what dragon didn’t hurt a rival? There were only two explanations he could think of. The first was that Ember may be stronger than she seemed, and had beaten the whelp without breaking a sweat. Frankly, in Torch’s humble opinion, there was a greater chance that a five-year-old would become the next Dragon Lord after he stepped down. Which had brought him to his second theory; the young whelp purposefully never hurt her. So, in a bid to make his daughter happy, Torch had indulged her desire to fight. Now, his foolishness had once again resulted in Ember getting hurt. His little princess was bandaged, barely able to stand, and her body was bruised. Blaze had told him what happened, in a calm manner, but left out one detail. “Who hurt her?” Torch asked, trying to fight the growing urge to roar and shout. Blaze didn’t twitch, however. She kept a cool and collected air about her. Torch looked down at his daughter. “Who hurt you?” Ember looked away from him, biting her lower lip. Unbeknownst to Torch, Ember had promised to keep quiet about Arrow. “Ember, I asked you a question. Who hurt you?” More silence. “Who did you fight?” Ember looked away from him. Torch slammed his fist on the ground, leaving a gaping crater in the cavern floor. Still Blaze was unfazed, but Ember hid behind her mother’s leg, trembling. “Who. Did. You. Fight?” His daughter let out a loose whimper, burying her face into her mother’s scales. “Was it that playmate of yours, did he do this?” “No,” Blaze said calmly. “In fact, he helped her.” “Blaze, who hurt her?” Blaze began to ponder. “I didn’t get the name, or their face, or gender, or anything really. I have such a poor memory at times, Torch.” His eyes narrowed. Blaze had a memory like a steel trap. She was just lying. “Do you recall her little playmate’s name?” “He’s no one you need to worry about, Torch.” The Dragon Lord let out a grunt as he turned and left the cave. He was not going to gain a single inch with either his mate or daughter. Fortunately, there was a dragon he could ask. After all, Ember had to get bandaged somewhere. Scale Break. Topaz despised the disease Scale Break more than any other. The whelp before her was burning up, sections of his scales turned a ghostly white. Gemstone was carefully applying a stinging balm to the whelp’s hide. Being a Steelspine made her a living weapon; her claws were always a hazard, especially when applying a slick balm to dragons’ hides. “Good, nearly done,” Topaz said, looking over her student’s work. There came a sudden slam, causing Gemstone to pull her claws away from the whelp. “Topaz Goldwing, I demand to speak with you,” Torch said in a booming voice. His anger was so raw everyone in the cave could feel it. Yet Topaz showed no fear. No, though a delicate procedure had been interrupted, she was far from fearful. Topaz’s bronze claw shot out and grabbed the great Dragon Lord by his throat, slamming him against the nearest wall. “How dare you come into my cave, cause a ruckus, and endanger my patient. You will sit and stay silent until we are done,” she barked, making his command a mere whisper in comparison. The display of strength was enough to instill some patience into Torch. Had this been a dragon around his age, a lesson would need to be taught, but being a healer and his senior, Topaz could get away with things like this. After all, she didn’t need to mend his wounds. Topaz returned to her work. The fungal infection could be lethal if not properly treated, turning from Scale Break to Scale Rot, a disease she’d once had a long, long, long time ago. Topaz needed both her and Gemstone to be calm and collected so they could identify every infected area, something that’d be impossible if Torch was shrieking. They soon finished, and Topaz let out a sigh of relief. “That should do it,” she cooed, patting the whelp’s head. “The infection wasn’t too bad, it should clear up the day after tomorrow.” She turned to the whelp’s mother. “He’s your firstborn, yes? Gemstone will pop by your cave to reapply the salve tomorrow at sunrise. Keep him in. He’s to rest and nothing else.” The mother nodded, collected her whelp, and hurried out of the cave, glancing at Torch as she passed. “Now that he’s taken care of, what can I help you with, Lord Torch?” Topaz said in her usual, soft tone. Torch rubbed his sore neck. He would have expected Topaz's grip to weaken with time, yet it was still as strong as if she had just turned 200. “You treated my daughter a few days ago. I want to know who hurt her.” “Like I keep track of that,” Topaz scoffed. “She had a sprained ankle. That’s all either of us cared about.” Torch looked between the two dragons. Neither showed signs of lying. “I see. Did she mention who helped her?” Torch asked. He noticed a few small facial twitches. He had that to go on, at least. “If neither your mate nor your daughter told you that, leave well enough alone,” Topaz advised. There was likely a good reason that they’d keep Garble’s name from Torch, and if Torch had a just a single brain cell, he’d let Ember have her little secret. “No. I am her father; I will decide if this whelp can have any kind of relationship with her.” But to Torch’s great ire, Topaz balked at him as she slowly trudged to a spot to rest and count her medicines. “Bitter old bat,” he snarled. “do you think yourself above me?” “I do,” Topaz said without a hint of fear or worry, “and I’ve entertained you long enough.” She turned to meet his searing gaze. “Get out of my cave, and leave us to our work.” Torch’s eyes narrowed. “You think that you can send me off? I am the Dragon Lord. I order you to tell me his name.” An order from the Dragon Lord himself. Thinking that Topaz would be forced to speak Garble’s name, Gemstone turned to her master, expecting her to glow bright, and saw nothing. In fact, his command had served only to bring out a fiery rage within Topaz. “The gall a little wretch like you must have,” Topaz said with a low growl. “The Dragon Lord only has authority over dragons of their generation and younger, ‘Torchy’.” In an act of disrespect, she pinched his cheeks, like she’d done with her own granddaughter. “I am too old to indulge a brat trying to browbeat old healers into doing their bidding, like some spoiled, petulant child throwing a tantrum.” Torch wished he could argue, but Topaz was right, he had no power over her. He heard a snort, and turned to see Gemstone, who quickly turned her head away. Such a young, pretty, little dragon she was. “What about you, Little One? Do you know the name of my daughter’s partner? If you do, I order you to tell me everything you know about him.” His eyes glanced at Topaz, and he smirked. Gemstone’s hide began to glow and, after trying to resist the command, to itch. Torch had made a cunning ploy, neither healer could deny it. “I apologize, Master Topaz,” Gemstone gasped. “His name is Garbuncle Ironscale of the Ironscale Clan. Firstborn in front of Smolderessence Ironscale and his adopted little brother, Heathspike Ironscale. He knows how to read, and-” “Enough,” Torch declared. “I must take my leave.” “You are not going anywhere, not when Gemstone still has so much to say,” Topaz said sternly, grabbing Torch’s massive shoulder and yanking him back into the cave. Gemstone smiled sweetly. This was one way she could get back at him. “She’s right, My Lord. You said ‘everything’ and I intend to tell you everything.” She smiled again, and spoke for another hour. Torch never talked back or disrespected a healer ever again. Yet, the time wasted was well worth it. He had a name now; Garbuncle Ironscale. That damned enabler. He should have never let him anywhere near his daughter. All he’d done was encourage her foolishness, giving her some benign fantasy world where drakes never raised a hand at her. Young Garble wasn’t all bad, though. When Ember had been hurt, he’d helped her, so he deserved a warning if nothing else. One warning. Torch wished he’d got the name of the other whelp, the one who’d actually hurt Ember, but there was a simple way to punish them, and all he needed to do was make sure no-one touched his daughter again. He was the Dragon Lord, he could make it happen. Simmering, Torch returned to his cave, and picked out a small dagger from his hoard, before also picking up his befuddled daughter by her tail. “What’d I do!?” Ember cried. “You got hurt,” Torch said, with not an ounce of emotion in his voice. Alarm bells began to sound in Blaze’s head and she stood. “Where are you taking our daughter?” She waited for an answer, but heard only silence. “Torch, what are you doing?” “Be silent.” “What did you just say to me?” “Be silent!” Torch barked, turning to meet her gaze. Their eyes locked, and her scales began to glow, signifying an order had been issued. It was similar to what he had done a year ago, with one key difference. Blaze could see that this wasn’t some spur-of-the-moment, overly emotional response; this was a deliberate and targeted use of his authority. Blaze could only glare at her mate as she fell silent. Torch sighed as he left the cave, knowing deep in his heart that it would be sometime before he was welcomed back in. He reminded himself he was doing this for Ember, and what he was doing was right. Nearly every parent became confused as their child’s hide began to glow. Torch couldn’t possibly be conscripting nothing but ten- and eleven-year-olds to be the next Dragon Lord, could he? However, those children with older siblings knew it couldn’t be the case. Afterall, only the firstborn of each clan would be called up. Regardless, the summoned whelps all trekked towards the Dragon Lord’s throne, a humungous stone seat carved into a mountain, followed by a few older, curious dragons. Garble swallowed a growing lump in his throat as he walked amongst the crowd. Was this what he was supposed to expect for the Gauntlet; him fighting in an entire sea of whelps? ‘Except Ember,’ he thought to himself. Ember was still recovering, which was sad, but it was one less whelp to fight. He took a deep breath. He was going to do fine. Smolder and Spike were in his corner 120%, and that was likely an underestimate. He kept his thoughts on his little brother’s bright green eyes and wide smile, and his sister’s excited smirk. She had always wanted to be a duchess. Duchess Smolder and Duke Heathspike, the names sounded so noble, so right for them. And then his own title: Dragon Lord Garbuncle Ironscale. He steeled himself as he came to the throne, bottling up his excitement, fear, and anxiety. He was not the only one. Slicer Steelspine stood not too far away. Excitement coursed through his veins as he took note of his competition. One slash was all it would take to scare everyone off. Then the mantle would be his. His bit his lower lip as he gazed up at Torch, who looked down on all of them, or maybe it was Slicer staring at him, mesmerized by his greatness. Soon, it would be him on the throne, thanks in no small part to his sister forgoing her birthright. He listened closely as Torch began to speak. “Do any of you know why I called you all here?” Torch asked. It was Slicer that stepped forward, and spoke in a loud voice, “For the Gauntlet of Fire!” He was shocked when Torch began to laugh. Slicer shrunk and stepped back into the crowd, to hide himself. A good two minutes passed before the Dragon Lord was able to speak normally. “Why would you think that? I’m not stepping down and letting whelps replace me. None of you have even molted yet! No, I called you for a different reason.” He opened his closed fist to reveal a very emotional Ember. “Do any of you know who this is?” “Dad, please don’t,” Ember begged, tears welling up in her eyes. This was like something out of her worst nightmare. She stood before the sea of whelps, all looking at her and muttering amongst themselves. Some were likely starting to put two and two together. Her peers were stupid, but they weren’t that stupid. “Ember,” a very unfortunate whelp said. “She’s really annoying!” “You have ten seconds to rephrase that,” Torch warned. “She’s a loudmouth?” the whelp said, wondering what he was supposed to say. He wasn’t stating anything untrue, in his opinion. Ember was constantly screaming about how she would defeat Garble on the field of battle. Every. Single. Day. “One hundred push-ups. Now.” Torch said flatly. Soon the whelp’s voice was echoing across the valley as he counted every pushup he did. “For the rest of you, she is Ember Brightcrest, my daughter. The Princess of the Dragonlands.” There was a sudden uproar between the whelps as they processed the revelation. As Ember expected, ‘She’ll run home and cry to her daddy’ ceased being an insult, and became a threat. A few specific whelps began to sweat; Arrow and Clump in particular. The two stood perfectly still, bile beginning to crawl up their throats. Scales simply accepted that her jeering remarks were no longer going to be acceptable. At the very least, Garble wouldn’t even think about going near Ember now, leaving him to her. “No, no, no, don’t do this!” Ember cried, her tiny claws beating against Torch’s palm. But she didn’t even register as an itch to him. Torch ignored his daughter’s pleas and continued. “Some of you thought it wise to attack her, to hurt her,” Torch scowled at the whelps surrounding him. “I’m here to tell you that was a mistake. I will find out who hurt her, and you will be punished. Turn your attention to the moron who thought it a good idea to insult her. I can do much, much worse.” Just to make his point, Torch lifted a large boulder in his spare claw and crushed it without much effort. “My daughter is off limits, are we clear?” The whelps all nodded. It wasn’t good enough for Torch. “Answer me clearly!” Torch snarled. “Ember is off limits. Are. We. Clear?” There came a resounding ‘Yes’. “Good. Now I just have one question regarding a single drake among you.” Arrow and Clump swallowed the growing lumps in their throats. Fume leaned towards Clump and whispered, “If he kills you, can I have your rock collection?” Fizzle took a step forward and stood beside Arrow. “Arrow, those emeralds you found earlier, can I have them?” he asked, thinking that Arrow wouldn’t be able to enjoy them in a few moments. “Where is Garbuncle Ironscale?” Torch asked. Hundreds of fingers pointed at the red dragon, as the whelps themselves backed away from him. Many thought that he’d be murdered for fighting Ember on a near-daily basis, while others thought that he’d be exiled. Clump and Arrow were just relieved that Torch hadn’t singled them out. Either way, every whelp present had a tacit feeling they’d never be seeing Garble again after today. “Stay away from my daughter,” the Dragon Lord ordered. The whelp seemed shocked at first, before his face scrunched up into a scowl. Torch was ready to put the whelp in his place, but was pleasantly surprised when he turned and left. “Dismissed, all of you!” Torch bellowed. The whelps obeyed without fuss or hesitation. Torch allowed himself a sigh of relief. Ember was safe now. It didn’t matter what she tried to do, no whelp in their right mind would try laying a finger on her, let alone accept her challenge to fight. His joy, however, proved short-lived, as he heard a whimper. He looked down at his daughter, and saw tears forming in her eyes. “Ember, what’s the matter?” “I hate you,” Ember said with a soft sniffle. “What?” “I hate you!” Ember repeated, shouting this time. Garble calling her strong had sent a dagger into her heart. It had nearly broke her in two, but she’d recovered. Torch? His order to her peers was bad enough, but with his one order to Garble, he’d effectively reached into her chest and ripped her heart out before shredding it to ribbons. Ember wanted to be normal. She wanted to dig for gems, fight, and play with other whelps. However, being the princess and Torch’s only child, there was always some obstacle. Now there was an iron wall in her way, one that she couldn’t move past. Her tiny fists pounded against Torch’s claw, all while she repeated ‘I hate you’ over and over again as tears flowed down her cheeks. Sighing drearily, Torch reached down and pinched his daughter’s tail, lifting her up. Ember fought and cried on the entire trip home. But she would have to see that this was for the best, even if it was only one day many years later. His mate was waiting in the back of the cave for them. When Ember was put back on the ground, she stumbled her way to her mother, wrapped her arms around her Blaze’s claw and began weeping. Soon, everything Torch did was laid bare, with Ember weeping into her mother’s snout. Yet there was one trespass that seemed to upset Ember the most. “He-he ordered Garble to stay away from m-me!” Ember sobbed with a whimper. How was he supposed to be her rival or paladin if he couldn’t be anywhere near her? How was she supposed to improve and become Dragon Lord if there was no-one to train with? “Oh, sweetheart,” Blaze said with a sigh. “It’s okay Ember, it’s okay, let it out.” She gently held Ember close to her with her claw before turning her and her daughter away from Torch. Ember believed that she had lost a friend. There were two types of ‘friend’ in the Dragon Lands, if dragons did friends at all. Many were casual whelp friends. They were the children you played with before growing up and moving on to start a life with a mate. Then there was a true friend, where two dragons forged a bond of mutual respect. They would talk often, share secrets and personal gossip with one another, and if something went truly wrong, they could rely on each other for help. Blaze herself enjoyed such a bond with Amber, and she could tell that Ember and Garble had begun forming one as well. What was a whelp to do, when this was torn apart by someone more powerful than them? “Blaze, please, I know you don’t agree with what I did,” Torch began, “but I have a duty as her father to make sure she’s safe. I know I hurt you-” “Get out of this cave,” Blaze said softly, as she gently ran a claw down her weeping daughter’s back. “Blaze-” “Get. Out.” Blaze hissed. The venom in her voice was palpable, but that wasn’t the only thing present. There was a sorrow, a cold chill of betrayal that made his blood run cold. Torch obeyed, and left without saying another word. His head was hung low, and his expression was grim as could be. Hurt didn’t even come close to what he’d done to his mate with his order. He’d broken the same rule twice now, but this time was different. This wasn’t just a curse in a fit of frenzy, or a regular old dragon insult, uttered in a fit of passion. This was a deliberate dagger thrust between his mate’s shoulder’s. He hated to think of it, he prayed that they could be salvaged, but a small part of him was fearful of what his mate would do next. After what he’d done, Blaze had every right to annul their union. A priest, or cleric as they were sometimes called, would likely scoff at the idea at first, but once she told them the reason, he could see how seriously they would take the offense. But did he really break his vows? For dragons, a vow given during a mating ceremony was absolute, save for if it went against their duty as a parent. Yes, he hadn’t respected nor cherished Blaze in this one instance, his unwillingness to debate or hear her out was proof enough, but he did it so he could protect their daughter. Why couldn’t Blaze see that? Ember was too young, but Blaze, she was smarter than everyone, she had to see that what he was doing was right. Perhaps one day, she would. One day. Garble’s return home was met by a torrent of questions from his whole family. “Did you win?!” Spike excitedly asked. “Do I get to be your enforcer?!” He bit his lower lip, eyes wide with joy as he waited for an answer, his tail wagging to and fro. “Do I get to be a duchess?” Smolder asked. She tried to keep a calmness about her, but Garble could see that she was starting to shake with excitement. “What was it about?” Flare finally asked. If Torch was passing on the mantle, there was a snowball’s chance in their land that he’d like it if a ten-year-old succeeded him. Garble began to recount his day, putting the most emphasis on Ember’s status as Princess, a revelation that had Smolder looking at her book, The Princess Promenade, and Spike looking at his book, Burnferno. Both books had opinions on the matter ranging from ‘meant to be’ to ‘proved himself by saving a princess, and now he gets to be a wandering hero and beat up lots and lots of ponies’. Despite being from a book written in Equestria, Burnferno seemed to fight many, many ponies. “Then he singled me out and said I couldn’t play with Ember anymore! I didn’t even do anything to her.” Amber could see the disappointment on her son’s face, and a hint of anger and confusion. Flare let out a humph, muttering to himself about the ungratefulness of the Dragon Lord. After elbowing her mate, lest he poison his son’s mind with thoughts of disobedience towards the Scepter. Amber was about to comfort her son, however, when Spike spoke up first. “So, she won’t keep attacking you. That’s good, isn’t it?” That little drake was too naïve, adorably so. His mother could only shake her head. Yet Garble felt a rush of emotions. Annoyance, anger, pity, and sadness. A small part of him kept telling him to cry, just a little, but he refused. He was a real dragon, dragons never cried. “No, it’s not good, it’s-Just be quiet, Spike,” he snapped. He couldn’t imagine that Spike would understand, how could he? He saw Spike shrink a little. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you mad, it’s just-” “I know,” Garble sighed, his expression softening. “It’s not your fault, it’s just-” He took a breath. “I’m gonna take a walk.” Spike could feel that something was wrong and went to follow Garble, only to be stopped by his mother. “Why’s he leaving? Did I say something wrong?” “A bit.” She saw the pang of guilt that surged through his body. Tears began to well in his eyes as he looked towards his older brother. “You’re not the reason he’s leaving Spike.” Flare said. “He’s upset, Spike. He needs time to process.” “O-okay,” Spike sniffed. Until then, Spike patiently waited at the mouth of his cave for his brother to return. There was only one place Garble could go to vent, without someone interjecting. After a short while he entered a familiar cave and called, “Uncle Smog?” Slowly, a large red dragon trudged to the mouth of his cave, and casually looked around, before setting his sights on the small whelp before him. “Well, if it isn’t my oldest nephew. Does your mother know you’re here?” It had been over a year since the incident involving Spike and Smolder. Smog had still not been allowed near them, mostly on Amber’s orders. “No, I didn’t tell anyone where I was going.” “That’s not the safest thing you can do,” Smog tut-tuted. “Your mother will start to worry. And then, if she finds out you came here…” “I know, I just wanted to talk to you about something.” “Oh? And what is that?” Garble took a seat inside the cave and began to vent. Smog had numerous reactions to his nephew’s escapades with the little princess. Amusement at first, a snicker here and there at Ember’s pontifications, and he even broke out laughing when Garble told him about breaking Arrow’s nose. “It’s not that funny,” Garble grumbled. “It’s not that, lad. I’m just proud of you!” Smog said, wiping tears of mirths from his eyes. “One punch, to defend a princess no less! Your sister must have thought it something out of those books she reads!” “A little bit.” “What else happened?” Garble’s expression turned glum, and after telling him about Torch, so did Smog’s. “I knew Torch wasn’t the brightest, but that’s just asinine.” On a knee-jerk reaction, part of him wanted his nephew to prove he was the threat Torch must think he was. Fortunately common sense, basic decency, and the smallest shred of logic made him see reason. “How are you feeling about it?” “I don’t know,” Garble said. “Spike said that it was good.” There was a tinge of bitterness in his voice, one that Smog was unable to miss. “Don’t be too upset with him. He’s young, naïve, like your father was and like you were. Remember when Smolder was hatched? You were upset because you thought girls couldn't fight, so you couldn’t train with her,” Smog recalled with a chuckle. Garble could feel his cheeks flush at the memory. “That was kinda dumb.” “He’s at that age, Garble. He’ll grow out of it.” “I guess.” “Don’t let this upset you too much,” Smog said. “Torch is being stupid.” “He’s being stupid?” Garble asked. “If a dragon broke Smolder’s ankle, and someone broke his nose for it, I’d welcome the boy into my cave and let him take a few of my gems. No doubt your father would do the same.” “He’s being stupid.” Garble repeated. “Yes.” Smog could see that Garble’s mind was on other things. Perhaps it was time to send him off, but not without a small present. Smog picked out four gems for his nephew and deposited them in a small burlap sack. There were two for Garble, and two more for his siblings to share. It may have seemed unfair, but Garble was the one to actually earn them. “Here, it’s not much, but you and your siblings should enjoy these. Consider them an ‘I miss you all’ gift.” Garble looked inside the bag, and became excited. A fire ruby for Spike, an amber for Smolder, and for him, a pink diamond and a jet. “Thanks, Uncle Smog!” Garble exclaimed before rushing out of the cave. This was the perfect snack to celebrate later tonight. Sometimes his father would make a rule, like no reading, and his mother would then say the rule was stupid. If she did that, the rule was rescinded. It stood to reason that if he got Ember’s mom to hear about Torch’s rule and have her declare it stupid, then even if Torch was the Dragon Lord, he couldn’t do anything to stop him from fighting Ember. Foolproof. It took two hours to find the cave. But soon, Garble came to Torch’s home. He took a step forward and his foot hit one stone, sending it into the cave. Garble felt a low rumble, before Blaze Brightcrest burst from her cave. “I said to get out!” She roared, slamming her claws on the floor. Garble let out a loud yelp of surprise as he was launched into the air by the shock-wave before falling to the ground. “Ow,” he groaned. Blaze’s eyes looked down, and she let out a gasp. It wasn’t Torch, it was little Garbuncle Ironscale. “Oh, I’m so, sorry, little one! I-” The inevitable question came into her mind. “What are you doing here?” “Torch’s order is stupid!” Garble declared, as he pushed himself up off the ground. “Indeed,” said Blaze, without missing a beat. “But I would suggest not saying that to him.” “So, you agree it’s stupid.” “I- yes. Garble, where is this going?” “My mom says that sometimes my dad makes a stupid rule, so she gets final say if we have to follow it. You’re his mate, don’t you get final say on rules like that?” This was adorably naive, making it all the more heart-wrenching how she was now supposed to take his hopes and smash them into the ground. “No, Garble, I don’t. Torch is the Dragon Lord. His word is law. I don’t have the power to rescind his orders, no-one does. Not unless you’re the Dragon Lord.” “Bu-but it’s a stupid order!” “That it is, but it’s his order. There’s nothing I can do.” She expected him to get upset, which he did, but there was something else. He seemed more sad than angry. He began to dig through a bag before pulling out a pink diamond and tossing it at her feet. “What’s this for?” Blaze asked. “Ember, because I’m taking it back from her the next time we fight!” He marched off, leaving a very confused Blaze behind. The little dragon kept marching, until he was back in his cave and in his sleeping spot. Seeing that he was upset, his parents thought it best to give him some space. That night Garble tossed and turned, thinking about what Blaze had said. He couldn’t do anything unless he was the Dragon Lord, like that was the problem. Since he was the Future Dragon Lord, he was going to use his authority to undo Torch’s rule. The next time he saw Ember, they’d be fighting for real.