Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sun hung low, draping the city in a warm, golden hue. Cars passed lazily on the street. Birds chirped. The faint sound of a lawnmower droned from someone's backyard.

Some random teenager, their name doesn't matter, trudged down the sidewalk, backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder, earbuds in, music blasting just enough to drown out the world.

Their mind? Absolutely rotting from school.

Science test was actual war crime levels of pain, forgot my lunch, got called on in class when I wasn’t paying attention, today was absolutely SHIT.

He walked past a row of houses. Somebody was watering their plants. Another neighbor was pulling into their driveway.

Nothing unusual.

They finally reached home, kicked the door shut with their foot, kicked off their shoes, flinged their backpack and hoodie across the room. 

They collapse into their gaming chair and booted up their PC. Their PC hummed to life, monitor glowing like a portal to peace.

Alright, gaming time. No thoughts, head empty, only violence.

Just as they double-click their favorite game, the entire world lurches.

The floor bucks violently. Walls creak. Glasses rattle. A low, horrific rumble shudders through the earth like a monster waking up beneath their feet.

"WHAT THE FU-!" They yelp, grabbing onto their desk as everything shakes. It's violent, terrifying, and then...

Silence.

It ends. Abruptly. Too abruptly.

They sit there, heart hammering out of their chest.

"Bro... what the hell...?"

Their phone starts blowing up.

DUDUW

DUE

DUE 

HOLY SHT

BRO THWEIEA SOMWTJNG UP IN TEHBEKSY

what???

THERES SKMETHING IN THE SJY IM NOG JOKING

LOOK UP

They stumble over to their window, tugging the blinds aside.

And their stomach drops.

It was impossible.

Impossible.

Hanging in the sky, dwarfing clouds, stretching like some biblical wound carved into reality itself, was a portal.

Not some tiny rift.

Not some neat little sci-fi blue swirly thing.

This was monstrous. Towering. Jagged at the edges like broken glass or torn fabric. The colors within it shifted and twisted unnaturally, hues humanity wasn't supposed to see. Deep reds, blinding yellows, swirling black like oil in water.

It stretched across half the sky.

High-pitched, low-frequency humming pulsed from it like the sound was inside your bones.

Smaller sparks, almost like lightning or debris, arced out from its edges.

It was alive.

It was wrong.

And everyone could see it.

TVs everywhere suddenly flicker to life, breaking news overriding normal programming.

[EMERGENCY BROADCAST - DO NOT TURN OFF YOUR TV]

The channel's logo is replaced with a flashing red "BREAKING NEWS" banner. The serious, slightly shaking anchor stares directly into the camera.

"If you are just joining us, we are interrupting all scheduled programming to bring you urgent, breaking coverage of the mysterious phenomenon that has appeared in the sky."

"This... this object, or entity, we are unsure what to even call it at this point, has manifested across multiple countries worldwide, visible in nearly every region. The global scientific community is currently unable to explain its origin or nature."

"Governments around the world are scrambling to coordinate a response. Martial law has NOT been declared at this time, but officials urge all civilians to stay indoors, remain calm, and await further instructions."

"We now go LIVE to our correspondent, Sarah Lim, who is currently near the phenomenon's perimeter.”

The screen cuts to shakier camera footage. A young reporter, Sarah Lim, wearing a bulletproof vest and a windbreaker with the channel logo, stands in front of a chaotic street scene.

Behind her: the sky is utterly dominated by the swirling, impossibly large portal. The faint sound of sirens and helicopters echo around her.

She’s visibly shaken but doing her job.

"Thank you, Daniel. I am currently located about 20 miles outside of the phenomenon's epicenter. I- I cannot stress enough how surreal this situation is."

The camera shakes from a low rumble in the ground.

"Local authorities have set up barricades in an attempt to prevent civilians from getting closer, but as you can see behind me-" 

(The camera pans briefly, some people are on their knees in prayer.

"Lord, forgive our sins... deliver us from this evil..."

Others are crying openly.

"I KNEW this was coming, I TOLD YOU ALL!" screams a doomsday prepper from his front lawn holding a cardboard sign that says “REPENT”.

And yet, others just stare blankly upward, defeated.

"Bro... it’s over. I ain’t even pay off my student loans yet..."

Police cars swarm the streets telling people to go home.

Helicopters hover near the portal but dare not get close.)

"-there is widespread panic and confusion. Many people are... interpreting this event in vastly different ways."

She gestures to a man nearby, clearly distraught, eyes wide.

"Sir, sir, you saw it happen. Can you describe what you witnessed?"

"I- I don't even know how to explain it," the man stammers. "It was like... like the sky just ripped open. It started with this loud humming noise, like metal scraping against metal, and then this... thing just appeared outta nowhere."

"Is it moving? Expanding?" Sarah asks quickly.

"It's been static for now but... sometimes it pulses. Like it's alive."

Another civilian shouts from off-camera:

"IT'S A PORTAL! IT'S A PORTAL TO HELL!”

Sarah looks directly into the camera, her voice tense.

"Speculation is rampant, Daniel. Some believe this is an extraterrestrial event. Others... are calling it divine punishment. Or a warning. Or even the apocalypse itself."

"Military vehicles have begun arriving at the scene, but officials are remaining tight-lipped about their plans."

"What we DO know is that the world is watching, and waiting."

"Daniel?”

The main anchor, Daniel, looks deeply unsettled.

"Thank you, Sarah. Please stay safe."

He turns to camera.

"We are receiving unconfirmed reports that several scientific institutions, including NASA and CERN, are holding emergency briefings at this very moment. Theories range from an unprecedented astronomical event... to a possible interdimensional rift."

"I want to emphasize again, no hostile activity has been observed yet. But the sheer scale of this phenomenon is unlike anything humanity has ever encountered."

"Stay with us. We'll continue to bring you live updates as this story develops.”

They could only stare blankly as the portal pulsed.

“... we are so screwed.”

Chapter Text

The streets of Crossroads buzzed with their usual life, well, as usual as it could get in a world filled with violence and chaotic energy. Sword hummed happily to himself, licking at his ice cream cone as he strolled down the block with Rocket at his side.

“I'm just saying-” Sword spoke between bites. “I DEFINITELY could've won that phight if Overtime lasted longer.”

Rocket snorted. “Yeah right, just admit you're still salty.”

“I'm not!”

“You are!”

“I'm no-”

A low, eerie rumble cuts through the air.

Sword slowed. "…Uh."

The ground beneath them lurched violently.

CRRRRAAAACK-!!

Buildings rattled. Streetlights wobbled. The sky itself seemed to vibrate with a low, dreadful hum.

"WH-WHA!!”

Rocket barely managed to keep his balance, eyes wide. "WHAT IS GOING ON?!"

But as soon as it came… it stopped.

Abrupt. Silent.

The two just stood there, stunned.

“What… the heck was that?!” Sword wheezed out, glancing around. 

Rocket was already checking the sky nervously. "Wait… Sword. Look. Look up."

And when Sword did, his blood ran cold.

Because tearing through the skies of Crossroads, vast, swirling, impossibly huge, was a portal.

A rift so large it practically dwarfed the sun. Unnatural colors crackled along its edges like lightning veins. Its twisted, pulsing glow cast an unnatural hue across the city.

“... What the FUCK.”

Live from Flipside News

The screen flashes red with an URGENT NEWS ALERT banner. The usual calm news music is nowhere to be heard, replaced by the low hum of static and a repeating emergency tone.

Onscreen, we see the Flipside Brothers, Valk and Dom seated at their anchor desk. The studio lights flicker faintly, possibly from the unstable energy in the air. Papers are scattered across the desk, and distant chatter from panicked crew members bleeds faintly into the broadcast.

Valk inhales shakily, the tension in his shoulders is obvious, but his voice comes out even, trained.

“Good evening, this is Valk, bringing you an emergency update on the developing situation over Crossroads.”

“Approximately five minutes ago, a sudden and violent tremor was felt across multiple districts. Authorities initially suspected a localized quake until eyewitness reports began flooding in about what can only be described as a massive rift opening in the sky.”

Dom picks up, his tone smooth but undeniably tight.

“That’s right, Valk. As of now, what we’re seeing isn’t just a visual phenomenon, it’s generating enough energy that even our equipment is struggling to operate normally. We advise all citizens to remain indoors and await further instructions.”

The feed cuts to aerial drone footage.

The portal looms overhead impossibly large, swirling with energy, arcing like lightning through the clouds. Strange symbols shimmer faintly around its edges, pulsing slowly like a heartbeat.

Multiple camera angles show crowds gathered below, many frozen in awe, others running for shelter.

Cut back to Valk.

He shifts in his seat, subtle, but his white-knuckle grip on his papers betrays his nerves.

“For those just tuning in, authorities have not yet determined the cause or origin of this anomaly. Speculation ranges from a catastrophic energy surge… to interdimensional interference.”

“…What we do know is that this event is unprecedented in recorded history.”

Dom nods solemnly.

“We now go live to our field correspondent, Archer, reporting from a rooftop nearby.

The screen glitches faintly from interference.

Archer is gripping their mic tight, their scarf whipping wildly in the wind.

“Dom, Valk, I’m here just beneath the portal’s outer rim. And folks, I have never seen anything like this.”

They gesture wildly behind them.

“It’s not just static up there, this thing is moving. Like it’s alive. I don’t know if cameras can catch it, but you can feel it in the air.”

The camera pans slightly. There are faint, spiraling shapes drifting along the portal's inner edges. Like fragments of shattered glass or floating debris from another world.

Archer yells over the wind.

“We’re also seeing strange gravitational pulls, smaller objects are starting to float upwards the closer they get! Repeat, DO NOT approach this thing!”

Valk exhales slowly through his nose, calm, controlled.

But his eyes betray his fear.

“Thank you, Archer. Please stay safe.”

He straightens in his seat, clearly trying to pull himself together for viewers.

“Once again, to all Inphernals watching, this is an ongoing situation. Remain indoors. Stay informed through official channels. And above all, do not panic.”

Dom adds, quieter.

“…The SFOTH has been alerted. If anyone can handle this, it’s them.”

The screen lingers just a moment longer on Valk.

“We will continue to bring you updates as they develop. Stay safe.”

The screen cuts to static.

Sword was already sprinting home like his life depended on it.

“ohmyGODSOHnOOHSWorDSOHMYGODS-” he wheezed, nearly slipping on his own front steps.

He practically kicked the door open.

"DAD?!!" Sword yelled, voice cracking. "DAD!!”

Venomshank came rushing into view from the kitchen.

"Sword?! What happened?! Are you hurt?!"

"NO- YES- I MEAN- LOOK OUTSIDE!!!" Sword frantically waved his arms. "GIANT PORTAL?! SKY?! HOVERING?! HELLO?!”

Venomshank's expression darkened. "...I know."

That sent Sword reeling. "Wait- you knew?!"

"News got to me first." Venomshank placed both hands firmly on Sword's shoulders. "Listen. I'm going to meet the SFOTH. This... whatever this is, it's far beyond anything normal."

"But- but-"

Venomshank squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

"You'll be safe here. I promise. Stay inside. Lock the doors. I'll return."

And with that Venomshank turned to the exit with calm, powerful strides.

Leaving Sword standing there, heart racing, staring up at the swirling portal through his window.

The rest of the SFOTH was there. Illumina, Ghostwalker, Windforce, Darkheart, Firebrand, even Ice Dagger was there.

Standing on the rooftop of Crossroads Tower, gazing at the impossible sight.

Venomshank arrived last, nodding to the others. The six others were already in a rough formation, each observing the sky in their own way.

Illumina stood front and center, his arms behind his back, posture regal. His expression was unreadable. Cold, calculating.

Darkheart lounged lazily nearby, idly twirling his namesake blade with one hand. His grin never quite left his face, but it was slightly more strained.

Windforce paced, irritated, muttering under her breath.

Ice Dagger frowned deeply, cowering slightly behind them.

Ghostwalker stood motionless, arms crossed. Silent. Cold.

And Firebrand stood near the edge, looking skyward.

“I suppose we’re all seeing it now,” Windforce snapped, her voice slicing through the silence. “That thing doesn’t just look dangerous. It feels like it wants to unmake something.”

Ghostwalker’s voice was low. Steady. Unemotional.

“If it is not of our world… then it is a breach. A threat.”

Ice Dagger finally spoke. “…But it hasn’t… done anything. Yet.”

Illumina’s eyes narrowed. “That we know of. This could be the calm before devastation.”

 “Or the start of something even worse,” Windforce added. “A second sun in the sky? A tear in reality? Come on. This screams disaster.”

Firebrand stepped forward slightly.

“Then we must act. But not rashly. We don’t know what lies on the other side. We need information before we make any move that could escalate things.”

Darkheart raised a brow.

“How quaint. You want to knock and ask politely?”

Firebrand didn’t rise to it.

“Yes. If possible. Violence is a last resort, not a greeting.”

Illumina’s eyes flicked to Firebrand.

“Then you intend to be our envoy?”

“I do.”

“I will go.” Illumina said it firmly, like it was a decree, not a proposal.

The air changed.

Windforce scoffed. “Of course you will.”

Firebrand turned toward him, steady.

“With respect, Illumina, if we send you and it is a trap — we risk losing our strongest link. That’s not a risk we can afford.”

Illumina’s jaw clenched. “You imply I cannot handle a simple investigation?”

“No,” Firebrand said quietly, “I imply that you’re too important to risk on a first step into the unknown.”

There was a pause. A heavy one.

Surprisingly, Ghostwalker nodded in agreement.

“Logic supports Firebrand’s approach. He is both powerful and diplomatic. His judgment is stable.”

Windforce snorted. “We’re listening to the tin can now?”

Darkheart smirked. “I like this. We’re finally arguing like old times.”

Ice Dagger, still near the edge, looked up hesitantly.

“…I agree. Firebrand… will be kind. If there’s someone on the other side… he won’t scare them.”

That made everyone pause for a moment.

Illumina regarded Firebrand for several seconds, unreadable, his gaze sharp and ancient.

Then…

“Very well,” he said at last. “You will go.”

Firebrand bowed his head, respectful but resolute. “Thank you.”

Venomshank finally stepped forward for the first time. “If Firebrand goes, we must prepare contingency plans. What happens if the portal closes? What if he is captured? If there is war?”

Ghostwalker replied, “We regroup. Reinforce Crossroads. We do not panic. We wait.”

Windforce sighed. “And if nothing happens? What, we all just sit around and hope?”

Firebrand turned to face them all.

“Then I will return. With answers.”

He moved to the edge of the platform, his wings slowly unfurling. The wind kicked up as if the world itself were responding.

“For all our sakes,” Firebrand said quietly, “let’s hope this is a meeting… not a battle.”

And with a powerful leap and the thunderclap of wings, Firebrand soared skyward, straight toward the waiting portal.

The others watched in silence as he was swallowed whole by the rift.

Chapter Text

Location: Perimeter 01 - 4.6 miles from the Portal Epicenter

Time: 19:07 - five hours after appearance

The ground was packed with boots, armor, tension, and caffeine.

Helicopters thundered above in rhythmic circles, spotlights crisscrossing the darkening sky. Massive floodlights blazed across the makeshift perimeter that had been set up, fencing, barricades, vehicle lines, temporary command shelters. It was a rush job, but it looked like order. For now.

Private Mason shifted his rifle in his hands, glancing toward the horizon. He had never seen anything like it. No one had.

The portal, massive, swirling, churning with deep reds and golds, loomed above the city like an open eye. It didn’t move. It didn’t speak. But every now and then… it pulsed. Just once. A heartbeat. And that was somehow worse than movement.

“You’d think something that big would be louder,” muttered Sergeant Vale beside him.

Mason didn’t answer. He just kept watching.

Inside the command tent, the atmosphere was tenser than the steel tables.

“Status report,” barked Commander Reyes.

“Civilians pushed back to a safe radius. FAA grounded everything not military. We’ve got eyes from here to six hundred miles out,” replied an air traffic specialist.

“Good. Let’s keep it clean. No one moves unless I say so. That thing blinks the wrong way, I want artillery warmed up before it finishes.”

Reyes turned to the live feed, a high-res, zoomed-in shot of the portal from Drone 2-Alpha. It was stable. It had been for five hours. But that didn’t make anyone breathe easier.

Out on the field, chatter hummed across radios.

“Squad in position.”

“Team at the north arc.”

“Sniper nests confirm clear visuals.”

“Skywatch has rotation coverage locked.”

“Still nothing from inside?”

“Still nothing. Not even a damn bird.”

Private Juno exhaled through her nose, crouched behind the mounted railgun.

“Feels like waiting for a horror movie jump scare.”

“You’re the one who watches those?” Mason muttered.

“Helps me stay alert.”

“You’re twisted.”

The banter fizzled. The tension didn’t.

Then the portal pulsed. Hard.

A flash of gold lightning rippled through the clouds, the portal shimmered violently.

“Movement!”

“Everyone on alert, full lockdown formation!”

“Brace! This is it!”

Weapons clicked. Barrels turned. Radar scrambled for readings, thermal, bio-signs, anything.

A low boom sounded from within the rift. A swirl of energy compressed at the center like an implosion about to reverse.

And then, something fell out.

Not a blast. Not a creature charging.

A shape. Humanoid. Big. It dropped like a meteor, wings flared wide, then staggered to the ground.

Dust burst into the air from the impact. Cameras zoomed in. Soldiers shouted.

“Target landed! Repeat, target landed!”

“Unknown entity on the ground! Standing posture! Doesn’t match human profile!”

“COMMAND, do we have fire clearance?!”

Commander Reyes didn’t hesitate.

“ALL UNITS, FIRE AT WILL!”

But just as the order was given, the figure raised its hands quickly, stumbling, then thrusting them forward in a near panic. A deep, booming voice rang out:

“WAIT! WAIT HOLD ON! HOLD ON, PLEASE!”

That stopped them. Not the sound, but the way he said it. The way he flinched.

Snipers paused. Rockets froze in their launchers. The frontline soldiers stared.

“He’s talking. He’s speaking English.”

“What the hell kind of suit is that?”

“That’s… not a suit.”

The being, tall, elegant in shape, with a glowing brooch on his chest and a strange feathered scarf hanging from his shoulders looked… alien. No, not quite. He looked wrong to their expectations. One horn twisted from the side of his face, but his expression wasn’t monstrous.

He looked like he was trying to catch his breath.

“Please-" he gasped again. "I mean no harm. I just- I need to speak to someone.”

Reyes barked through the command mic.

“Hold fire. Repeat, hold fire. Do NOT shoot unless the entity makes a hostile move.”

“What the fuck is happening,” Mason whispered.

Juno didn’t lower her rifle, but she was blinking fast. “Did he just apologize?”

A field officer with a loudspeaker stepped up, heart pounding.

“You’re surrounded. Do not make sudden moves. Who, or what are you?”

The being looked up slowly. He spoke again, voice deeper than human, but measured. Calm.

“I… I am Firebrand. I come from another world. Through the portal. I mean no threat to yours.”

The name meant nothing. But the tone, that strange, aching sincerity, caused a stir over the radios.

“He’s diplomatic?”

“Is this a first contact situation?”

“We need linguists, negotiators, anyone-”

“Already pinged Homeland and international,” Reyes growled. “This just became planetary.”

The trip through the portal was unpleasant, to say the least.

There was no wind. No light. No sound in the way one would understand it. Only color, violent, surging, unnatural hues that convulsed and shifted without logic. Deep crimsons melted into pale yellows, jagged shards of blue raked across his vision like claws, all pulsing with the awful rhythm of a heart that was not his own.

He shut his eye. It didn't help.

He could feel something gnawing at the edge of his mind, reality itself unthreading, but he had to keep going. For the Inpherno. For the ones watching. He clenched his fists, steadying his breath even as his body twisted with the current of the void.

His wings pressed tighter to his back. His breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t tell which direction was up.

And then-

There was ground.

Firebrand slammed into it unceremoniously, stumbling forward on impact. He caught himself on one knee, clawed fingers scraping against the dirt. His cravat was askew, scarf tangled around his shoulder.

His chest heaved. His vision blurred. His sweat steamed in the air.

“Wha… what-” His voice cracked. The sky… it was dark, it was night. But it was different. Not like home. Not like home at all.

The first sound he truly heard was shouting.

Dozens of it. Not one, not two, a chorus of urgent commands, of war.

Then came the clicks.

Weapons. All of them. Pointed. At him.

He froze.

In front of him: strange creatures. Their bodies shaped like his, but their eyes… filled with terror.

“COMMAND, do we have fire clearance?!”

No. Nononononono.

“WAIT! WAIT HOLD ON! HOLD ON, PLEASE!”

Hands up. Palms open. Body low.

He didn’t want to be seen this way. Not fearful. Not trembling. But he’d already heard the order. He knew what it meant. If he delayed even a heartbeat longer, there would be fire.

“Please-" he gasped, trying to catch his breath. "I mean no harm. I just- I need to speak to someone.”

Their eyes narrowed. Their weapons didn’t lower.

“You’re surrounded. Do not make sudden moves. Who, or what, are you?”

Firebrand stood straighter. He tried not to shake.

He adjusted his voice, drawing on every bit of diplomatic calm he'd practiced as Crossroads’ founder.

“I… I am Firebrand. I come from another world. Through the portal. I mean no threat to yours.”

The silence that followed was crushing. Every moment stretched impossibly long.

Then several figures approached. One held a megaphone to their mouth. Others circled him cautiously, forming a tighter ring. There was tension in every breath.

“...Step away from the portal,” one commanded. “We’re going to detain you. Follow instructions exactly.”

Firebrand didn’t resist. He lowered his hands slowly. “Very well,” he said quietly. “I understand.”

They were frightened. That much was obvious.

Two soldiers approached him with metal restraints. Their hands trembled.

“Place your hands behind your back.”

He complied. The cuffs snapped around his wrists, and immediately hissed.

Melted. Straight through.

The metal twisted like wax. One soldier recoiled and dropped them with a panicked curse. “Jesus-!”

“What the- what the hell is his body temp?!”

“That was titanium! It just- it-!”

Firebrand sighed gently and shook his head. “I did warn you I was not quite like your people.”

Their weapons rose again, not all, but some. The panic was contagious.

“Hold your positions!” barked someone further back. “Hold! He hasn’t moved!”

Firebrand raised both hands again, trying his best to stay composed. “If it eases your concern, I will come with you willingly. There’s no need for restraint.”

They hesitated. Someone nodded.

“Bring in a transport. Now.”

A vehicle approached. Blocky. Large. Yet still… not large enough.

The side door opened, and Firebrand stepped forward, only to awkwardly crouch. His horn scraped the doorframe, and his scarf snagged on a bolt.

He ducked lower.

“Ah, pardon me, this- this is rather compact…”

Inside, the soldiers looked at him like he might explode. No one spoke. No one even breathed too loudly.

He settled on the bench, knees bent, trying not to tower too dramatically. One soldier swallowed. Another kept their hand on their holster.

Outside, the vehicle began to move. The gate closed. The buzz of rotors grew distant.

Firebrand stared ahead, posture calm, even regal, despite the ache in his limbs and the weight of too many unknowns pressing into his back.

His eye flicked to the side window, to the buildings and trees blurring past.

He didn’t know what awaited. He didn’t know how these humans would respond next. He only knew one thing.

Today was going to be a very long day.

Chapter Text

Firebrand sat hunched, hands folded loosely in his lap, wings pressed tight against his back so as not to crowd the guards sitting across from him.

None of them spoke.

He understood their fear. His height, his horn, the lingering heat radiating off his skin, everything about him was foreign to them. Even so, the silence was exhausting. 

Not long later, the vehicle stopped. Doors opened. Firebrand ducked again to exit, carefully shifting his scarf to keep it from catching. The facility before him was cold,all concrete and iron. A wall of walls. Built not for comfort, but containment.

“This way. Slowly,” said the soldier beside him.

He complied.

Firebrand had to duck under nearly every doorway, twisting slightly to fit his wings through narrow passages. The guards kept glancing, not just at his height, but the glowing embers drifting subtly off his skin like ash that never burned out.

Each hallway smelled of recycled air and sterilized surfaces. His boots clicked on the floor, echoing against the narrow, windowless corridors. The guards walked in step with him. He noticed the tension in their posture, trained, yes, but uncertain. As if they weren’t sure if they were escorting a guest or a bomb.

Eventually, they reached the room.

It was plain. Metallic table. Two chairs. One camera in the corner with a blinking red light. He wasn’t shackled, not that they could if they tried, but the message was clear.

You are not in control.

“Sit.”

He did, carefully lowering himself into the chair with deliberate grace to keep his wings from bumping the wall behind him. His knees rose slightly, too tall for the furniture. He folded his hands again.

The door closed behind him.

He was alone for a time. He didn’t know how long, but it was long enough to calm his breathing and gather himself. Long enough for doubt to creep in at the edges of his thoughts.

Then the door opened.

Two people entered. One in uniform, decorated with symbols and medals. The other held a clipboard, eyes hidden behind reflective lenses. Analyst, perhaps.

They sat opposite of him.

“We’re going to ask you some questions. For your safety, and ours, we suggest you answer them clearly and truthfully,” said the one with the clipboard. 

Firebrand inclined his head politely. “I would expect no less.”

They blinked, caught slightly off-guard by his eloquence.

“Let’s start with the basics. Name?”

“Firebrand.”

“Is that your real name?”

He tilted his head. “It is the only one I have.”

The other one leaned forward slightly, fingers steepled.

“What’s your gender?”

Firebrand raised an eyebrow. “...Male.”

The interviewer jotted it down with a flick of their pen. They looked at him again.

“Species?”

“Inphernal,” Firebrand answered smoothly.

They raised an eyebrow but jotted it down.

“What is your status? Are you affiliated with a group, or are you royalty?”

“I am a god,” he said plainly. “And the founder of Crossroads, a neutral city built to house and unite our kind.”

That earned a silence.

“Are there others like you?”

“If you mean by divinity,” he said slowly, “yes. I have siblings, other gods. If you mean species, then yes. Many Inphernals exist in my world.”

They scribbled more notes.

“Are there any weapons on your person?”

“No,” Firebrand answered, though he briefly looked at his hand. “Not at the moment. Technically, my gear is not summoned.

“A gear?” the soldier repeated. “What’s that?”

Firebrand blinked. “You… don’t know what a gear is?”

A pause.

“No.”

“Is that… not a thing here?” he asked, genuinely bewildered.

“It’s not.”

He took a slow breath, shoulders shifting as he considered how to phrase it.

“A gear is a weapon every Inphernal spawns 

with. It is… integral. Like a limb you summon. It is a manifestation of who we are, and how we fight.”

They looked up sharply.

“‘Spawns’?”

The analyst's voice was laced with suspicion.

“Yes…, spawned.” Firebrand said cautiously

There was a long pause. They exchanged a look.

“Can we see it?” the soldier asked. “Your gear.”

Firebrand hesitated.

A few seconds passed. Then, without a word, he brought his hand up.

A swirling flicker of light appeared in his palm, golden fire that twisted without burning. The heat rose in the room as he curled his fingers around the forming hilt.

With a low hum, his gear appeared.

It was a striking thing, deep burgundy and shaped like a cutlass. The spine of the blade shimmered with a gradient of yellow to bright orange, glowing like a forge just before sunrise. Flame-like decorations curled from the guard opposite the edge, dancing without motion. Three luminous ovate pieces sat near the tip, one above the other, glowing brighter as they descended.

The interrogators stared, wide-eyed. One even leaned forward slightly, as if the weapon might evaporate if they blinked.

“I will not use it,” Firebrand said calmly. “But I want you to understand that it is part of me. Not separate.”

After a few more moments, he allowed it to vanish, the blade flickering into embers that scattered before fading entirely.

They resumed scribbling. The heat still lingered in the air.

Finally, the analyst stood and nodded toward the door.

“You’ll be relocated. You’ll stay the night in a secure location while we analyze this further.”

Firebrand stood, carefully, slowly. The ceiling was just barely high enough for him to straighten his back. His horn brushed a light fixture.

These… people build so small.

Still, he followed them without resistance.

The room they gave him was small.

Not cruel, just small.

A cot in the corner, too short for his legs. A single desk, bolted to the floor. Four walls of clean, pale concrete. No bars, but the locked door and quiet click of the surveillance camera were loud enough reminders of what this was.

It wasn’t a prison.

But it wasn’t freedom.

He ducked again to enter, wings folding tight against his back. The ceiling hung lower than comfort, the corners closing in like a shrinking box. He exhaled softly, letting out a puff of embered breath that faded into the cool air. His golden eye scanned the room once, twice. Nothing hidden. Nothing dangerous. 

They’d even provided something folded at the foot of the cot. A towel, perhaps? Or a blanket. He couldn’t tell. The fabric was coarse but clean. Sterile. Woven without soul, but effort was still effort.

He appreciated that.

Firebrand sat on the edge of the cot. It creaked beneath his weight, and the metal legs scraped slightly against the floor. He didn’t bother removing his boots, the thought of asking someone for accommodation felt almost laughable. So he just sat. Quiet. Warm breath washing over his clasped hands.

He took another deep breath.

They did not harm him. They listened. They let him speak.

That counted for something.

He pulled his legs up slightly, adjusting so his knees wouldn’t dangle awkwardly over the edge. Even curled slightly, he dwarfed the cot, his wings lightly brushed the walls on either side.

He missed the open air already.

He could still see the portal as he passed through it, shifting lights and the harsh cold squeeze on his body as space unraveled and reknit itself.

It had felt like breaking.

And now he sat in a room made for something, someone, half his size, waiting for judgment.

I chose this.

The thought didn’t comfort him. But it anchored him. It reminded him why he was here, not for conquest. Not for fear.

For understanding.

Something buzzed on the other side of the wall. Voices, muffled through some unseen intercom. He didn’t try to listen. He just closed his eye.

Minutes passed. Or hours. It was hard to tell in this colorless, windowless place.

Eventually, footsteps approached. Firm. Not hurried. A gentle knock on the door followed.

“We’ve brought food.”

Firebrand opened his eye.

“Come in.”

A guard entered, cautious but not aggressive. They held a metal tray with gloved hands, a sealed cup and simple food resting neatly atop it.

They placed it on the desk. “This is the best we could do without knowing your physiology.”

Firebrand nodded. “Thank you.”

The guard hesitated. “Are you… feeling okay?”

A strange question.

The god smiled faintly. “I am alive. And conscious. That is more than many who enter unknown lands can say.”

The guard didn’t reply. They gave a polite nod and backed out slowly. The door clicked shut again.

Firebrand approached the desk.

It was some kind of sandwich. Cold. Meat and green leaves pressed between pale bread. A side of fruit, or what looked like it, sliced into cautious triangles. And water. Purified and sealed. No flame. No spice. No salt.

Still.

He tried it.

The first bite was dull. Soft. But edible. The water was cold, he didn’t like that. He preferred warmth, even in drink. But it didn’t burn, and it settled his throat.

He didn’t finish everything. But he made the effort.

Afterward, he returned to the cot. Lowered himself again. Let his body relax as much as the space allowed.

He closed his eye.

The world behind his lid glowed orange. He imagined the lights of Crossroads. The constant hum of life.

He missed it already.

But the mission was not over. This was only the first step.

He could feel it deep in his core, the world above was watching. His presence had shifted something. And even now, in this cold room on an unfamiliar planet...

The fire inside him had not dimmed.

They will learn.

They will listen.

And I will not let this be in vain.

And so, the god of flame slept in a metal room too small for his wings, eye closed, breath steady, as the world watched through glass.

The portal still loomed in the sky like a shattered wound in reality. Its colors churned and shimmered unnaturally, casting a sickly light across the Crossroads. The sun has long since set, but the unease hung in the air like smoke.

No one spoke at first.

They just stared at the place where Firebrand had vanished. Windforce stood with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her usual proud expression replaced with the clenched jaw of restraint. Illumina's violet robes shifted slightly as the wind picked up, but he didn’t move. He hadn’t even blinked.

“…So?” Darkheart’s voice broke the silence, the mischievous lilt absent for once. “Are we just going to stand here? He’s been gone too long. It's been what, 5 hours?”

“Gah, we should have known more before we let someone go in,” Windforce snapped. “And we let him go first? Really? He’s the kindest of us, not the strongest!”

Illumina’s head turned sharply toward her, eyes glowing faintly. “I was going to go first.”

“Firebrand is strong in ways you and I are not,” said Venomshank, stepping forward from where he’d been silent beside the others. His voice was cool, but his knuckles were white around the hilt of his sword. “He believes in diplomacy. In understanding.”

“He could also be dead,” muttered Windforce, quieter this time.

Ice Dagger was silent, his gaze fixed on the portal, his hands clutched tightly to his arms. His breathing was uneven, and his lips were drawn in a line. His voice was soft but carried: “We can’t lose him…”

“We won’t,” Ghostwalker replied, with conviction more robotic than reassuring.

“I want to go after him,” Windforce said firmly. “Right now.”

“No.” Illumina’s response was immediate. “That’s exactly what we don’t do. If we go in blind, we risk all of us falling into a trap, or worse, panicking the other side.”

“The other side?” Darkheart raised an eyebrow. “You think this is a meeting? That they rolled out a glowing void carpet just to have tea with us?”

Illumina didn’t answer right away.

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “But I do know that if we all go in at once, the Inpherno will be leaderless. That is unacceptable.”

“Then what’s the plan?” Venomshank asked, tone dark.

A long silence.

Then Illumina spoke, tone heavy with command. “We wait twenty-four hours. If we don’t hear from him, I’ll go next. Alone. And if I don’t return, then Windforce. Then Darkheart. Then Ghostwalker.”

“Ice Dagger and I stay last?” Venomshank asked.

Illumina nodded. “If this spirals, you’ll need to anchor what remains.”

“I’m not letting this spiral,” Windforce muttered. “I don’t like waiting.”

“No one does,” Ghostwalker agreed.

Venomshank turned away from the group slightly, eyes drifting up to the swirling void. “Be safe, Firebrand…”

And far above them, the portal pulsed again, softly this time. Like a heartbeat.

Chapter Text

It was a cool dusk in the city, but Firebrand didn’t feel the wind.

He’d just left a painfully frustrating meeting with a global council. They called it a “summit,” but it felt more like a circle of cowardice, finger-pointing, and political posturing. No progress. No plan. Just arguing over who would take the blame if the portal turned catastrophic.

He needed time to think. To breathe. So he walked, wings folded tightly behind him, his regal boots echoing softly against the pavement. He stood out, how could he not? Tall, dark-grey skin. A sharp crimson horn spiraling from the side of his face. A tailored burgundy suit with soft yellow lining and a proud red boa draped across one shoulder. Glowing brooch. Radiant eyes.

He didn’t just stand out, he commanded space.

But then the voices started.

A group of men, maybe five or six, loitered outside a convenience store. Cheap beer in hand. The moment they saw him, they hushed, then snickered. One of them stepped forward, sneering.

“Yo, look at this cosplay reject. Halloween came early.”

“What, is this some kind of drag act?” another laughed. “You lost, princess?”

Firebrand blinked. He turned, slow and measured. “I beg your pardon?”

“Dude, you got a boa on. You glowing like a Christmas tree. What man dresses like that?” The speaker stepped forward, puffed up. “You one of those pronoun people or something? What the hell are you even supposed to be?”

Firebrand opened his mouth, paused. He was used to being stared at, the portal changed everything, after all. But this wasn’t awe. It was derision. It felt... vile.

“I am Firebrand,” he said simply. “From another world. My attire is my own.”

“Firebrand?” one scoffed. “Sounds like a stripper name.”

The others cackled.

“He’s probably not even a guy,” one muttered loudly. “Ain’t no way. Look at ‘er. Talkin’ all soft. Probably some mentally ill chick calling herself a god.”

“Nah,” another snorted, “probably some castrated freak. Bet there’s not even a dick under that suit. Just a big ol’ lie.”

“Man, I don’t care what she says, you act like that, dress like that, you ain’t no real man. You’re a fuckin’ embarrassment. A genderless Barbie doll.”

Firebrand froze.

He had endured war. He had stared down annihilation. But this... this wasn’t even hate born of fear. This was hate born of smallness. Of insecurity. Of desperation to feel superior to something divine.

He stepped closer. The air grew still, the sky subtly darker. His eyes glowed faintly brighter.

“Is that what you believe?” he asked, voice velvet, laced with steel. “That strength is in cruelty? That masculinity is measured by how loud you belittle others? That gentleness makes one less of a man?”

The leader of the group laughed again, fake bravado hiding his flinch.

“All I know is, men don’t walk around in suits made for ballroom fairies acting like some enlightened space tranny.”

That word.

That word.

Firebrand’s horn pulsed dimly. His fingers twitched at his sides. Power surged in his spine like lightning begging to strike.

For a second, just one second, he saw it. The vision of these men turned to ash. Their bodies smote in an instant. It would be easy. Easier than breathing.

But he didn’t.

He clenched his jaw, breathing slow and deep. A tremble ran through his wings. Not here. Not now.

“You are afraid,” he said at last. “And I pity you.”

“Pity?” the leader mocked. “Man, fuck off back to whatever fake-ass utopia you fell out of. You ain't welcome here, freak.”

“She’s a woman,” one of the others muttered. “Just a woman with a man’s voice. Pretending.”

“No, she’s not even that. She’s unnatural.”

Firebrand turned. Slowly. And walked away.

Their voices followed him.

“Guess that’s what happens when aliens try to play God.”

“Musta been a failed science experiment.”

“Ain’t no man acts like that unless she’s hiding something.”

He walked on, fists clenched, heart beating like a war drum beneath his ribs.