Stay away.

{if Viviane dead= 1} The rage, the blood, the pain, the corpse of the first woman to ever show me what true love and devotion could look like, all of it are so many brands on my mind. Fire! Fire comes naturally to me, even more so than any form of magic, of course my teachers would all tell you that I was rather slow and messy when it came to pyromancy. Elemental fire, yellow and orange, the same fire humanity uses in so many ways, this fire I have to summon, focus, tame, control.

There is another one, one I couldn't use in front of other mages, a **** more ancient, wilder, untamed, born of madness, flowing through my blood. Keeping it inside requires more effort than letting it out and today I let it loose.

Droplets of blood rise from the ground and my body, they begin to ignite of a green bale-fire and fly around my hands like a swarm of fireflies.

"Raaaarrrrghhhh!! " I roar, I'm past words, past spells and reason. There are only fire, blood and madness left.

The elves had stopped in shock at the defilement of their sacred site but they begin to fill the sky with arrows aimed at me. The world around me is slow, like it is trying to capture Viviane's last moments and stretch them through eternity.

I unleash the swarm of fire drops, they destroy or deviate the arrows, I barely feel the few that scratch me after new misses.

My rage is driving the rest of them towards the elves. Each impact creating a patch of black burnt flesh the size of a coin. Their hair is burning, their bows useless, they are on the ground twisting in pain as more of the living flames are entering their mouth to burn them from inside.

Soon nothing is moving, plumes of smoke are getting out of the dead elves and a few of the trees from the grove are on fire. Viviane is dead, killed by these pointy eared bastards.

I'm covered in blood and some of it is mine.

"I swear on her corpse that I will rid this world of the cursed sons of Gaia. " I declare.

I remove the arrows from her body and clean her. Once Gnash joins me on the small island with my stuff I put a balm and bandages on my various cuts while he digs a grave under one of the flatstones that he raised from the ground.

I lay her gently in the grave, while Gnash is eating parts of the elves. (I have him throw the rest in the lake, to rot in the water.)

"Goodbye my love! There could have been so much... " I tell, but I can't continue. I wipe my tears and leave this glade, setting on fire a few of the sacred trees as a parting gift to the pointy ears.

I get as far away from here as I can, trying to let all of it behind me. Walking even after the night came, I finally set camp and fall to sleep, trying to ignore my wounds and broken heart. {endif}