Fire.

It suffocated him, eating all the oxygen from around him and only leaving slivers for him. He took shallow, quick breaths, trying to steal the air back from the greedy flames and take it for himself.

The fire flickered around him, and he batted it away when it ventured too close for his liking. It was solid, but also fluid, and warm. But each hit sent pins and needles shooting up his arm and vibrating throughout his body.

Tom knew from prior experience that the feeling would only get worse if he tried to dash through the flames to the clear space beyond, but he still dove headfirst into it and tried to wade his way through the hungry fire, needing more than anything to escape.

His legs gave out within seconds and he collapsed to the ground, tingling all over. The flames pressed down on him as he pulled himself back to the eye of the fiery storm. Tom laid on the ground, shuddering uncontrollably and sucking in as much of the limited oxygen that he could.

"Why..." he groaned weakly, using all the air in his lungs to ask a question he didn't expect an answer to.

The flames hissed and popped, whispering a response he couldn't understand. Then they began closing in, slowly but surely bearing down on his prone form.

Tom stumbled to his feet, ignoring his body screaming against him. He kicked out with his numb legs, wincing when a tongue of fire wrapped around his ankle and sending him crashing back to the ground.

Red and orange snakes slithered around him, striking out and sending pulses of electricity through his entire body. Others curled around his limbs and stretched him in all directions.

The zombie man struggled against the tendrils but it was useless, his body stopped doing what he wanted and it was all he could do to continue to draw breath.

Syndicate.

Tom struggled to raise his head, fighting every dead nerve in his body to look up to the place the voice came from. He was aided as a fiery hand threaded through his hair and yanked his head back.

"Fuck!" he swore, taking in a deep breath as he suddenly realized he could breath again. Tom let out a long string of curses as the numbness faded and the pins and needles returned with vengeance.

"What the hell do you want from me!?" The man cried out, involuntary tears springing to his eyes as his tingling nerves began to tremble and ache.

Stop fighting for a moment.

"Fuck you!" Tom shouted.

Watch yourself, Syndicate.

"Who the hell are you?" he growled, tugging against the tongues of flame. A low rumble travelled through the tendrils, and he realized it was a laugh.

The fire suddenly retracted, pulling away from Tom and reforming a few feet away. Caught off guard, he fell flat on his face. His arms shook as he heaved himself onto his knees. He drank in as much air as he could, coughing as his lungs were irritated by the smoke and dust the fire left behind.

Syn, look at me.

Tom's eyelids fluttered; he was suddenly extremely tired. Something in the room was draining his energy. With an enormous effort he lifted his head to see a pair of feet hovering a few inches off the ground.

The fire that had only recently been holding him down was now formed into a body, reaching out a hand to help him to his feet. He grabbed it without thinking, letting the being pull him up. The touch sent a thrill through his arm, but it didn't hurt like it had before. It was now only a pleasant tingle.

He lifted his head to look at the being's face, but the fire it was made of flickered uncertainly, and he couldn't discern any facial features. "Who the hell are you?" Tom asked, all malice gone, left only with simple curiosity. The fire being laughed again.

"What, you don't recognize me? It's been awhile, but I thought your memory was a little better than that." A grisly smile formed in the general area of the being's face.

The zombie man started and he searched the thing for familiarity. The flames continued to flicker, but now that he was looking, the dark eyes within the fire were unmistakable.

Tom sank to one knee and bowed his head, shaking from adrenaline. "My Lord, I..." his mind went blank. What could he say? What does one say to a god that died by his follower's hands? That he was sorry for betraying him and killing him back in Mianite?

Because he wasn't. He'd tried to be. But he couldn't. Even if the guilt had eaten away at him for months now. Even if this dream of fire and brimstone haunted him ever since that night. He wasn't sorry. His loyalty to his friends would always come before the loyalty to his god, no matter what that might cost him.

But this wasn't Dianite from the world of Mianite. The energy emanating from the fiery body in front of him was completely different. It wasn't as intrusive, not as angry. He didn't feel like he had to walk on eggshells to avoid invoking the wrath of this god.

No, the being in front of him felt less like a cruel dictating master and more like a familiar friend. He didn't exactly believe in auras or anything like that, but the fire felt kind, in a clarity that only existed in dreams. And when it knelt beside him and wrapped him in a warm, pleasantly tingly embrace, the tears that ran down his cheeks were from nothing but happiness.

Don't say anything, Syn.

"But, I..."

There's no time for you to stutter out some half assed apology that you don't even mean. Look at me.

Tom raised his eyes to meet his god's.

Syndicate, this world is in ruins. You need to save it. Together, we can bring it back under control.

The zombie man blinked, not quite understanding. "What?"

Dianite's image rolled his eyes. I wonder sometimes why I ended up with you as a follower.

Tom stood up and stepped back, energized by a second burst of adrenaline. He studied the god up and down as several snarky thoughts escaped his mouth without a filter. "I need to save it? Why? Why can't you do it? And why is it in ruins to begin with? Who messed up that job?"

Flames licked at him as they flared out from Dianite. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. I don't know Syndy, who messed up that job?

"That's what I'm asking you!"

I don't have time to answer your questions, you'll have to find the answers on your own. Speak nothing of this to anyone, Syndicate. Just act normal for now, until I can gather the energy to speak again. Don't abuse your power.

"What power?" The man questioned as his god disintegrated into smoke and ash in front of his eyes. His hands flew up to his face to protect it, and a flyaway spark landed harmlessly on the back of his hand.

Harmless, until his hand seized up and fire erupted around it, the pins and needles painfully running through every nerve in his arm. Tom screamed and held his right wrist with his other hand, keeping it away from his body as his hand burst into brilliant red and orange flames.

He screamed again, pain and exhilaration swirling into one and all at once, a fire started in the distance. A tiny flickering pinprick of light he barely noticed past the flames around his green hand. His fingers clenched and unclenched to rid themselves of the pins and needles, and in doing so he sent the strange new feeling through his shoulders and down his back. It ran through his veins, every inch of his body more alive than he'd ever thought possible.

Tom tried to walk towards the fire that had started on the horizon, but he realized after flailing for a minute that he was hovering several inches above the void black ground.

The man tried to get back onto the ground, but he only succeeded in lighting more fires around him. The whole situation would be amusing if he wasn't so terrified and confused. The power running through him vibrated the very air, jumping from one finger to the next as fires sprouted. It crackled and sparked all around him, but it didn't hurt now. Tom laughed, lightheaded with the rush.

He was strong. Stronger than he'd ever been in the last world, even with every bit of magic he could muster. Nothing in Mianite or Ruxomar could compare with the sheer power he was experiencing. This wasn't human power. This was the power of a god.

He relished the feeling.

The world began to spin, the fires all blurring into one bright orange ring in his vision. Then it went black, and he opened his eyes to an unfamiliar room, dim and full of books.

It took him to realize where he was, and the answer didn't exactly comfort him. Tom flipped over and flung an arm around Jordan's waist, unabashedly using his friend as an anchor to this world, to push away his strange dream and get some actual sleep.

The older man snuggled against him in his sleep, and Tom nuzzled the back of his neck affectionately. He absently wished this behavior wasn't limited to dark nights where one or both were drunk, exhausted, or unconscious. But whenever he brought up the topic, Jordan would avert his eyes and awkwardly laugh and find some way to change the subject. Eventually, Tom had stopped asking.

He pecked his friend's neck with a featherlight kiss. One thing at a time. He wanted to figure out what the hell was up with this new world before he focused any energy on a problem he couldn't fix by throwing his fists at it. What they had wasn't broken, so why should he try to fix it?

Jordan hummed softly, and it set Tom's nerves at ease. There was time to worry and think later. Now it was time to sleep.