He rises, the fiery whips gone, and for a moment I think he’s done fighting me. But then his entire naked body begins to glow molten, like an ember stoked to fresh fierce heat. Even his hair is aflame, though it doesn’t burn. Incandescent, white-hot with flickering amber edges, the Ash King stalks toward me. I empty the urn and pull more water from his washstand. As he charges, I encase myself completely, head to toe, in a shimmering suit of water. We crash together, fire and water sizzling into steam, both of us crying out with the pain of it. Somehow, when his heat and my water combine, I
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