(This is the story text from the corresponding Radio Cataclysm podcast episode. If you prefer audio, you can subscribe here. Read and listen early on Patreon.)

The ground was littered with luminescent flakes. The Colonel scooped up a handful and held them to his face. “What are they?” he asked.

“Chaff,” said John. He picked up one of the flakes between his thumb and forefinger. It looked like the petal of a flower. It pulsed with white light. He sniffed it. Its light briefly dimmed as he inhaled. “It's shed by the forest, like a snake sheds its skin.”

“What use does it have?” said the Colonel.

“Depends on your purpose,” said John. He picked up a few more petals and rubbed them between his palms, rolling them into tiny cigar shapes. As he rolled the chaff, the light left it, went somewhere else, and a dozen baby snakes fell from his hands. They slithered into the undergrowth and were gone.

“Collect some of that, Chad,” said the Colonel. “We may find a use for it.”

“What have we here?” said Zeck. A metallic object shaped like a tin can stuck halfway out of the dirt. It had a chrome finish that was still surprisingly shiny.

“Careful with that,” said John.

“What is it?” asked the Colonel. Zeck turned the object over in his hands. A small amount of gritty dust sprinkled out.

“I'm not one hundred percent certain,” said John, “but it has the look of an irker.”

“What's a nerker?” said Zeck.

“An. Irker,” said John. “Little devices that fly around, making noise and flashing lights. Resistance used them to confuse targeting systems and distract soldiers. An annoyance, mostly.”

Zeck shook the irker next to his ear.

“Although, they did sometimes put explosives inside,” said John.

Zeck tossed the irker away reflexively. Everybody braced for an explosion, but all that came was a low-pitched whine that drooped into silence.

Steven turned the irker over with his boot. “I could probably do something with this,” he said. “I bet the power source is shot, but it might have some components we can use. We can always use scrap for repair. Or for cobbling together weapons, shields, communicators, stuff like that.”

“If you think it's useful, by all means,” said the Colonel. “Toss it in the horse. Make a note of all new inventory, Chad.”

John led them on through the ruins. His staff dipped toward the ground. He sniffed. “The river,” he said. “It runs beneath. Through the middle. It comes in coal black. The forest drinks it up and spits it out clean, pure and clear.”

“You're starting to sound like the skeleton nymph,” said the Colonel.

“This way,” said John. “There's something different. A quiet place. A box of wires. It sleeps.”

“Bloody dryads,” said Corporal Bunting. “They've got the sack to build a forest on a perfectly good ruins, but they whip out the thorns and vines as soon as they whiff a little fire. I don't know what it's so mad about; most forests like a good fire now and then. Believe me, I know.” He looked around, as it to see if the woods were listening. “If we ever get back to Churlia, I'm coming back here with a raisin squad. And I'm bringing marshmallows.”

“What's a raisin squad?” asked Murkle.

“Comes from R-A-Z razing,” said Bunting. “That's what they do. They just raze everything in sight. Lay it out nice and smooth. A well-cleared land is the foundation of Empire. Do it right, and you can lay a city out as easy as spreading a picnic blanket.”

“Ah,” said Murkle. “It's not to be done lightly, you know.”

“Wassat?”

“Burning. It shouldn't be done cavalierly.”

“No, no, of course not,” said Bunting. “I take it very seriously as a profession. But that doesn't mean I can't enjoy it.” He elbowed Murkle, who didn't reply. “Anyway, I thought you Caustics were all about the fire and consumption.”

“I'm not Consumptive Caustic. I'm from the reformed branch of the Church. We believe in a world of balance. And fire doesn't always mean literal flame. There's also the phlox that sustains all life.” He looked around at the clearing and took a deep breath. “It smells like water here. I smelled it when we entered the forest, but it's even stronger here in the clearing. Like fresh rain and hose water, mixed together.”

Bunting sniffed. “I can't smell much of anything these days. Took a flame spout right up the nose a few years back. Pretty much burned away whatever it is you use to smell with. Can't taste much, either, as a result.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” said Murkle.

Bunting shrugged. “I never got that much out of food, anyway. Just shovel it in. Never cared if it was hamburger or filet mignon. In fact, I'd prefer the hamburger; less chewing. And it's not like I work in a flower shop. If you've ever been inside of a Submag, you'll know that between the chemicals, the sweat, and the indigestion, not being able to smell anything is short of a godsend. Your people might really believe that, I guess. Seeing as it was fire that did my sniffer in.”

“That which destroys also sustains,” said Murkle. “It's rich here. I can feel it. There's phlox in every lamplight.”

“You really like it here, eh?” said Bunting.

“It's... invigorating. It's also quite discomfiting. I feel a joy in my heart when I take a breath. But also a heaviness. As the impure flame casts smoke, there's still much that's unclean in this place.”

“Well, I'll say this much for it,” said Bunting, gazing up at the canopy. “You can't see that nasty purple sky in here.”

Murkle followed his gaze. “A blessing, to be sure.”

“Do you figure it's some sort of bad omen? The purple sky?”

“I don't believe in omens,” said Murkle. “Do you?”

“No, I just thought,” Bunting started, then started again. “I never really studied Causticism. I mean, we all went to the services when I was in the academy. Maybe not every week, but at least a couple of times. I may or may not have been a tad hung over during the sermons. It was a good show, though. I mean, not show, I didn't mean that, it's just, they did some things I never seen before, all the firework stuff... I didn't mean to call it a show.”

“It's all right,” said Murkle. “The fire dancing is very beautiful. And I do enjoy the fire breathers. On Solstices, there are full-body conflagrations and elemental torsion sculpting.”

“I've no idea what half of that means.”

Murkle smiled. “It means they put on a good show.”

“I've never been to a Solstice service. Not at any of the temples, anyway. There's a Caustic monk on every ship, and they always do a reading and a little bit of flash-and-burn. I've been in the Tephra for thirty years, but I never had much of an interest in the Church. I know it's all about fire, and you burn your skin with that stick every morning. And you've got all them sigils on your head. But, I don't know. I figured maybe the purple sky was a sign of the end times, or something.”

“Not in Causticism,” said Murkle. “But perhaps it is, anyway. Plumwine's influence grows. And we are but few, cut off from home and help.”

“A bit of a dour outlook, that.”

“Sorry,” said Murkle.

“Don't be sorry,” said Bunting. “It's the most I've heard you say since I met you. You're not the most talkative fellow. They don't make you take a vow of silence back at the temple, do they?”

“No,” said Murkle. “We don't do vows of silence. We just tend to be... poorly socialized. Those raised in the Pyrosterion tend to stay in the Pyrosterion. It's not forbidden to leave, but most don't, save for small errands.”

“What, you mean they spend their whole lives there? Grow old and die, all in the temple?”

“Well, some leave when they come of age. Some stay. Some don't join until later in life. But yes, there are those who spend their entire lives in service to the temple.”

“So, what made you wanna leave? If you don't mind my asking.”

“I was looking for a more active way to serve. The war was a victory for the Empire, but for the Caustics, it was a disaster. To this day, the Tephra are associated with Consumptive Causticism. Most of the Caustic monks who serve in the military are from the Consumptive order. But most of us aren't like that. All destruction and death. Most Caustics find it vulgar. Brother Orso suggested I join the Tephra so that I might present an example of the good we can do in the world. Show that we can help instead of hurt. Father Tuin was against it. He's my old mentor. He may be the wisest Caustic in our order, but I don't think he understands why I chose to join. If I can bring him stories of people we've helped, lost souls we've converted to Causticism, wounds we've healed, of both body and soul, I think maybe he'll understand. Of course, I've yet to have a chance to do any of that, but I haven't been out here long.”

“So, this is truly your first deployment?”

Murkle nodded. “After graduation, I had a fortnight to spend in the Pyrosterion, to say my goodbyes. Then they shipped me to Brazil. I spent two days there before Colonel Destroyer came and collected us. Said it was a secret mission, and he needed all the Tephra he could get.”

“So, back in the Hinterlands,” said Bunting, “that was your entire squad.”

Murkle nodded. “Didn't get a chance to know them, really. Except for Brother Thomas and Sister Caren. They grew up in the Temple, too.”

“I lost my squad, too,” said Bunting. “Some of them I've served with since the beginning. Martin Hannick, now he was a good soldier. Nobody else could do a controlled burn like him. Very focused. Aaron Bolcomb was the best magma nav I ever plumbed with. I knew both of 'em since grade school. I guess I'm the only one left now. Same for you, I guess. Damn shame for your mates to go so young.”

“They're all Equal now,” said Murkle.

“And you believe that, even though the Colonel didn't let you do the rites?”

“Ash is ash,” said Murkle. “The rites are for the community. They're important, but the fire is what really matters.”

“Does it help? Knowing that they're 'Equal?'”

“It brings a sort of sense of peace,” said Murkle. “It settles the unquiet world. Flame is flame and ash is ash.”

Bunting didn't say anything for a while. The forest was quiet, in the way that forests are.

“Are you feeling better since the incident with the vines?” Murkle asked.

“No worse than a hangover,” said Bunting. “I might take those pills in a minute, though.

“Permission to ask you a question that may be personal?” said Murkle.

“Fire away,” said Bunting.

“Who's Gary?”

“Gary?”

“Right after you hit the tree, when you regained consciousness, you called me Gary.”

“Ah, yeah. I suppose I remember that. Just a little addled from getting my bell rung, I suppose. I came to and saw you there, in the middle of the forest. A young Caustic cleric, head covered in sigils. I thought you were him for a second.” Bunting eyed Murkle. “There's some resemblance there. Gary was a Consumptive preacher. Joined the Tephra at the same time I did. We went through Crucible together. He was barely old enough. I guess I was, too. Hard to believe I was ever that young. He had the fire in him, all right. Boy, we raised hell in the Obsidian district after graduation.”

“You fought in the war together?”

“Nah, this was just after the war ended. I signed up as soon as I was old enough, but the treaty was ratified just before I came of age. I cursed my luck, but as it happened, and I'm sure you know, there was still plenty of fighting to be had. Rebel strongholds everywhere. This place reminds me a little bit of one of my first missions. We got sent in for a surprise attack on a rebel unit that'd fortified themselves in an old Aztec pyramid in the middle of a jungle. Or maybe it was Mayan. South American continent, anyway. I don't know much about that kind of stuff. Whatever it was, it's gone now.

“These rebels had been holed up there for months. Dense jungle all around, plenty of food and water to keep them going. Loads of weapons, magical wards, all that shit. They had protection on all sides, including the sky. And nobody had been able to take them from below by magma tunneling because they had a trans-dimensional heat sink under their pyramid. You know about those?”

“They covered the basic concept in Crucible,” said Murkle. “They keep the bedrock at a steady temperature, no matter how hot the magma gets underneath. I understand they do it by redirecting the heat energy into another dimension. I wasn't aware they were used for defense against the Tephra.”

“They're not anymore,” said Bunting, “and they haven't been for awhile now, because somebody figured out a way to break through the barrier no matter how effective the heat sink is. That's what the Vulcan Drill Mark III does. Just melts right through the rock like a laser beam through butter. Boy, we fired it up and burst right through. Turned that pyramid into a miniature volcano. Most of the rebels never even knew what hit 'em. They were caught in the eruption. Turned to cinders before they even had time to sweat.

“When we broke crust up top and marched out of the ship, there were only a handful of stragglers. We mopped most of them up real easy. They had guns and grenades and lightning magic, but we were ready for all that. We mopped the floor with them without a single casualty on our side. And only minor injuries. 'It's too easy,' Gary said. He had a huge grin on his face. Never liked to wear his mask. Said he liked the heat on his skin. I swear, you could see his sigils glowing red while he waved his flamespitter, torching what was left of their camp. Smoke everywhere.”

“I thought you said he was a preacher. He fought alongside you?”

“Oh, hell yeah. Like I said, he was Consumptive. He was a preacher all right, but he was no cleric. He signed up for combat. Wanted nothing more than to make it onto a raisin squad. He was right, though. When he said it was too easy. We got cocky. There was one rebel we'd missed. Their battle mage. To this day, I don't know if he had a premonition we were coming, or if he just happened to be out in the jungle away from camp when we got there.

“Anyway, we thought we were done. Their camp was an ash heap. We were ready to call it a day. The lava had cooled off by then and the ship was half-stuck, so we're going around hammering liquefaction stakes into the ground. You can start a lava flow without them, but they make it go a lot faster. Even if the shaft you came up through is still wet. But you have to place them in just the right spot, and you need all twelve of them in place or the melt will be lopsided, and that can be a disaster.

“So the ship is working on a slow melt in the middle of this hard lava field, and we've got about half the stakes in the ground. None of us saw it at first. The ground starts shaking, and we figure it's an earthquake. That happened once during a training drill. It's pretty common when you're breaking crust. Best thing to do is just get the ship moving and get out of there, so we keep working. Next thing I know, Martin Duffy, our mage, gets yanked into the air like he's flying. We look up, and a bunch of Tarzan vines are wrapped around his waist. He's just hanging upside-down in midair. His staff is dangling from a vine next to him, just out of reach.

“Before we can work out what's happening, a whole lake's worth of water comes pouring down on us. Sets the lava right back up again, with the ship stuck halfway submerged. There was nothing but steam in every direction. The air was just thick with it; we couldn't see nothing. I hear screamin' and yellin' from all around, and I still don't know what's going on, so I just stand there like an idiot, pointing my spitter this way and that.

“Captain Beryl comes on the radio and tells us to keep the liquefaction going, so I run blind through the fog, following the nav lines on my HUD, and drive another stake where the computer tells me to. All the while, there's horrific noise of shrieking and slashing and what sounds like trees falling down around us, and I don't know if the screaming is my squadmates or something else, so I just keep working. I manage to get one more stake in the ground before the steam starts to clear, and I see what the hell attacked us.

“It's like the jungle itself has stood up to fight back. This rebel mage had raised some kind of giant squid-plant monster out of the forest. If you thought the meat thing that chased us in here was big, this was bigger. And it completely surrounded us. I mean, it had thousands of arms made out of trees and vines it kept whipping around, hitting the ship, trying to hit our guys or pick them up. It wasn't shaped like a person, it was just a big old mass of living jungle. I really can't do it justice. It's one of those things you've just gotta see in person. It was studded all over with things that looked like Venus fly traps, only they were bigger than coffins, and they kept snapping at us. And pitcher plants, do you know what those are?” Murkle nodded. “That water they'd poured on us, it wasn't from a portal; it was a pitcher plant the size of a house. The wizard controlling it all was sitting in a chair woven out of branches, up in this tree at the center of the whole thing. Nothing could touch him. Gary emptied a whole magazine of explosive rounds at the guy, but every single shot was intercepted by a vine or something.

“We just needed one more stake in the ground if we wanted to make a quick getaway. But the place where it needed to go was on the opposite side of the ship from me, right in front of the rebel mage. I look around for someone who can cover me, and it's just Gary and me. Everybody else is gone. I look up and see Martin still dangling by his foot. One vine's holding him, and another is carrying his staff. The vine snakes over and hands the staff to the rebel mage. Now he's got two staves. And poor Martin. The big vine that's got him by the foot swings him right into a Venus fly trap. It snaps shut over him, with one of Martin's hands sticking out through the teeth.

“I have to get that stake in the ground so we can get out of there. Gary still doesn't have his helm on, and he doesn't have an earpiece, so I can't radio him. So I just yell, 'Cover me!' and I make a run for it. Gary knows what to do. He's got his rifle in one hand, firing incendiary bullets, and his flamespitter in the other, torching vines left and right. A big, gnarly vine swoops down to grab him, but it just burns up like a cigar before it can touch him.

“I run across the black-hard lava, around the ship, and manage to plant the stake right under that fucking plant wizard. Captain Beryl radios for us to get to the ship, but I'm already on my way. I yell for Gary to hoof it, but he's like a man possessed. He's letting loose with everything he's got; thermal grenades, incanters, switching back and forth between his rifle and his spitter. By now, he's surrounded by vines and limbs trying to get a piece of him. I whip out my flamespitter and manage to make a hole for Gary to get out through. We head toward the cool-dock, keeping our spitters flaming so the vines can't get too close. We're about to board when a twisted bunch of vines hauls up a chunk of what used to be the pyramid and slams it down on the dock. It splits in two and snaps off from the ship. Hot lava splashes up and burns the vines, but they've already done their damage.

“With the cool-dock busted and the lava melting fast, we'll have to swim to the ship, which isn't a problem for me, but Gary still doesn't have his mask on. Worse, he's left it in the ship. I take mine off and turn to give it to him. That's when I see his face. When that rock splashed down on the dock, a big splatter of lava hit him right in the head. His left eye's just a black hole, still smoldering. I can smell the flesh burning. But he grins at me, teeth sticking out where his left cheek used to be, and he takes my mask and shoves it onto my head. 'Get the fuck out of here,' he says, smiling all the while. Captain Beryl's in my ear, telling me to get to the ship, but I can't move. I just can't take my eyes off that smoking hole where Gary's eye used to be. Gary knows, though. He sees I'm frozen in place, and he knows my suit is all sealed up now. He knows if I get submerged, the plants can't get me and the ship will pick me up even if I can't swim. So he puts his hand flat on my chest and shoves. I fall backwards, and I'm about to take a plunge right into the magma when I feel something catch me.

“Even with all my armor on, I can tell that something's snaking its way around my body, lashing my legs together, pinning my arms to my sides. It lifts me into the air, and I see Gary rising up with me. He's been yanked up by his feet. Dropped both his weapons on the way up. Little tendrils keep growing out of the bigger vines, squeezing and pulling at him.” Bunting wiped at his face, flushed and dripping with sweat. He tore open the pill packet Chad had given him and swallowed them both with a long swig from his canteen. He sat down on a flat block of concrete and took a breath. “Murkle, have you ever seen a flash bomb?”

“They showed us one in basic training,” said Murkle. “It was quite bright. They told us not to look directly at it, even with our goggles on, but one of my bunkmates did. He was blind for three days. Had to wear regenerative contacts.”

“Bright as the Sun,” said Bunting. “And probably just as hot. I don't know what the alchemists put in 'em. Magnesium, I know, but that's not all. You can't put them out with water. You can't smother them. They just burn and burn, and just when you think they're about to fizzle and snuff out, that's when they blow.

“So Gary and I are both tangled up in these vines, and I can feel them trying to pull me apart, but my armor's enchantments are holding, at least for the time being. Gary wasn't so lucky. Those little tendrils crept in through his neck hole, into his suit. That was all they needed. They popped his armor apart from the inside, like peeling a banana. You could see sparks flying out when the enchantments dissolved. His chest plates just fell away. He's still got some pieces of armor on his arms and legs, just where the vines are holding him, but now they start to pull him in all directions. His left arm pops out of the socket. Blood sprays out. The vines let if fall, and it drops straight into a fly trap. You feeling okay?”

Murkle swallowed hard and waved his hand dismissively. “I'm well. Please, continue.”

“So the vines keep yanking at his right arm now, and I can see that he's got something clenched in his hand. He's bleeding out pretty bad, but he's still yanking back on the vines as hard as he can, making them work for it. I can feel the ones around me getting tighter and stronger, too, and I know it's just a matter of time before they crack my shell, too. They finally get his right arm popped off, and I shout when I see it happen, but Gary's not screaming or nothing. He's laughing, still with that grin on his face, even with that burnt-out hollow where his eye was. A second later, I realize what he's laughing about. His right hand unclenches when they yank his arm off. There's something there that he's been holding onto. It starts to glow. My mask dims the light, but I know just the same that it's a flash bomb. It plops into a pitcher plant, but like I said, water won't affect it. It starts to boil, and the bomb gets brighter and brighter. The wizard's forgotten about me, now, and he drops both me and Gary right into the lava. Everything goes black. Last thing I saw were the sigils of Gary's litany, burning like a brand.

“I woke up on the ship. They told me the flash bomb not only saved my life, it set the forest blazing. They widened up the lava pool before they dived, and the rebel mage fell right in. Burned to ash, just like Gary. I guess they're both Equal, huh?”

“I would say so,” said Murkle.

“Anyway, Seeing you standing there in the woods with the litany all over your head, living vines snaking around, I guess it put me in mind of Gary. Not to mention, I was slightly concussed at the time.”

“I can see why something like that would give you a fear of vines.”

“Fear of?” Bunting scoffed. “I'm not afraid of vines. We've got the Fornax on our side, right? I burned my fear away in the Crucible.”

“My apologies,” said Murkle. “I meant no insult.”

“No worries,” said Bunting. “You went through Crucible, too, but I keep forgetting that this is your first time out. I know you signed up as a cleric, but you're still a soldier. You burn away your weakness in the Crucible. 'Fear is an echo of weakness,' that's what they used to tell us. It's just a memory of before you were strong. And memories can't hurt you.”