Fire and Rage.
These were the things that made me admire him. That made me follow him. Our entire career of battles and war was based on these two qualities. They were something we had in common, something that everyone in our segment shared. All the knights of the Vengeful Fires possessed these two qualities, but no one surpassed him in these two aspects, absolutely no one.
Few could follow him into the fiery hells that his rage took him. I was one of those few. More than that, I was the first of his allies that his fire had ever wounded. It was the day we met. And our first meeting could not be without Fire and Rage.
It was the time of the dragon Gralgor. After his journey of world devastation, all that was left on the continent were the tyrannies that the Beast allowed to exist. As long as they continued to pay tribute and worship to the dragon, he would support them and not destroy all their territories.
We were in the territory of one of these tyrants favored by the beast: Maliris, king of the Drani. Of all the cruel rulers who prospered during Gralgor’s reign, Maliris held the largest territory, conquering almost all of southern Eredwyn, where his Drani propagated the supremacist, oppressive and cruel ideology of their king.
Dranis are nothing more than elves, with the detail of being descendants of Maliris. At the beginning of his career, Maliris defeated and dominated three elven families.
The Airvoline, with dark hair.
The Beltif, with blond hair.
The Coilav, with red hair.
After taking the three families, Maliris left only the women alive. And for 300 years, he multiplied his blood, generating his infamous descendants who would be known as Drani. In the territory of Maliris, one must be very useful to not be an elf and not be enslaved or mistreated. Even among their own race, some Drani reach the level of arrogance to treat other elves with inferiority, simply because they do not have the blood of Maliris in their veins.
What really surprised me that night was that some, even with this blood, never let themselves be influenced by the beliefs and teachings of their families and the Drani culture. Only that night, we met two of these precious examples.
I was Movrik, a Minotaur from Ramos‘ warband, one of the five warbands that would become the legendary Otesis legions that fought in the long and gigantic Rebirth Wars after the death of the dragon. Like other warbands, we survived by wandering and fighting the tyranny in whatever way we could, which wasn’t much.
It was night, a clear sky, with beautiful clouds floating by, but no risk of rain, and the moon’s brightness was not blocked by anything. We were in the Forest of Vergan, one of the few places not dominated by the dragon or its tyrants at that time.
We had seen a light in the forest, a campfire. The warband, unnoticed and quick, surrounded the campfire, and then we began to approach, closing the circle. As I got closer, I could see. Two boys. Two elves still children.
When the light from their campfire managed to reveal the members of my warband who were approaching, they stood up and armed themselves, with only fists. The caution with which we approached was replaced by a calm and carefree approach coming out of the forest, there was no danger coming from those two.
It was only when I got closer that I noticed. Their hair. One redhead and one blond, both with long hair. Dranis, for sure. A redhead Coilav and a blond Beltif, both alone in the most dangerous forest in the world, far from the protection of their families.
“What are you doing here, little ones?” one of my packmates asked, triggering our two discoveries. “Playing at camping?”
We had already stopped advancing, they were already surrounded. The two young elves were facing me.
“Itrian.” The redhead called to the blond, both still alert. “When I go after them, you run away. I doubt these guys will be able to catch you. Okay?”
The blond didn’t answer right away. This idea didn’t seem to please him very much. Before I had time to do anything, the redhead ran towards me. I was a Minotaur almost three times his size. The impetuous redhead jumped to punch me, and I held him with one hand.
As he struggled, punched and kicked my arm, causing no more pain than flicks, the redhead noticed that my other hand was also extended, holding the blond.
“You idiot!” He complained, really irritated. “I told you to run away.
The blond tried to keep up with the ferocity with which the redhead tried to free himself, but he couldn’t get close.
“You’re crazy if you thought I would abandon you! Crazy, you hear me!” The blond replied, I even liked what came out of his mouth, I loosened my grip on his neck a little. After all, I didn’t hate the Beltif as much as I hated the Coilav.
“Look what we have here, Ramos.” I said to the leader of the pack. “What do you think?”
Ramos walked past the fire and sat on a cut tree trunk nearby.
“You captured them, Movrik.” He said to me, nonchalantly. “What do you think?”
I then turned my eyes to the two little ones in my hands. Long hair, one red and one blond.
“If you hurt my brother, I’ll kill you,” the redhead said without hesitation.
“Brother? But you’re from different families, aren’t you? A Coilav and a Beltif,” I said to the two who were still trying to free themselves. “What were you doing here alone? If you answer honestly, we can use you in a way that doesn’t hurt so much. Come on, answer, little Dranis.”
I don’t know how it happened. It just happened. My arm was practically bigger than his body. But that word. That word gave him the will, through hatred and rage, for the redhead to be able to, even suspended and pressed, kick my chin hard enough to turn my face and bleed.
“Don’t ever call us that again,” the redhead threatened me with hateful eyes.
All my companions were surprised and worried, some even armed themselves, but I didn’t even move a foot because of that blow. It was impressive that he had managed it, but not very effective.
He and the blond had already stopped trying to free themselves from my hands. His kick to me was like a slap that silenced the room, even the little blond was quiet, he couldn’t believe his friend had done that.
I turned my face to look at him. He held my fingers with his small hands, he couldn’t even scratch me with his nails. I squeezed him a little tighter.
“Don’t call him what?” I asked him, not allowing an answer to come out of his throat. “That’s what you are, isn’t it? A bearer of cruel and vile blood. You can tell just by looking at you and him. Little dranis.
One word was enough to break the silence. He didn’t even try to free himself anymore, he just wanted to reach my face to disfigure me or whatever the capacity of violence that his anger allowed him to cause was.
My companions laughed as the enraged redhead struggled in my hand, trying with all his might to hurt me.
“If only I could cause you all the pain your kind causes to millions of others.” I said, tightening my fist even more. It might seem like justice, but what I wanted was to repay the pain the Drani caused me. My hatred has always been selfish, even though I didn’t like it.
“Stop it!” The blond shouted, while the other choked in my hand and in anger. “We’ve never hurt anyone. Not me, not my brother. Please, we’re not like them.”
“Aren’t you like them?” I asked, turning to the blond. “Because when I look at you, I see exactly the same appearance as the wretches we fought: damned Drani.”
Everything was interrupted when he started to speak. Hearing that word directed at him again seemed to be his limit.
“I told you,” the redhead said, staring at me and holding my wrist. “Don’t call me that thing!” His hands glowed briefly before igniting a red fire that burned me. The pain was intense and violent, too much for me to keep holding him. He fell to the ground on his feet, and the moment he was free, he jumped straight for my face with hands on red flames. He was too close for me to hold him again, so I kicked him with enough force to throw him away. He stood up again like a crazed animal, thirsty for violence. I liked it. It was my chance to take out some of the anger I felt towards all his people.
“So you want to fight?” I asked him, throwing the blond to one of my companions who formed the circle that closed the area. This was a satyr named Iskor. Unlike me, he was quite friendly, even with our Drani enemies. “Come, little Drani. “ I provoked him once more. Watching him go crazy amused me.
Hearing that once more made him discard his rationality at that moment. There was only anger left, a red-tinged vision directed only at me.
“NEVER CALL ME THAT AGAIN!!! “ he shouted as an eruption of rage exploded from his throat.
And so he came, enraged and violent. Fast, both in running and in punches. But no matter how much anger he felt, it did not change reality. He was an elf child, and I was an adult minotaur.
Every punch of mine made him roll for meters. Every kick felt like it would wrap his organs. Time after time, he was repelled. I lifted him by his long red hair, and beat him with my other free hand, like a punching bag hanging in front of me. When I got tired, still holding him by the hair, I slammed him on the ground once, twice, several times until the ground began to sink.
All my companions celebrated. Whether a child or an old man who was almost dead, an enemy was an enemy, and was treated as such.
Iskor, my satyr colleague who was holding the blond boy, saw his concern.
“Don’t worry,” he said, trying to comfort him amidst the screams of excitement from everyone as they saw their brother being massacred by me. “He won’t kill your brother.”
He said this with a smile, only to change to a worried face soon after. He could tell that I wouldn’t kill the boy, but I couldn’t promise anything.
The redhead, after minutes of beating, was lying face down on the ground, near the bonfire. The excitement of the audience had disappeared along with Coilav’s movements. He wasn’t dead, I would know.
“It seems he’s calmed down,” I said, looking at my enemy’s motionless body. Everyone laughed at once. I wasn’t known for being funny, but I had my moments.
I then walked, a little tired, towards him. I wasn’t the type to brutalize an unconscious enemy; there was no satisfaction if they couldn’t show pain. Besides, I wasn’t the leader of the pack. It was Ramos who would decide what would be done with those two.
“I didn’t hit you that hard,” I called as I approached him, unconscious near the fire. “Come on, little Drani.”
I crouched down to hold him. Before I said that, he rolled his body to the side, facing me, and then exploded a wooden plank from the fire in my face. It wasn’t enough to knock me down, but it distracted me. The fire, the light, the sparks from the impact dazed my senses.
I was inattentive long enough for him to hit me again with the board on the other side of my face. This time he made me fall to the ground. I couldn’t see well, but I remember seeing his belly grow and shrink due to his furious breathing and thirst for a fight.
After all that, his anger still gave him strength. I was down, and a little dizzy to get up quickly. He took advantage. He took advantage of the fact that we were close to the fire. He pulled me by the horns and shouted to everyone: “NEVER CALL ME THAT AGAIN!”
With illogical strength and immense brutality, he pushed half of my face into my face, until my head reached the wood of the fire, releasing sparks that rose into the night sky. Although his hands were inside too, he didn’t get burned, or didn’t care. Maybe he was too enraged to stop for something like pain.
As for me, I’m not ashamed to admit it. I screamed. I screamed as he burned and left a mark on me that would last my entire life and bind us together forever.
My teammates came. They wouldn’t interfere in a fight, but my face was being burned alive, they wouldn’t stand still. Some pulled the redhead away, while others dragged me away from the fire. I was almost passing out from the pain, the flesh still burning. My body wanted to black out so as not to feel any more pain, but I didn’t want to. I saw what that boy would do.
I didn’t go blind. Even as my teammates focused on treating me, I focused on the space between them. I focused on that drani who burned me. The sound helped a lot. He continued to be irrationally enraged, attacking everything that was near.
Some were afraid and afraid to get closer. It was like a group of men trying to neutralize a mad dog. Anyone who got close was bitten. Some managed to hit him while still keeping their distance. But it only made him angrier. Anger was his fuel at that moment, and as long as it burned, he wouldn’t stop. Even if his legs were ripped off, he would crawl with his arms to keep fighting. There came a time when he got tired of reacting to anyone who came near him and decided to go after the first person he saw. And that’s when he went on a rampage. He would jump, punch, scratch, tear, and brutalize anyone he got his hands on. If anyone tried to stop him, they were next.
The state he left the previous ones in destroyed the courage of anyone who thought of going after him. Still, some did, only to fail to hold them back and be defeated in a few blows. They couldn’t realize it, but that Coilava had combat experience, or at least, he was very well trained, and even maddened by rage, he demonstrated this martial knowledge.
One after the other tried to stop him and failed. Screams and nervousness took over the environment, some tried to attack him together, but it wasn’t enough to contain him. He knocked each of us down in a few blows and his fire didn’t seem to diminish. The words that provoked him, words that I said, gave him more than enough energy, a lot of anger to release.
It was then that someone who wasn’t from the gang intervened.
“Carlanis! Enough!
“The redhead turned to where the voice came from, with a fist already ready, but stopped it midway when his crazy eyes stared into Itrian’s. The blond beltif.
Until that moment I had not heard his name. That made me open my eyes, even mine, almost blinded and burned.
He began to lower his fist slowly, his breathing began to slow down, the anger in his eyes began to dissipate. Until the beast was calmed by his brother’s call. I didn’t know it at the time, but those two, even though they shared the same blood, even if distant, had a fraternal relationship that many brothers with the same father and mother did not have.
Itrian was the only one who could stop Carlanis. Ramos, our leader, who just watched everything sitting down, realized this at the same time. If things got too bad, he would stop the redhead himself, until that moment the one he had hurt the most there was me, and I was not even close to death.
Now that the beast was calm, my colleagues began to put their weight on the redhead, practically ignoring the blond. They quickly placed him on his stomach and three of them put weight on him so he couldn’t get up.
“You pieces of shit!” Carlanis screamed and cursed them, trying hard to free himself, but without his anger it was impossible. “Come one at a time and I’ll finish you off.”
“Hey!” Itrian exclaimed, kicking and punching my colleagues in what seemed like handclaps. “Let go of my brother! He won’t do anything else.”
“I can’t promise that, Itrian.” Carlanis retorted.
“Carlanis, I’m trying to help you, you’ve done too much. Shut up!”
“Oh, shut up you, Itrian!”
Those two, even surrounded by enemies who had more than enough reasons to kill them, fought like true brothers. I would see a lot of that in the coming decades.
“Shut up, all of you.” The order came from our leader. Silence took over, even the fire in the bonfire dimmed with his voice. Even those two boys, who had no obligation to Ramos, obeyed. He simply gave orders and was obeyed.
“Promise not to burn us if we let you go, boy?” Ramos asked.
“I can’t promise that.” Carlanis scoffed, he couldn’t miss this chance.
Itrian looked at him with a look of disapproval and irritation. The redhead felt that look even in his soul.
“Okay. I won’t do anything. Now tell them to get off me.” Ramos nodded the order. They soon released him and the redhead stood up, rubbing his wounds, next to his brother.
Ramos stared at them for a few Seconds later, they did the same, but more timidly and intimidated.
“Boys,” he called to them, starting. “I hope you know that we can’t just let you two Dranis go.”
Carlanis frowned, took a step forward, and even though he was hurt, threatened him. Anger lit a small ember. Itrian put his hand on his chest, thinking he would go after Ramos.
“I already told you not to call me that…
“You told Movrik, not me.” Ramos retorted. “That’s what you are, isn’t it?”
They both fell silent. Itrian, embarrassed. Carlanis, enraged.
“I agree and I promise not to call you that anymore, but I want you to admit it to yourselves. Accepting reality is a good way to start a discussion, and, in my opinion, it can help improve your situation. I’ll introduce myself. My name is Ramos, I’m the leader of this gang. And you?
The redhead looked away, irritated, but less so now. He couldn’t. The blond could.
“I am Itrian of the Beltif family. And this is my brother Carlanis of the Coilav family.” Ramos nodded, not judging or hating them. Just accepting their answers.
“So, tell me, what are a Beltif and a Coilav child doing alone in the Vergan forest? Just answer honestly, okay? You are in no position to lie. And right now, my pack needs reasons not to mistreat you.
At that moment, my leader was annoyingly argumentative. Even without speaking, the boys agreed with what he said.
“We ran away from our families a few nights ago. We’ve been living inside the Vergan Forest since it’s an area where it’s hard for them to come after us.” Itrian replied. Carlanis seemed silent as the conversation began and the fight ended.
Dranis who abandoned their families. Some of the pack were surprised, others suspected a lie, and others wondered if it was even possible.
“Okay.” Ramos said, not necessarily agreeing. “You two abandoned your families and ran away together. Why?”
Carlanis was off to the side, having practically given up on the conversation. Itrian, on the other hand, was surprised by the question.
“What do you mean ‘why’, Mr. Ramos?
Mister?” Even Ramos backed away a little when he heard that.
Not even we, who were part of his pack, called him ‘sir’. What they said about the Beltif’s education seemed to be true. Despite everything, Ramos wanted to see if those two could convince him.
“My question was very clear, Beltif,” Ramos explained. “Why did you two run away from your families?”
Itrian seemed to be the one with the best oratory. He did everything he could to give a polite and convincing answer. But that question stopped him, and that was when the other decided to answer.
“Because we couldn’t stand living in that shit anymore!” Carlanis growled, turning to Ramos.
Since he was a child, he had never thought before doing something, like a true Brasali. The revolt in his words was clear, but it still wasn’t enough.
“What the hell, Coilav?” Ramos asked calmly. “Living in luxury? Having plentiful and good meals every day? Sleeping in a cozy bed? Is that the shit you ran away from?”
Carlanis got angry, not wanting to fight, but angry at himself for having had all that in life.
“And all of this was provided through the suffering of thousands! “ Carlanis exclaimed, his anger mixed with shame. “Everything good our families have was bought by oppression, slavery, tyranny, and suffering. We couldn’t stand it anymore. We couldn’t.” His words reached some, but many refused to believe them. Coming from someone like him, it was hard.
“We’ve found and killed many Drani,” Ramos said. “We haven’t found a good one yet. So forgive me if I don’t believe what you say. You said you couldn’t bear to see all that suffering. What have you done to help those slaves, tell me?” Anger gave way to shame. Carlanis truly felt pain for never having been able to do anything. “Look at us,” he asked calmly and painfully, for the first time. Just two children. “What could we do? Running away from our families is the most we can do against them.” Carlanis seemed to have no strength left to continue. Admitting his entire past, admitting his blood tired him more than any fight. Itrian put his hand on his brother’s shoulder.
“Do you understand now?” he asked sadly. “We can’t go back.” It was almost like a request, a plea. A hope that they both shared. Ramos looked at them both, without judging or hating, unlike many others there. But in the end, all that was just words.
“I believe I have had enough of both of you to get a sense of your situation,” he explained. “However, the decision will not be mine alone. What will be done with Carlanis, after we have heard this, will be the one he hurt the most today. Movrik!
He called to me. I stood up with the left part of my face burned. It still hurt, but nothing like when he had held my face in the fire. I stood up tall, even my companions had moved away. With my face still burning from what he had done to me, I walked over to the little boy.
My companions thought I would kill him right there. I could. He stared at me every step I took, unafraid. That boy was impressive even back then.
I stopped in front of him, tall and strong. He looked up to face me. Whatever I decided, he would accept, as long as it was not going back to his family. He would accept death instead. But listen to the name. Carlanis. That made my hatred for him lessen. I needed to find out something, and the reaction would tell me the truth.
“Your name,” I said, and he didn’t change at all. “Is your name Carlanis Coilav Caignis?”
There was a pause. All that could be heard was the burning of the fire, and low comments throughout the pack.
“Yes, it is,” he replied, startling many there. “Why say my full name? My family isn’t enough, you still remind me of my miserable home.”
That was what I wanted. My hatred for that little boy went away at that moment.
“You are Carlanis. Of the Coilav family. Of the Caignis House. So you must recognize this.” I said, showing my back, showing my scar made of hot iron. The symbol of a gate made of two burning bars.
The symbol of House Caignis of the Coilav family. My back was turned when I showed it to him, but when I turned to see his reaction, it was one of anger and disgust. He felt as if he had done that to me himself.
“You…” he almost stuttered with shame. “Were you once a slave in my house?”
“Yes,” I confirmed without any shame. “Many years ago. I was undoubtedly freed before you were born. I would remember the faces of those I hate the most.”
He could hardly look at me anymore. Or anyone else. But I wasn’t done yet.
“You know what, a few days ago, we heard some news that I really liked: the mansion of House Caignis was burned down along with all its members. All except one. That’s right, kid, your name is already well known around here.”
I couldn’t even tell what was going through his head at that moment.
“You must have escaped the same night of the fire, I bet. The Drani, especially the Coilav, have already put a high bounty on you. Dead or alive. Even for the Drani, asking for a dead relative as a bounty is cold. That made me curious. Why dead? What did you do to make your own family want you dead? What I want to know, boy” I crouched down to face him head on. “Were you the one who started the fire?” I don’t know what he wanted at that moment, slowly turning his face to look into my eyes. His expression no longer held shame, only conviction and certainty. His burning eyes met mine. And he answered me: “It was me.” That. That startled everyone, even the most skeptical. But that. That put a smile on my face. I stood up quickly. And looked at my leader. “Ramos, I’ve already decided.” I said so that everyone could hear without a doubt. “He’s coming with us.” Both the companions and Carlanis himself were surprised by the decision. There was no direct objection. They just needed a little help.
“This boy single-handedly killed an entire house of the Coilav family in a single night.” I brandished it at everyone. “Who here can say they’ve done the same? I’ll be responsible for him myself. I’ll help him. If he betrays us or is incompetent, I’ll kill him myself.” His eyes shone brightly at the idea of that little drani killing his fellow man, or me killing him. Whatever it was, it was the sparkle I needed.
“What do you say, boy?” I asked, looking at him like a man. “Do you want to kill drani?” He stared at me for a few seconds. A look of will, of conviction, of courage. A flame that would never go out again.
“I’m in.” He said.
Everyone roared in celebration. They came to the center to greet the new member of our war band.
Carlanis.
They shouted as they surrounded him with excitement and motivation. That boy was born to accompany us. Even in the midst of all the celebration, he did not let himself be carried away by shouts of his name and arms raised to the sky.
“I’m in, but I have one condition.” he said only to me. Not all the chaos could prevent me from hearing him.
“Condition?” I asked him disdainfully. “You should be grateful that your destiny has been so pleasant.”
He was not shaken by my words. He would not accept coming with us without that.
“If I go, my brother will come with me.”
“What will be decided about your brother is not up to me.” I took my eyes off the redhead and looked at my leader. “Ramos, what then?”
It didn’t take long, he had already made up his mind a while ago.
“He’s coming too.
Brother. That day I didn’t believe Itrian was worth anything. He wasn’t even close to Carlanis’ strength. He was more like his shadow. A younger brother who hid behind the older one. Little did I know that the blond boy would become the greatest of us. Greater than me. Greater than Ramos. I can’t say greater than Carlanis, because the redhead didn’t spend as much time in the war as the blond. But I would be lying if I said I always saw potential in him.
All Drani receive basic training. But the Beltif are artists. Musicians, painters, sculptors, merchants. The Coilav, on the other hand, are exploited, warriors, conquerors. They learn how to stop someone from walking before they even take their first steps. Carlanis didn’t disappoint me, even as a child, he knew how to fight with greater brutality than an adult.
Ramos was our leader not only because of his strength. He knew how to deal with people. I only saw value in Carlanis’ ferocity. He saw value in the duo, the value of the two of them together. He saw that their potential was greater together, close to each other; he would never separate them.
Carlanis could be strong and violent, but when he went crazy, he became dangerous even to his allies. Itrian was the one who came to calm him down, to bring him back. Itrian, on the other hand, held back too much; it was this admiration for his older brother that made him advance further, always surpassing himself. Carlanis was Itrian’s accelerator, in the same way that Itrian was Carlanis’ brake. Ramos realized this that night. Those two together had immense value.
The two boys were relieved, they even smiled. Not only would they not return to their miserable families, but they would fight them. We gave them the chance they needed. Once relieved, that redhead came to me, and that was when I noticed his type of humor.
“Movrik, isn’t it?” he called to me. “If you were a slave of the Caignis house, and I am a Caignis, then that means I command you.” I was surprised, it was the first time I saw him being spontaneous, without being threatened or pressured. He was simply interacting, as allies.
“Brat, the chance I gave you,” I said almost seriously. “I’m almost going back on it. Don’t push your luck, brat. You have no authority in this gang.” He smiled, to my surprise. “For now, cuckold.” I couldn’t hold back my smile. It seemed like he had been living with us for a long time. “Let’s see how far your fire and anger will take you.”
2 years after the death of the dragon, when the Rebirth Wars began, our band became 5 proud Otesis legions. Each Legion had a legrarch, its commander and leader. And every legion was divided into 5 segments, each led by a segrerarch, second only to the legrarch. Carlanis became segrerch of the 1st segment, the Vengeful Fires. And I was his first captain, his right hand man.
I may have been older, but Carlanis’ power and strength made many admire him over the years, myself included. I accepted him with pride as my segrerch, my leader. Our segment was based on those two that Carlanis possessed beyond all of us: Fire and Rage.
I always hated the Drani, for what they did to me. But Carlanis’ hatred was insurmountable and incomprehensible to anyone else. As far as I knew, he always lived well with his family and they never mistreated him. Still, he hated every single one of them, every single one who had the disgusting blood of Maliris in their veins. He had a hatred that would not disappear even with the death of all the Drani, because as long as he lived, there would still be one left. Carlanis hated himself, his blood. And that was a kind of hatred that no one could naturally achieve. That was precisely why we followed him, through fire and rage, he led us with an unbearable fury. But, during the war, the day came when he left us. In battle, he disappeared in a place where we could not follow or rescue him. The title of Segrerch of the Vengeful Fires was passed to me. Carlanis, in his last years of command, said that we could not let our anger dominate us. My command was the opposite. Increasingly in irrational fury and endless rage I sank our segment. All of this resulted in the betrayal in which I participated. I betrayed everything we fought for because of this anger that I couldn’t let go of, and it consumed me. Just like Carlanis, I never overcame my anger, but unlike me, he didn’t lose to it.
Our entire relationship, from the moment we met until the moment he killed me, was based on those two things we could never let go of: Fire and Rage.
Before his fire turned me to dust. I remembered something he told me the night we met.
If you hurt my brother, I’ll kill you.
Wretched. Even lost in the afterlife, he kept his promise.