“Litania tells me she plans to leave with her human lover. This will break my brother’s heart. Worst of all, though, is I heard Litania talking to herself at night. Something haunts her and now, whenever I see her, I see shadows clinging to her skin.”672Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIGFsAGPAOR
- Excerpt of Princess Yelena’s diary
Chapter 21
It was mid-morning when Wren finally crawled out from the tent that she had shared with two other young girls. She put a hand to her forehead, squinting out across the bustling camp. Men and women were busying tending to the carts, shifting barrels of food around. Horses were being led through the camp to a nearby roped off area; there, a man was tending to the shoes of the horses whilst another brushed their tails and manes. It was a hive of activity, the air thick with the smell of fresh hay, bread baking over open fires, the clean air.
Through it all Wren watched as people parted. It was Lorca, leading two horses to her, the same they’d been riding before their attack. The horses were saddled, minus bags. Where were they going? She thought as he approached, then stopped before her and held out the reins.
“Where are we going?” Wren asked as she swung up onto the saddle. “And I thought the caravan would be heading off today. It looks like we’re staying.”
Lorca settled onto his horse. “We’re not staying long. A day, maybe two. Sorcha fell sick last night, so Inakara wants to stay put for a day, let her rest. Apparently, Sorcha heals better when she’s still and lying on the ground.”
“Is it serious?” Wren asked, worrying.
“Inakara isn’t concerned and Omi seems more annoyed by Sorcha, so it doesn’t appear to be anything to fret over – so, whilst we have a break in movement, we’re off to train for the day,” he announced, then paused, watching her for a reaction.
After a moment, she realised it wasn’t sword training – neither of them had them. Wren had left hers at the tent and Lorca wasn’t wearing his either. She shifted uneasily on her saddle and looked ahead, feeling a knot tighten in her chest.
“Magic.” It felt like poison on her tongue.
She wasn’t averse to the idea of magic, didn’t think poorly of anyone whom possessed it. It was just hard to think she had it now, too. Even thinking of what she’d done in that cave, how she’d burnt that man alive, made her restless – not sick, though. It ought to have made her feel sickened, disgusted by herself. She couldn’t though…and that revelation chilled her to the bone. So, to train this magic, it left her a tangle of emotions and things she’d rather not address.
They didn’t speak again until they rode free of the caravan. Lorca twisted in his saddle and looked to her, searching with those dark eyes of his. Damned if they were far too nice on him, wasted.
“I know you don’t like the idea of having magic. It must make you afraid-“
“I’m not scared of having magic,” she cut in, glancing at him. “I’m just uneasy of what it means for me now.”
His brow dipped. “What it means now?”
She tore her gaze away, her mood darkening. “That I was lied to for my entire life…by the people I’m now trying to save. That, when it comes to blood, they’re probably not even my family.”
To that, he was silent.
The world seemed to hold its breath as Wren closed her eyes and reached out with both hands. The sun was warm against her skin, washing over her. She felt like she was unfurling for it, stretching out to touch it, a flame kindling within her. The softest brush of warmth swept across her neck. Lorca stood behind her, his chest almost touching hers. She could smell him, too, the smell of the mountains – crisp, earthy. Unlike before, she seemed to sense him more keenly. It seemed as though more than just magic had been awakened within her; no, not awakened.
Freed.
“Dragons live and breathe fire and the energy of the sky itself. For elves, they listened to the earth. How it sang, moved, gave life and took it away. Dragonairs learned that very important lesson. We had to respect the magic, understand it, care for it before we could even breathe it in.” She felt him walk around, then he stood at her side and he set his palm against hers. “You didn’t grow up as a Dragonair, so you didn’t learn this and now we have to teach you as the magic burns in front of you. I want you to feel that fire right now. Picture an orb of it within you, let it grow but don’t let it consume you. Control it.”
She kept her eyes closed and turned her focus inwards. It didn’t take long to find it. That tiny ember, floating in the darkness; yet despite its meagre size she felt its warmth, right through her body. It terrified her. How could something reduce her so quickly, make her feel like she was little once more, staring up at her first cliff?
With a deep breath she reached for it, the ember sparked. It lit up, erupting rapidly into a small fire, growing sharply for a moment. Then it exploded. She screamed, shrank back, her eyes thrown open – only to see fire shoot from her hands, thrown free across the small clearing, slamming into a small bush. Fire devoured the bush, reducing it to ashes within seconds.
Wren lowered her still burning hands, releasing a shaky breath. She glanced at him but, instead of concern or anger or even disappointment.
He was smiling. “Well, normally, that’s later in the training.” When he sobered his hand fell away. “Now, let’s go again. This time, relax and remember that I’m here, so don’t fear the fire. It’s part of you.”
When she turned her gaze inwards and repeated the process the fire grew again. It rose within her, taking shape, becoming the orb she willed it to be. She opened her eyes and saw the orb in front of her, cradled by her hands…and by Lorca’s. He was in front of her now, his eyes watching her from above the fire.
“I did it,” she said softly.
His gaze never wavered from hers. “Yes, you did. Now, let us continue. There’s a lot for you to learn before we get to the city and we need to make a plan, for when we arrive at that city, we must be ready for anything.”
Wren nodded. She closed her hands together, extinguishing the fire and as she looked at him, trying to stifle the fear whispering at the edges of her mind.
“Let’s keep going.”
For a moment, he hesitated. Did he, too, sense that fear? It passed and he nodded, drawing back from her. He raised his arms to the side, opening out his hands, summoning two orbs of fire to his hands. The flames danced over his fingers, threading through like ribbons of burnt orange and rich red. There was no fear in his eyes as he brought his hands together and the fire lifted from his touch. They hovered and danced around each other, a fiery and enchanting dance. His gaze met hers, dark and with fire burning within them.
“There is balance in magic. There must be balance. Fire is by its very nature destructive, consuming. It takes but in the wake of it, there is life. What happened when you would burn sick fire flower fields?”
“Fire flower – oh, we just called them the red flower,” she replied. “We know if you burn the flowers when they’re sick, they release their seeds, which are rapidly fertilized by the heat.”
“,” he finished. “As a Dragonair I dedicate my life to studying this, to knowing it as keenly as the very breath I take.”
His voice had deepened as he spoke, taking on a reverent kind of tone, more passionate than she’d ever heard him. It was his life, that of a Dragonair. The fire dimmed in his eyes and the two orbs spluttered out, like dying camp fire. The demons that haunted his gaze, the ones he hid when he thought she was looking at him, the ones she saw when didn’t know, appeared. It fell to his hands. She was in front of him, putting her hands over his until, finally, his gaze rose to hers.
“What happened to the others?”
“Fire happened. Difference was, we couldn’t rebuild, couldn’t start again in that city. The longer we stayed the worse it got. Then the dragons left and finally, we had to leave too,” he murmured. “Well, everyone except for me. I stayed.”
“Why?”
He turned over her hands, looking at them as if they might reveal an answer to a question that haunted him. His hands fell away but he was still staring at hers.
“I – no, my mother – was given a final task. Idris and Vaska had an egg. It was still too young to move, so they couldn’t leave with it. The egg was to be nurtured in the fire that you and I sealed our deal in.” His gaze tore from her hands to the trees. “Problem was, my mother had already used all her magic securing the escape of our people and she was dying.”
“So, you guarded the egg.” Wren knew stories, had them spoken to her from her earliest memories. He had filled in gaps but she still had questions. “What of Yelena? Litania?”
Anger roared across his face as he wrenched away from her, throwing one hand out to the forest, fire exploding from his hand. The fireball slammed into the trees, roaring to life into a small inferno. Horror flashed over his face, his eyes not on the fire but on his hands, still dancing dangerously with fire. Instinctively, she reached out and put her hand on his. The fire shrank from his hand and leapt to hers, as if it wanted her more. She stepped back, looking at her hands. It triggered something within her, a strange feeling. She was walking across the clearing, her hand raised towards the fire. As she neared the inferno the fire reached to her, outstretched with ribbons forged of fire. She didn’t feel afraid as the flames moved from the trees, stretching out to her, with fiery fingers.
A shiver ran down her spine as the fire first touched her hand, then rushed up her arm – and in a split second the flames rushed her fully. She opened her mouth to scream, startled by the force that surged through her, yet no sound escaped her mouth. For a moment she swore she was completely consumed by the fire, every inch burning – yet not her clothes, somehow.
Lorca’s words whispered through her.
The magic that burns inside of you.
Fire means death but it also means life.
She felt it; the fire was life, full and vibrant within her. It was utterly terrifying…and yet enthralling. She drew her hands together and called the fire into her, drawing it like a mother would a child. Balance. Balance. Balance. She had to reign in the rage at the heart of the fire, the sourness of an old betrayal buried within – calm the fire, draw it back to its natural state.
When she exhaled, she felt the flames soak into her, vanishing completely. She still felt that extra fire within her but it felt calmer, more natural. With a quiet laugh to herself she turned to Lorca, freezing at the expression on his face. His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly ajar and there was a look of utter wonder on his face. Neither of them moved for a moment, nor spoke; finally, he broke the silence.
“That was…incredible.” He was in front of her, still shocked, seemingly in awe of her, nearly reaching out to touch her. “You are incredible.”
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