Page 132 of An Empress of Air & Chaos

Her head whipped back to look at Taymir, her lip curled back, baring her teeth as her features set into a feral and ferocious setting. Her whole body shook as she took him in, the blood pouring from his abdomen. She felt nothing but an unyieldingly powerful rage. Burning rage.

He realised the change in her, fear finally creeping into his eyes. Not of his impending death, she realised, but of her. Of how she looked. Her hands flew out towards him, and with a shriek, piping hot fire soared from her palms. She tipped her head back and roared into the broken sky. The fire rushed towards Taymir, licking his body all over with flames, flames that were devouring him fully.

Incinerating him.

Burning him alive.

His screams penetrated the night. Around her, the room erupted into chaos as Hunters and Witches fought the demons that burst into action.

Pulling away, she ran to Cally’s side and dropped to her knees. “No, no, no!” As she screamed out again, the wind gathered around them, creating a tornado of air. The magic vortexed around her and she was in the eye of her own storm.

“Cally, Callyn!” She brushed her golden hair, now caked in rusty red blood. Her pale face, unmoving.

So pale.

“Oh, Gods, Callyn.” She tapped her face gently. “Callyn Agnes Greymore, do not leave this world. Don’t leave me!” she begged, buckling over her best friend. Her hands touched the hole in her chest where her heart should be.

Another shriek broke from somewhere inside her, somewhere deep and dark, somewhere she had never ventured before. “No!” Emara cried, looking down at Cally’s face. Still and emotionless. Her blue eyes that once sparkled, now empty.

She was gone.

Gone from this world.

Beating her fists into the ground, Emara howled uncontrollably. Feeling an unusual heat, she looked up through blinding tears. A ring of fire now danced around her, burning like a high wall. Was she doing this? Was this her magic?

Yes! It was. She could feel it channelling from her core. She was losing control. Emara’s body didn’t feel like her own as she gripped onto Cally’s hand and lay down beside her. “Please, please, please,” she whispered over and over as she let the magic burn from the darkest place in her soul. She let it soar out from her, not knowing how to stop it, not caring if it did. As she cried out unanswered prayers to anyone who would listen, the wall of fire burned around them higher, reaching dangerous heights.

Through her bawling, she heard someone calling her name, but she prayed for nothing other than the fire to take her.

“Emara, you must stop! Girl, you are going to burn yourself out!” The desperation in the person’s voice reminded her of her own.

She was desperate. Desperate for all of this to be a terrible, horrendous dream. She was desperate for the rising in her best friend’s chest to show thatshe still took breath. Desperate for the fallen to rise. For the death of Taymir Solden to make her feel liberated and justified. She was desperate for the screams of Taymir to stop lingering in her mind as the visions of his melting skin peeled from his bones and engraved into her memory.

Desperate to feel anything but this pain.

“Emara, honey,” a sweet, soothing voice echoed through the flames. “Honey, you are in control. You need to stop the flames, my love. This level of magic is dangerous for a new Witch. Can you hear me? If you can hear me, please sit up. I am Naya Blacksteel, and I am going to help you.”

Emara could hear the smooth tones of her voice caress against the darkness of her soul.

Naya Blacksteel.

“Please lower your flames. I am going to help you, my love. I can stop your pain,” her voice pleaded.

Stop her pain?

Emara sat up slowly. “Nothing can stop my pain,” she said through muffled cries.

“I promise, I can help you.”

As Emara rose to her feet, the flames blew up around her into the air like red and orange banners.

“Careful! Easy, honey. Take a deep breath. I am going to help you,” the sweet voice said. “Place your palms onto your chest and close your eyes.”

Emara felt the air whip through the room, fuelling the fires. Her brain was pounding into her skull, but she managed to steady her feet. Her skin felt like ice and lava had combined to burn against her in a rarest torture.

“Make it stop,” she begged. “Make it stop!”

The wind still swirled around the room, pushing the fires to burn against the expensive fabrics and furniture. Screams could be heard to stop her and through the gaps in the flickering flames, Emara saw a tanned face, with caramel brown hair that lay around her shoulders in a natural wave of curls.

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