Page 65 of His in the Dark

“Now,” she says, her voice hinting at laughter. “Concentrate on the work.”

“The work?” I ask, as if we have not talked about this before.

“Yes. The fire consumes the wood, turning it to heat and flame. That means that the power you send must…understand the intention.”

They are the same words she has said to me before, or very similar, but they reach my ears differently.

I concentrate on the empty grate, and the power thatmustexist in the underworld even if it is different from the power of bringing life. At first I envision taking from the floor beneath me. The black obsidian and sparkling pyrite. Vaguely I hear a scratching sound and I welcome it this time. Whatever craves for me to hear it, I listen. With my hand outreached and my head falling back, I allow my mind to think of the flames and of its purpose. Its heat. My eyes close and the vision comes without conscious thought, I think of Hades’s hard length, of his hips rutting between my legs, of my growing desire, the mereintentionof letting him fuck me as he desires and how the flames of his power wrap around me.

An embercracks. My eyes open in an instant and I stare at the wood. Imagining the flames that match the beauty of what I had in that moment. I wish to see my own desire in the flames. My lips part and I will it to give me that pleasure.

And this time, a small fire catches, the little flames dancing there before us for several beats and just as I begin to enjoy them, they sputter out again.

“Your powers are progressing,” Silvie says breathlessly. “That is more than I have seen you achieve before.”

Humming in confirmation, I attempt to hold onto the fact that I made fire. Never have I before and I find comfort in that. “Theydoseem to be progressing,” I agree, trying to keep my voice from showing too much emotion. “Thanks to you.”

Silvie scoots closer, both of us on our knees and squeezes my hand. Both of us look into the grate. No flames now, but therehadbeen. They were there. I made them.

“My Queen,” she says. “Have you had your wine today?”

“Not yet.” Wine is for the Gods and divination.

“Perhaps we’ll have a glass and try again after?”

With a smile, I acquiesce although when I look back to the grate, I envision the flames and I swear I hear the crackle again. We go back to the small table. Silvie pours the wine into two goblets with a proud smile on her face. We lift the cups and clink them together, then drink. It’s a true celebration, though it is only the two of us standing side by side at the table together.

Silvie exhales, lowering her glass. “Do you know, my queen, that there are spells for things such as…love and peace?”

Her statement sends a shift through me. As if my very being knows her statement to have purpose.

“I have heard of them, but I thought they were mostly myths.” I take another sip of my wine. The flavor is rich on my tongue, and full. I savor it before I swallow. “The kinds of magic one hopes for, but can rarely use.”

Silvie reaches over to her chair and takes something out of her basket.

It is a book, bound in smooth leather with an intricate pattern embossed into the cover. Silvie holds it out to me withboth hands, and I take it just as carefully, my fingertips slipping over the texture.

I meet her eyes, my heart racing. Silvie nods.

I balance the book in one hand and open the book.

The aged pages inside are covered in writing. These are ancient words. Spells that are so old they have become viewed as myths. I run my fingertips over the writing. The page feels warm with power. Or is it the heat of my intention in my hands? I think it might be both.

“Love and peace,” I say softly. “The spells for those things can be found in this book?”

“Yes, my queen. And balance. We know so much of hate and violence, but they only exist because of the balance we protect.”

Spells for peace and love. I know there is no new weight on my shoulders, but I feel it regardless. These spells would take much more power than lighting a fire for a few seconds. They would take more power than I have ever dreamed of having, or trying to use. For they reflect onto others. To their minds and actions. Like sirens in the ocean and the fairies in the woods. Although the creatures I speak of are mysterious and dangerous.

Silvie exhales as if she needs to speak the words more than she needs to breathe. “I do not think it will be Hades who saves us,” she says.

It takes me a few seconds to absorb her words and lift my eyes from the book to hers. She looks at me steadily.

“Save us?”

“From the fallout of what he’s done to be with you,” she answers.

“You think it will be my mother? My father?” I question her, not knowing if either will ever find me here.

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