Page 38 of Storm of Stars
For a moment, I felt like those stars, small and distant, yet still shining in spite of everything. In spite of Praxis, in spite of all the obstacles in my way. It was as if no matter how dark the world became, there was always a glimmer of light that could refuse to be dimmed.
I stared up at the sky for a while longer, letting the peacefulness of the moment wash over me. But eventually, my eyelids grew heavy, and the exhaustion from the day claimed me. My eyes slid shut, and sleep took over.
It wasthe heat that first woke me.
I felt a sharp, burning pain spreading across my back, the warmth seeping through my long-sleeve shirt and licking at my skin with a fierceness that felt vicious. The comfort I’d felt before had been replaced by an unbearable sting. My back was on fire.
I jerked upright, my body stiff with pain as I tried to stretch out the tight muscles, but nothing could ease the burn. My shirt felt as though it had been pressed against a scorching surface. I winced and stood quickly, the heat still radiating from my skin.
That’s when I noticed the smoke.
The air was thick with it, swirling in a hazy cloud around me. The smell, that same almost-smoky scent from before, was even stronger now. It clung to everything, coating my throat, my clothes, and my skin. I glanced around, squinting through the smoke, trying to figure out where it was coming from. The smoke didn’t seem to have any particular direction, it was just there, heavy in the air, creeping from the ground itself.
My chest tightened as I inhaled the smoke, and I couldn’t suppress the cough that rattled through my body. It felt as if my lungs were on fire, and my eyes watered from the sting. I reached for the hatchet I’d left by my side, instinctively wrapping my fingers around the handle, feeling better just having something solid in my grip.
The heat and smoke seemed to be coming from the ground. I walked carefully, trying to avoid breathing too deeply, but the smoke was inescapable. Every step I took felt like it led me deeper into a furnace.
I stumbled down the path, following the curve of the island toward the shoreline, the roots of the cliffside smoking as I drew closer. As I reached the edge of the water, I hesitated.
I pulled my shirt off over my head, the fabric damp with sweat, and dunked it into the lapping waves. The coolness of the water felt like a relief against the oppressive heat. I wrung it out, then tied it around my mouth and nose, hoping it would help filter out some of the smoke.
With the hatchet in hand, I moved closer to the roots of the cliff, where the smoke seemed to be pouring most fiercely. My grip tightened on the weapon as I swung it at the thick, twisted roots. The first swing struck with a dull thud, and I felt the resistance in the wood. I took another swing, harder this time. The earth beneath me seemed to cave in, and with a sudden jolt, a blast of heat erupted from the hole I’d made.
The force of the explosion sent me sprawling back onto the sand. A wave of intense, searing heat washed over me, and I cried out as my arm instinctively came up to shield my face. The exposed skin burned against the air, and I realized that without my shirt to protect me, I stood no chance against the fire's heat. But the pain didn’t matter. The fire was roaring, spilling out of the hole I’d made, hot and furious.
Flames licked at the sky, dancing wildly as they erupted from beneath the cliff. The roots, those thick, twisted things, were consumed by the fire. It spread quickly, the earth beneath the cliffside igniting in a blaze that seemed to have been building all day, just beneath the surface.
I groaned, pushing myself up off the sand, my body screaming in protest. Every inch of me was sore. The sting in my arm was unbearable, and my lungs felt like they were being scraped raw with every breath. The fire beneath the cliff was still blazing, crawling ever higher, threatening to swallow everything in its path.
I glanced toward the water. The sky was dark, but I could see the faintest hint of orange on the horizon, a sign that dawn was on its way. All I had to do was survive until then, and I would be rescued. I could already taste freedom, if I could just make it through this.
But as I stared out at the water, a sinking feeling clawed at my chest. The fire was not contained to my island. I could see a handful of other orange glows in the distance, flickering along the shores of nearby islands. The flames were claiming them too. I felt my heart tighten at the thought of Briar, Thorne, and Ezra. I could only pray they were safe and that they had the smarts to stay alive long enough to make it out.
I had nothing with me, aside from the hatchet still gripped tightly in my hand, and my soaked t-shirt, now pressed against my face to mask the smoke that was thickening around me. The water was close, but it did me no good if I couldn’t reach the fire and put it out. I didn’t have time to waste.
Ignoring the fire’s growing intensity, I forced my legs to move. The air was stifling, thick with smoke, but I couldn’t let it stop me. My lungs burned with each breath, but I pressed forward up the cliff’s edge.
I needed to get to higher ground, needed to protect my tower. The flame had to be kept away. I scrambled through the trees, the smoke pressing in on all sides. It made the air feel oppressive, heavy with heat and ash. I was disoriented, my mind fogged with pain and exhaustion, but I pushed on, driven by the need to protect what little hope I had left.
Eventually, I reached my tower again. I barely noticed the way my palms were scorched from touching the burning roots on the climb back up. The heat was unbearable, but there was no time to stop. I couldn't stop. The fire hadn’t reached this spot yet, and I was determined to keep it that way.
I moved fast, snatching up the last of the branches and broken lumber from my earlier pile. My fingers fumbled clumsily with the wood as I staggered around the base of the tower, laying it out in a wide, rough circle. Every breath was a struggle, my lungs clawing against the thick smoke curling in the air.
Inside the ring, I dropped to my knees and, using the hatchet, carved a shallow trench into the dry dirt. It wasn’t deep, my arms shook too badly for that, but it was something. A pitiful line of defense. A thin scar against the oncoming fire. It wouldn’t hold the flames for long. Maybe not even for an hour. But maybe, just maybe, it would buy me enough time to see the sun rise. Enough time to survive.
The fire was growing louder now. I could hear it snapping and tearing through the trees, a living, breathing thing. Flames leapt hungrily at the leaves overhead, and the tall grass around the edges of the clearing swayed as it was devoured.
I finished the circle best as I could, and then, heart pounding in my ears, ran toward the inferno. I needed a torch.
Near the edge of the blaze, I found discarded brush, already dry and brittle. The heat was unbearable this close, suffocating and thick, but I didn’t hesitate. With trembling hands, Ifashioned a crude torch, thrusting it into the searing edge of the fire. Flames clung to it instantly, racing up the dry twigs.
Torch in hand, I turned and sprinted back toward the tower. Every step was agony, the smoke was a living thing inside my chest. When I reached the base, I didn’t stop to catch my breath. I jammed the hatchet into my belt, gripped the ladder tightly with my free hand, and began to climb.
The smoke climbed with me.
It was thicker up here, curling in heavy plumes around the structure. My muscles screamed with the effort of hauling myself upward one-handed, the other hand desperately clutching the burning torch.
I reached the top platform, panting, my vision swimming. The lantern was mounted too far from the edge, I couldn’t reach it from the ladder, not with the condition of my arm. I had to step onto the rickety platform itself.
