Page 58 of The Spark that Ignites
Vesper’s mouth twisted in empathy and offered a hand. “You have to draw blood.”
“Must I bleed for everything?” Emmery sighed but let him drag the dagger across her hands. Blood pricked the woundsand placing her palms on the barrier, Emmery calmed her mind, emptying it of all worries and thoughts. Or at least she tried.
With her eyes closed she floated, blanketed by the dark barrier, the ground gone, and shadows cradling her. She focussed on pulling air through her nose and out her mouth as her magic thrummed with her speeding heart. Her brows creased and she focussed on each particle, imagining them disintegrating to ash.
It began simple, a few sparks here and there, until her hands lit up, thekhaosflame enveloping her, swallowing her whole. Emmery stumbled back, her existence roaring, and she became the flame or the flame became her—she didn’t know.
They joined as one, a monstrous being with no beginning and no end—only raw, unfettered power. The flame encased her legs and arms and then her face until she couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe through the smoke or the world burning around her.
The living, breathing thing inside her smiled, a shadow edging her peripherals.
Emmery screamed.
She folded, crouching, arms circling her middle, and squeezed her eyes tight. Her breath rushed in and out, in and out and rocking like a child, she focussed solely on her ticking watch. Anything to slow her racing pulse.
When she was finally able to calm and the flame retreated inside her, she examined the cinder in her fists. She exhaled, the barrier crumbling to ash and scattering on her breath.
Her eyes snapped open to find it gone and Vesper staring at her from several paces away, his face stricken and eyes impossibly wide.
Emmery surveyed her clothes, her hair—all unburned, yet thekhaosflame and ash lingered in her nostrils.
Vesper didn’t budge from where he stood. “Are you ...?”
She nodded, pressing her palms into her eyes. “I’m fine.”
When she stood, her cheeks burned with embarrassment. What had just happened? She must have looked dazed because Vesper didn’t take his eyes off her, watching with a cautious uncertainty.
“You were—” His throat worked. “Screaming.”
“I was?” It wasn’t all in her head then. Aera pawed at Emmery, and she numbly scooped her up. The fox nuzzled her cheek. In a rough whisper like she swallowed gravel, Emmery said, “I’m fine. Let’s go.”
“You’re sure?”
She nodded again. As much as she knew he wanted to, Vesper didn’t press further.
At least the barrier was down. It was a small hurdle—a fluke more than a victory—but the real concern lurked in the misty meadow ahead. She would deal with whatever just happened later. Emmery clamped a lid over her emotions and bolted it down, praying nothing would seep through. She didn’t have time to deal with whatever that thing was inside her—the monster she always knew was there. The one she never wanted to peer too closely at.
As they stepped into the mist, the thick haze obstructed their vision and she clung to the back of Vesper’s cloak, practically feeling his stupid smirk.
At his chuckle, she snapped, “I can’t see a damn thing. I thought rule number one was to stay close to you.” He laughed again and she yanked the neck of his cloak, choking him. “Do you want me to run into you?”
“Watch it, Sparky,” he hissed over his shoulder, “And that’s rule number three. Rule number one was to not touch anything, and we know how well you listened to that.”
They crept toward the center of the clearing, eerie quiet clinging to the mist, the only sound their ragged breaths and the squelch of their footsteps on the damp ground.
Emmery’s magic matched her racing heart as their vestiges merged—white folding into gold.
“I think I see it,” he whispered, pointing ahead. “Up there.”
Emmery strained her eyes at the beam of light stemming from high above. Aera dug her claws into Emmery’s neck as they shuffled closer, the fog dissipating around a patch of grass. A suit of armour, enclosed in vines, lay face down, a shattered sword out of reach.
Vesper crouched to examine the hilt.
“The Divine Guard,” he said. His thumb brushed the emblem on the handle: a lion with long fangs eating the sun. Unease crossed his face.
Emmery sank her teeth into her bottom lip. Nothing about this felt right and unease prickled the back of her neck.
Stretching for the patch of sunlight through the cracked ceiling, branches twisted from the knight’s back. From them dangled a handful of palm-sized white flowers. Peering closer, the suit of armour under the vines was empty, as if they stemmed from the fallen soul’s remains. Flowers born of flesh and sacrifice.
