Page 55 of The Spark that Ignites
But what if it didn’t? Guilt cinched her heart and all she could do was stare at the burnt leather in horror. “Can I see your arm?”
He shook his head, suddenly fascinated by the ground. “It doesn’t even hurt.” It was clearly a lie by the set of his jaw and his clenched teeth. Vesper shifted his stance, transferring weight from foot to foot, opening his mouth then closing it several times over.
“Tell me the rest,” she prodded. “Why can’t I relight the flame now?”
He crouched beside her but kept enough distance to retreat if necessary. “You have to be found worthy before you can relight the flame.”
“Worthy?” she snapped. “Bywho?”
“We don’t know.” Vesper sighed, rubbing his cheek thoughtfully. “The prophecy wasn’t clear.”
Emmery clenched her fists, fighting the uneasiness in her bones, fire in her belly, and her sparking fingertips. She was so unworthy. So far from a saviour that anyone would desire and had wasted a century hiding like a coward. Emmery stared into the dark basin. The stakes of everything had inflated exponentially in a matter of moments.
“Do you want me to try? Now, I guess. So, I don’t have to climb those damn stairs again.” Her attempt at humour fell flat even to her own ears.
“I don’t see why not.” He stood, offering her a hand. “What have we got to lose?”
“Alright, yeah.” Emmery didn’t take Vesper’s offer, frowning as she studied the nasty burn on his arm and bit down on her lip until she tasted blood. How could she have done that to him? Was she going to set this temple on fire if she tried? “You might want to step back.”
Vesper retreated as she stood before the onyx basin, hands trembling. Before she could talk herself out of it, she extended her arms over the bowl. She had spent a century snuffing out the incessant itch of her magic, and now, she wasn’t sure how to let go. It sent a tremor of fear through her bones. Maybe she was bracing herself for the consequences because she wasn’t worthy. Perhaps she never would be. After all, her ashen soul held no glimmer of redemption.
Her heart picked up, drumming to the magical beat in her veins. It was a relief to use her magic, like loosening a belt buckled too tightly, but there was too much riding on this tofeel it. Sparks appeared at her fingertips, engorging into flames like they were doused in lamp oil. Emmery gasped and shrank back from her own hands, turning her face away but slowly, she lowered them into the basin, the ash dusting her fingertips.
Pain erupted in her hands and sizzling filled the air accompanied by the reek of burnt flesh. Hissing between her teeth, she threw herself back, cradling them to her body as she crumpled, her knees striking the floor.
Gods, thathurt. She whimpered as smoke wafted from her red flesh.
The gods, or whatever forces had concocted this asinine prophecy, had rejected her and she’d failed again. These poor people had chosen the wrong saviour. And now they would all die, their magic along with them.
She didn’t have words after her failure and Vesper didn’t press her. Instead, he sat with her until she could breathe through the pain.
After convincing him her hands didn’t hurt, they left the temple to retrieve the first item for Izora’s spell. The scent of burnt flesh still lingered in her nostrils hours later.
Chapter Twenty
After leaving the Skyborne Temple, they barrelled through the lush forests. The shady cave, hidden away by brush, appeared untouched as Vesper cut it away with his sword.
Aera snuggled into Emmery's neck, her skin prickling as tiny skittering creatures bumped her boot. Only her makeshift torch lit the way in the damp stone tunnel, but the knot in her chest tightened as the golden flame flickered. More than once, she had lost control, and it couldn’t happen again. But she didn’t know how to tame it.
Emmery tiptoed at Vesper’s side, his thick cloak occasionally brushing her arm. His unusual silence was a rope around her neck, waiting for the floor to drop, and Emmery debated if speaking would diffuse the situation or feed it. They couldn’t be friends with her plan to steal the resurrection items but there was a connection between them she couldn’t deny. And after he had opened up to her and all they’d been through, she was unsure how to proceed.
Each time her gaze wandered to his scorched arm, a pang of guilt sang through her and palpable tension filled the air. She didn’t believe he forgave her, especially with his reservation to let her anywhere near the wound. Her fingers itched to fix it, bandage, or—
She didn’t know. But it was unbearable.
When they reached the end of the tunnel, Emmery’s breath caught. Toadstools and dandelions thrice her height, toweredover them in bio-luminescent violets, turquoise, and soft greens. Naked, black trees with glowing threads lined the path, fireflies dancing to a secret song among them. They seemed to whisper,welcome home.
She had read about bioluminescence in a novel once, and now she could put an image to it. This place was somehow familiar, like she had visited once in a dream but that was impossible. And while the place emitted an ancient sacred hum, the magic here soothed her veins rather than ravaged like the Whispering Spring.
Aera hurled herself from Emmery’s neck, luminescent pollen and seeds puffing from the brush as she crashed through it. It latched onto her thick white fur and with a yip, she rolled on her back, clawing at the air. A smile tugged at Emmery’s lips, her fox’s joy spreading like warm honey in her chest.
Vesper’s insistent stare lingered on her cheek, and she hid her birthmark under her hand.
“Maela would love it here,” she mused. “My sister had this cloak she wore every day, that exact shade of purple.” She pointed to the colour threading the dark wood.
His gaze didn’t waver. “That’s a unique name. It sounds Sellidic.”
Plucking a twig from Aera’s fur, she said, “I would be surprised. I think my mother picked my name on a whim.”
