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ONE LITTLE SPARK
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ALL AROUND HER, TENTS were alight with blinding red flames. People scrambled to the safety of the forest. Some of the Argia attempted to control the fires, but they were too powerful. The best any of them could do was channel the flames away as others escaped out into the cool night air.
Savara’s heart raced as she rushed to find her friends, jumping over rows of flames, and dodging the fleeing people. Some even tried to pull her along with them, but she shrugged them off and continued.
“Storm!” she called to the flaming redhead running past her. “Where is everyone?”
“Where have you been?” Storm shouted back angrily. “You’ve had half the world losing their heads looking for you!”
“I—”
“Never mind. I’ll deal with you later,” she hissed, marching off in the direction of the next burning tent. Ash fell from the skies like blackened snowflakes in a toxic blizzard.
“I’m sorry,” Savara called as she tried to keep up with her. “Let me help you.”
“You want to help?” Storm spat, attempting to waste no more time with their conversation. “Fine, get the rest of these people out of the tents.”
With the help of a few Argia soldiers, they managed to clear the first quarter of the camp.
“Who’s still missing?” Savara asked.
“Sebas went off looking for your human friend, and neither of them is back yet!” Storm yelled. She slashed frantically through burning timber and canvas, moving onto each next tent with increased urgency. Her eyes grew watery with every tent she didn’t find them in. She pressed on, carving easily through the sides of the tents with just a flick of her sword.
“We’ll find them,” Savara called out to her.
Storm spun around with a fury, tears lacing the rims of her eyelids. “We’d better find them, or I swear on all Iturri, it’ll be your neck at the end of my sword,” she said.
Savara gulped and nodded, unable to voice her understanding. She followed Storm through the burning maze, passing the rest of the group who were all busy with their sections of the camp. Brass and two other Zerua sent air currents through the pathways, blowing away the smoke and allowing people to escape the tents. Griffin directed everyone to the safety of the forest. There was no sign of Jasper or Sebastian.
“Jasper!” Savara cried; her voice drowned out by crackling fires. Just as she was ready to give up, they found them, in the last tent, inches away from being consumed by the flames.
***
STORM SLICED THROUGH the mesh with ease, sending plumes of smoke billowing through the opening. Her heart skipped a beat as her eyes met his. The world around them was consumed by flames, but his eyes still glowed brighter than anything she’d ever known.
How dare he get himself into such a mess, Storm thought.
Sebastian held back the encroaching flames from reaching any closer to Jasper, whose leg was trapped under one of the fallen support beams. Savara raced over to help her friend while Storm helped him lift the beam. They managed to set him free quickly. Savara and Jasper limped through the slit and moved a safe distance away, but Storm stayed behind.
“Anika, go! The flames are too strong,” Sebastian called to her, unwilling to let go of the beam. A menacing crackle echoed through the tent.
“Sebas, don’t be stubborn. I’m not leaving you,” Storm replied between smoky coughs that left her feeling light-headed. Just as one of the support beams was about to fall above him, she rammed into him with all her might, pushing both their bodies through the slit. They landed with a hard thud on the ash-ridden ground. The tent came crashing in behind them, sending the scent of charred wood and cloth billowing into the night sky.
Though the world burned rapidly around them, in Storm’s mind, time stood still. Her head rested on the hollow of Sebastian’s chest; his quickened heartbeat echoed her own. She pushed herself upright, coming to rest in a compromising position on top of him.
“I like a woman on top,” he grinned, though she could tell he’d bruised his ribs again.
“Don’t get comfortable,” she scoffed, contemplating bruising him more as she made to stand. Storm almost couldn’t believe that, even as flames danced and clouds of smoke swallowed the air they breathed, Sebastian found time to make a joke. But the smirk soon left his face. Sebastian pulled her in close and rolled over her. “Sebas—” she began irritably before realising he’d done it to protect her, covering her like a human shield as he shot his hand out to block the crashing wave of flames.
Storm closed her eyes. The bright orange and yellow of the blaze seeped through her eyelids. It took longer than expected for the light to fade, but eventually, it did. The colour seeping through her eyelids dimmed from blinding white through red and eventually settling on black. A tear streamed down her cheek from the intensity of the moment. When she heard his heavy breath again, she knew it was over. Storm opened her eyes, finding him staring back at her, relief plastered across his face.
A smile tugged at his lips. “Taking turns is fun too,” he added with a wink.
“Get off of me, Sebastian!” Storm spat as she kicked him back to the ground. She stood up dusting off the dirt and ash that now covered every part of her body. Sebastian stood up beside her, unaware or uninterested by the charring in his arm or the soot that coated his body. His eyes fixated on her and her alone. “What is it?” said Storm, feeling an angry blush rush to her cheeks.
“Your hair...” he said, reaching behind her and holding up the braid that still clung to her head by half as many strands as before.
Storm reached back and dragged her hand along the tangled red braid. She frowned, reaching the part that had been chomped on by the flames. With a swift flick of the sword, she chopped off the length of it that hung below her shoulders and left it lying limp in his hand.
“Keep it, waste of time to maintain anyway,” Storm replied as she turned back to the rest of the group, her new bob ruffling freely in the smoky breeze. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Sebastian contemplating the length of hair. She knew she shouldn’t bother with him, but the way he gaped at the braid got her wondering. “What is your problem, Sebas?” she hissed at him.
He grinned at her before tossing the charred red braid to the fire and adding, “I love a woman with short hair.”
***
THE BRILLIANT ORANGE of the dawn sky was marred with heavy black plumes. Savara and Jasper, along with the rest of the camp, had taken refuge in the forest in whatever manner of shelter they could hassle together, though no one slept the night. Thankfully, no one was badly injured.
Savara shoved her face into her palms and cried. Everything she did ended in disaster. “This is all my fault,” she sobbed. “We should never have come here.” The strength she’d found with Big Tog had evaporated like the tents in the fire. He’d told her that she would have no choice but to go where he’d intended, but she didn’t think he would go so far as to make staying here impossible.
“Sav, what’s done is done. It’s not your fault,” Jasper replied as he stroked her back.
“But it is...” Savara stuttered, raising a hand to her gemstoned cheek. She still hadn’t told him about Big Tog and the soul bond, and after the night’s incidents, telling him was truly the last thing she wanted to do. How could she tell her best friend that she’d killed someone? That she would have to kill again or be killed herself? Savara met Jasper’s pleading gaze and caved. “I made a deal I shouldn’t have...”
The story trickled from her lips in non-specific details at first, but when it grew time for her to explain her gems, the words poured from her in floods. The pressure of the secret had built up inside her and now burst open like a broken dam. Everything from their time in the palace to her encounters with Big Tog. Fear flashed through Jasper’s eyes as she told him of the boy she’d inadvertently killed.
Jasper recoiled from her. “You never told me.”
“How could I, Jasper? You were busy and I—”
“Sav, that’s a lie. I always have time for you,” Jasper said, with an edge to his voice she’d never heard before. The white of his eyes glowed angrily against his ash-stained cheeks. “You’ve been avoiding me at every turn. You could’ve told me. We would’ve figured something out together.”
“I only wanted to keep you safe.” She frowned. They both knew it was a lie. The real reason she’d kept quiet was that she didn’t know how to tell him—the person who gazed at her with awe in his eyes—that she was a monster. “You don’t know what this world is capable of,” she stuttered. Or what I am, she wanted to add but couldn’t.
“Because I’m human?” Jasper growled. “That’s it isn’t it? Being human just isn’t enough for you...”
“Jasper, how could you say that?”
“It’s the truth, Sav. Admit it. Being human was never good enough for you, not even when we were home.”
“That wasn’t my home, Jasper.”
He clenched his fists. “It was the only home you’d ever known, and look how easily you’ve forgotten it.”
“That’s too far, Jasper. I haven’t forgotten anything!” she yelled, sending birds flapping into the morning sky.
“You go off with Sebastian every day, pretending that learning to fight will fix this, that he’ll help you figure your mess out, or at least help you avoid it. What you don’t see is that I’m the one who spends my days searching through towers of books to find something—anything—that might explain this, that might help you. So what if I’m just human? I’m the one who’s been beside you from day one, looking for a way to save you from yourself.”
“I...” Savara whimpered, tears brimming in her eyes.
“But that was never good enough... I was never good enough.” A silence set in heavily between them. After a few seconds, Jasper stood up, turning his back to her.
“I never meant to hurt you,” Savara whispered.
“You did a great job of that.” Jasper’s fists shook at his side. “The worst part is, I have always been there for you, I have never judged you, but you still felt you had to hide all of this from me.”
“Jasper, don’t go,” she pleaded. “Please, don’t go.”
He unclenched his fists and sighed. “Some things, Sav, you don’t get to choose,” he added, before leaving.
Savara’s heart dropped with each step that put distance between them. Her eyes followed him further and further away, until he disappeared behind a pile of smoking wood that seemed less scorched than she did. As her anger and fear grew, the thing inside her grew too. Restless and hungry. Hot tears streamed down her pallid cheeks. What have I done?
Violent shivers traced her body. Savara dug her nails into her palms, trying to suppress the menacing rush of power growing within. Her nails punched holes in the skin, leaving bloodied half-moons in their wake, but the pain was nothing compared to the vicious beating of powers against her will. She feared it might rip her in two.
I’m not a monster. She repeated those words over and over until the voices in her head stopped trying to contradict her. When the violent feeling finally died down, she let out a warm cloud of breath in the chilly morning air. The strain of her will left her battered and her palms bloody, but she knew it was a small price to pay for keeping a lid on whatever monster lay in wait just beneath her skin. Savara focused on the slits in her palms, willing the skin to stitch itself back together as it had with Big Tog, but this time, it didn’t respond.
Fine, she thought, feeling utterly defeated.
Savara sat alone with her thoughts and bloodied palms until the chill that wrapped her shoulders became too much to bear. When that happened, she finally let herself admit that Jasper was not coming back. The thing inside her had quelled, for now, and she figured there was no use freezing in place. Savara sniffled and wiped the tears from her cheeks, leaving streaks of black ash in their place, before setting off for a new place to wait out the cold.
She made her way over to the pile of charred wood that was once her tent. The roof had collapsed, and everything had fizzled up with it. There hadn’t been much to her little tent but at least it had been her own. In it, she wasn’t a missing princess or a bloodthirsty daemon. She wasn’t the person that snapped at her friends or murdered youths. In it, she was just Savara, something she hadn’t felt she’d been since she’d jumped worlds.
And now it’s gone...
She nudged at the debris with her feet, searching for some semblance of the person she was before life had so gratuitously forced change upon her. The wreckage around matched the one she felt inside. Her foot hit hard metal with a clang. Surprised to find part of her chest still intact, she opened it, careful not to burn her fingers on the warm metal rims. In the centre, still bound by brown paper and twine, she found the strange parcel—eerily untouched.
“This is all your fault,” Savara growled to the little package. “None of this would have happened if it weren’t for you.” She dragged another charcoal-stained finger across her cheek, sweeping away the angry tears. She walked with it towards the edge of the camp—or what was left of it, for at this point, it had almost all been reduced to cinders. “Because of you, I’m twice an orphan,” she hissed, entering the part of the forest that light recoiled from. “I’m stuck in this stupid world where I have to kill or be killed...” The contents of the box rattled in her hands, resonating with her words. “Because of you, there’s an entire nation of people waiting for some white knight to appear and save them from the reign of the mafia, and I’m all they’ve got. Because of you, I found out that all my wanting for adventure might just have been a wanting for death... for blood...” Savara’s blood ran cold. “I didn’t want any of this!” she wailed into the dark. I’ve lost everything... my home, my family, even my friends... Her world had dwindled to a series of traumatic flashbacks that endeavoured to attack at her most vulnerable, all because of the stupid package. Resignation caressed her spirit, as it was wont to do. “Fuck you, and fuck this,” she hissed at the little box as she hurled it into the blackened depths of the forest.
Savara slumped to her knees and began to sob. Her uncle was gone. Ms Short was gone. Memories of the family she once had—all gone. Her best friend, gone. Her new friends, she knew it was only time, especially after the blaze. And it was all her fault. Her own heart had been so used to receiving sensations from others that she’d almost forgotten she too could feel—could hurt. Life had insisted on breaking her, taking away more and more of her until it finally did. She didn’t wonder if she’d ever recover, the innocent part of her that believed in recoveries was gone...
And never coming back.
Savara had no idea how long she’d been crying when the chill gripped her shoulder, but longer it was until she realised it bore the shape of a firm hand.
“You’re not done yet,” said the voice she was tired of hearing but still couldn’t place.
As the chill crept further over her shoulders and the scent of night flowers filled her nose, she realised this entity who had been chasing her all around Visanthe might very well be Death himself.
“I am,” Savara wept. “I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep hurting the people I love. I can’t keep pretending I’m okay when I’m not. My heart feels like it’s about to give out all the time and I can’t keep pushing. I want it to give out... put me out of this misery. I’m tired of it all... I can’t hold on any longer.”
“You’re stronger than this,” the voice replied with unusual care. “Besides, it’s not your time.”
“Make it my time,” she sniffled. “Please... I don’t want to go on.”
“I see...” The chill around her disappeared for a second, and when it returned, she heard something drop at her feet. The entity she believed to be Death stooped beside her and ran a cold finger down the side of her face, scooping up her tears. The sensation of his touch died long after he’d removed it. “The world has not yet ended, princess, and you are not yet bested.” Death sighed as he stood. “We will meet again soon,” he added, and in a chilling flourish, he too was gone.
When Savara finally looked up from her knees, she noticed a lingering cloud of black dust hovering beside her. Beneath it, where Death had stood, the little brown package had returned; this time, with a strange silvery card attached to it and a single word scrawled across it: Idune.
