Chapter 5: The Death of Fire

The inspiration for this story was the first line. Just a twitch.

It was just that twitch.  That one little twitch told him exactly what he needed to know.

She stood calmly, rigidly before him, her open arms as welcoming as stone.  No fear could be seen in her eyes; no despair, no hidden malice for the horrid crime he had committed could be found there.  Only a sort of murky patience was clear in those eternal pools of mossy green and black waters.  Her ebony curls stirred in the wind, swirling around her pale-skinned arms and lashing at her shell-pink limes as she smiled at him.  For a moment, he thought that maybe he could come home again.  Just maybe she could forgive him for what he'd done all those years ago.  For a moment, he dared to hope.

And perhaps, It could have been that way.  But then, she twitched.

It wasn't the tiny jumping of the veins and muscles in her neck that he was used to --he had even come to love about her, as he could recognize it was caused by the stress of caring and worrying for so many wounded souls in need of healing.  Her leg twitched just the tiniest bit, a sure sign of aggravation and tension.  At that moment, all hell broke loose.

Fire flashed at his fingertips, an automatic defensive response.  She stood frozen; fear was plainly etched on her face then as her eyes locked on the flames.  Her eyes turned slate gray with just the tiniest glimmer of cobalt blue, and her mind turned back to that dreadful day.

Time turned backwards for him as well.  He had only enough time to remember flames spreading across the horizon, a wide open maw consuming the house in a blaze of orange and white and insufferable heat.  The cry of a child rang out from within --the cry of their child, alone.

“It was an accident,” he whimpered, “I’m so sorry Ariela… I’m so sorry…”

            Tears began to fall, gliding down her cheeks as she whispered, “I’m sorry too.”

            Then she raised her face to the pale moon, her arms lifting above her head as the rain began to fall like her tears on him alone, drowning him in the inescapable wetness.  He knelt, his head bowed, his fire gone, waiting for the final blow he knew was coming.

He would not fight her; he had promised long ago that he would never hurt her again.

            Her sorrow reached into the earth, and long thorny vines grew from it.  They reached out to wrap around his throat, dragging him down into the mud and enveloping him, but not burying him.  His blood mixed with the earth, and she knelt next to his body.

            Once the last bit of light faded from his cold, dead eyes, she whispered, “I never stopped loving you, Elias.  Never.  I hated what you became… what your power made you.  Goodbye, mi amor.”

            She laid a kiss on his forehead, and then she rose and walked away.  Finally, they were both free.

Author's Note

What do you think?