T
here’s no pain. No light or dark, only the feeling of a void. As if I carved out a piece of my soul and fell into the chasm left behind.
I fall through the emptiness for an eternity. There’s no up or down, right or wrong, only an endless night under a starless sky, and I break apart on the descent.
Things that were once important to me are now inconsequential. Moments and people are but gray shadows in the void.
Time ebbs, and I’m not sure if I’m awake or asleep.
But then an ember sparks in the void, warming my soul.
Flames,yes—those are familiar.
I am reborn in the heat, and my name is Fire.
My hand flexes once before flames curl around each finger, twining as a lover would. The fire absorbs into my skin, and my veins glow following their path. Soon, my entire body brims with it.
This is right.
This is who I am, was, and will be. I am the heat in the earth and the stars in the endless night sky.
I am Fire, and the Fates have chosen me.
Anamcar.
The word brushes my mind, and I have heard it before. It resonates in my marrow and melds into my bones before disappearing as quickly as it came.
I realize then that my eyes are closed, so I open them to a fiery white haze. A male looks at me, smiling, and says a name I don’t know.No. That’s not me.
The world behind him is completely dark, but others in the field are watching, staring at me expectantly. Heat builds in my core, and I lash out with my magic, pushing against the darkness.
The shadows hesitate against my fire, pressing but making no move to fight. But I hold no such reservations. Heat pours from me, sending wave after wave gusting into the space below, backing the crowd up.
I spear the darkness in half and burn the edges to ash until daylight appears.
The cinders fall onto the group of bloodied males. None speaks. Their expressions are stunned, and I see why. I float above the remaining planks of a wooden porch.
The wood groans as I land and take one tentative step on the scorched staircase, fearing they may collapse, but they hold.
The males in the group are unfamiliar, and before I can ask who they are, the tallest one, with gray eyes, black hair, and a handsome smile, speaks. “My dear, welcome back.”
My dear?
I survey the males again, and maybe I was wrong. Somethingis familiar about one of them.
The male from the porch, his green eyes pull me in, and the wheels of my mind spin, trying to place him. But as I reach for a memory, a sharp, stabbing pain pierces my skull.
“Shit!” My flames flare in response, and the color drains from the male’s face.
“Grace?” His voice is quiet as he takes a hesitant step forward, as if afraid I may run.
I regard the males once more. They are soold. With each century they linger, their magic weakens. My magic sings that the world needs to change—burn away the old and begin anew. And I almost follow through with the impulse, but something stops me, a forgotten piece of myself peeking through. Whoever I was still holds sway—guess I didn’t burn long enough.
I glance back at the handsome gray-eyed male. “I know you?”
He tilts his head, giving me a puzzled look. “Yes, I am Niethal Grager, King of Selen. And you are Grace Helden of Trimton. Well,formerlyof Trimton. It would seem you have a new home now.” He points to the crumbling castle beyond an enormous pile of ash, and part of my heart aches, looking at the smoking mound of rubble, but my fire burns the thought away.
I know that castle.