by Deirdra Eden
“But I don’t speak Neviahan,” I said, confused as to why I could understand, but not speak the language.
“You will. It is not a language someone can teach you. One day when there is something important for you to say, the Neviahan melody will move you to Prayer Song in the Neviahan language.”
The more I learned about my people and this Earth, the more I realized how much I didn’t know.
Eva stayed with me throughout the day. Talking with her helped the time go by faster and made the work less tedious. It was almost dusk by the time every weed in the courtyard lay in a heap on the stone floor.
As if summoned by the end of the project he’d given me, Zacaris appeared, his usual gloomy self, and assessed the pile of weeds. “Once you burn it, then you will be done for the day.”
Again, my shoulders slumped in defeat. Weeding every inch of this garden had been an arduous task, and Zacaris hadn’t even bothered to praise my completion of it. Besides, burning the weeds would be difficult. My energy was drained and I needed sleep or sunlight. Although I had spontaneously combusted a few times, he expected a concentrated effort from me to create and contain a fire. I hadn’t accomplished that yet. I hadn’t even had the opportunity to try.
I bit my lower lip and looked at Eva, who stood next to her husband. If I lost control, Zacaris could protect himself with his fire abilities, but Eva might get hurt. Her abilities to connect with others around her would do little to protect her from my fire. I hesitated and stalled by strolling around the weeds.
The first time I had created fire, I’s been sitting in the winter snow, angry and afraid I would freeze to death. As a mortal, when I felt any strong emotion, it triggered my ability to create fire as naturally as an instinct to fight or flee from a stressful situation. Now, as an Immortal, the smallest amount of stress triggered a destructive inferno. I stared at the weeds. How could I create a controlled fire to consume the weeds without the stress that had triggered it before? How could I ensure no one would get hurt?
I snapped my fingers at the weeds. Nothing happened. I clapped my hands. There was no eruption. I smiled sheepishly. Only Eva smiled back. Zacaris’ frown remained etched into his expression as though he was made of stone. Chagrined, I crouched beside the pile and narrowed my eyes, trying to call forward some emotion to ignite the flames within me, but with Zacaris and Eva looking on, the only emotion readily available was embarrassment.
Finally, I sighed with defeat and stood, turning to Zacaris. “I haven’t created fire on purpose for a long time. Would you mind showing me how I should do it?” I wanted to remind him that he was my teacher.
Zacaris narrowed his eyes and stood like a statue, but Eva pushed him forward. He strode toward the pile of foliage and snatched a dried leaf by the stem between his thumb and finger. It smoldered at the stem and charred all the way up, leaving nothing but the skeletal veins of the leaf. His gaze never broke contact with mine.
He made it look easy, as if he could have done it in his sleep. I picked up a leaf and glared at it. Zacaris hadn’t explained anything, and I had no better idea how to ignite the pile of weeds than a few moments before. “Burn,” I growled under my breath, letting my irritation with Zacaris surge through me. A fire nova blasted out of my hands. Zacaris stepped in front of Eva. I blinked several times as my vision recovered from the searing light.
There was nothing left of the leaf, not even ash. I had made fire, but I hadn’t controlled it. I took another leaf. Again, I tapped into my frustration, but concentrated as much as I could on keeping the flame small. As before, a tower of fire erupted. I tried again and again, but the same thing happened. With each failed attempt, my frustration grew, making it even more difficult to control the size of the flame. In anger, I gathered a handful of weeds, gripping them tightly within my fist. Before I could even try to control the fire, the weeds erupted into an explosion that lit the mountainside behind us.
Zacaris turned to Eva. “Go home,” he whispered. Eva obeyed, casting me a commiserating smile over her shoulder as she floated away.
Embarrassed by Zacaris’ lack of trust, I grabbed weed after weed, but each eruption was bigger than the last. The setting sun and the occasional bursts of fire exploding from me were the only light in the courtyard. The massive heap of weeds had dwindled until only the tiny weeds remained scattered across the stones.
Zacaris, stood there with his arms crossed watching me with narrowed eyes and an irritated expression. I longed to show him I could succeed, that I was worth training, and that I could rescue Azrael if given the chance. I took a deep breath, and instead of relying on my negative emotions, I summoned forward the vague memories I had of Neviah and my time with Azrael before we had gone to Earth. I let the serenity envelop me and fueled the fire inside me with the love we had shared. I pinched a weed between my fingers and forced myself to focus on the tiny sprout the way I did when I plucked it from the soil. It smoldered in my fingertips then flickered slowly up the stem, burning the entire weed with small sparks.
I had done it! I gasped in amazement then smiled at Zacaris victoriously.
Zacaris clapped his hands in a steady rhythm, but he still frowned in irritation.
I did it again to be sure it hadn’t been luck. One by one the sprouts smoldered in my hands and flickered before running out of fuel. I held up my hands, blackened with ash.
“Zacaris, I did it!” I cheered. There were no eruptions, fireballs, or fierce infernos, just steady controlled flames and flickers. I pointed to a dry leaf on the ground. The foliage lit up and disintegrated. I could have danced with joy over finally gaining some mastery over my powers.
“Good.” Zacaris sounded pleased and his scowl had disappeared. “Now, get some sleep. Tomorrow the hard work begins.”
Chapter Six
Neviahan Powers
Working all day in the shade and expending massive amounts of fire drained the energy from my immortal body. I stumbled toward the palace Azrael had built for me, full of pretty things but devoid of what I wanted most. So far, I had avoided this place as much as I avoided sleeping. The silence haunted me and mocked me with dreams that never came true, reminding me of how lonely I was.
I navigated the halls to my scarlet and silver room. I fell into a deep slumber as soon as my head hit the pillow and all my repressed terror flooded out of my subconscious into my dreams.
This dream took me back to the courtyard garden. The weeds I had meticulously plucked that day had grown back and towered above me like a massive jungle. Fallen, dead leaves the size of shields made the ground unsteady as I hobbled over them.
“Aura!”
I recognized Azrael’s voice right away. He sprinted toward me from the other side of the courtyard. His perfect, bright eyes glittered like the heavens.
“Azrael!” I knew I was dreaming, but I raced toward him, desperate to embrace even an illusion of him.
A vine of morning glory snaked around his leg and yanked him to the ground. Azrael fought against the weed covered in fragrant white flowers. It coiled around him, tangling him in a suffocating grip. Azrael reached out to me for help. I reached back, and for a moment, the space between us closed, allowing me to grip his fingers. “Help me, Aura,” he pleaded.
A moment later he slipped and Azrael was now too far away to touch. “Throw me your sword!” he shouted to me.
The Sword of Neviah appeared at my side. I unsheathed the holy weapon and tossed it to Azrael. He deftly caught the handle of the blade and sliced away the weeds. Jumping to his feet, he prepared to fight the serpent-like vines whipping toward him. As Azrael fought against the whole jungle, I noticed his movements slowing and becoming sloppy. He needed more light. I wrapped my arms around the stem of a tree-size weed and uprooted it from the ground. Sunlight filtered through the jungle in a small patch. I ripped out weed after weed until the light from the sun renewed Azrael’s energy.
The weeds retreated. Azrael turned to me, but his smile quickly faded. Vines sna
pped and leaves crunched as something massive approached from behind. The foe, shrouded in darkness, reared it’s scaly head. The serpent was as big as a dragon. It’s pupils narrowed as it focused on Azrael. Fangs protruded from an elongated face, not to inject venom into its prey, but to suck out his blood and steal his Neviahan power.
Azrael turned to me. Fear clouded the stars in his eyes. “Run, Aura!”
I awoke, shot out of bed, and gasped for air. “Help me, Aura,” Azrael’s voice, in an urgent whisper still echoed around the room. Azrael had used our connection with one another to call to me in my dreams, leaving me little doubt about the dream’s purpose.
Lightning blazed across the sky and lit my room with disorienting white flashes through the window. Thunder roared outside and droplets of water pelted against the window. I raced to the closet and found my precious gift from the King of Neviah. The Flaming Sword of Neviah glowed with a white aura and glistened like silver, gold, and blue diamonds in the faint light of the storm. Only those with the power of Starfire could wield this sword, and my love desperately needed it.
I sprinted with immortal speed from the castle toward the tower of the High Druid of Fire. Rain slammed against my face at hurricane force as another bolt of lightning whipped across the sky. The tower stood like a fiery beacon at the center of the sanctuary. From the high windows gold flames urged me forward.
I burst through the doors of the tower as the thunder roared. Eva and Zacaris were both studying in the main hall and rose to their feet when they saw me. Rain dripped into a puddle on the floor below me, and I pushed wet strands of hair from my face. Eva hurried toward me immediately, snatching up a blanket as she came.
“What is it, dear?” she asked as she wrapped the warm blanket around me. “You look like you’ve seen Erebus himself.”
“Azrael needs this sword.” I kept my voice firm and adamant as I clutched the Neviahan sword to my chest. “We need someone to deliver it, someone who can stealthily cut through enemy territory.” Zacaris clenched his jaw. Eva busied herself by running her hands over my shoulders and squeezing the water from my hair, adding to the puddle on the ground. She and avoided my eyes the entire time which was unlike her. My heart sank. Something had happened—something horrible.
“What is wrong?” I asked.
Zacaris tapped his fingers along a parchment for several seconds. “We just received bad news from the Celtic Islands.” I swallowed hard as he continued. “Erebus launched a full scale assault against our people. The Immortals guarding the Stone of Destiny are the last remaining Immortals on the Celtic Islands. The High Druids have ordered them to take the Stone of Destiny and retreat.”
“We can still win this war!” I begged. “Azrael is in enemy territory and he is still fighting.” Lightning lit up the windows. I waited until the thunder finished roaring before I went on. “There is hope. He is the hope. He called to me for help in my dreams. Let me take this sword to him. I know he will help the remaining Immortals.”
“It’s out of the question!” Zacaris bellowed like the thunder. “Sending you to Azrael is like handing Erebus the Starfire. Azrael is most likely dead and Erebus probably has half of Starfire. As long as you are safe, so is Starfire.”
“Azrael is not dead!” I shouted. “He spoke to me, but he will be dead if you do not allow me to take this sword to him, and without him.” I held my fist to my heart. “Not even I can use Starfire. It is lost either way.”
Zacaris breathed heavily in the silence, his nostrils flaring with irritation that I would dare contradict him. “At least Starfire won’t be used against us,” he snapped.
“Zacaris!” Eva scolded in a hushed whisper. She unwound the now damp blanket from my shoulders and replaced it with another. When she turned to me her soft face was filled with pity and worry. “I know you want to go, Auriella,” she said in a tone too sweet to irritate me. “But protecting Starfire is our first priority—your first priority.”
I turned away from her to glare at Zacaris. In Azrael’s time of greatest need, Zacaris was denying what he needed most. “You were never going to let me search for Azrael. Not even after I was trained,” I accused, my voice shaking.
Zacaris didn’t answer.
I clenched the sword tighter and looked down, trying to control my emotions, but the embers in the fireplace flickered, illuminating the polished mahogany furniture and smooth marble tile. Steam rose from my wet clothes and evaporated from the puddle around my feet.
“You are leaving Azrael for dead!” Heat radiated off me in distorted waves, still controlled. Eva, who stood next to me, took a step back. “Every moment we waste here is another moment that Azrael stands outnumbered against hordes of Legionnaires and Immortal Fallen Watchers.” I clenched my fists tighter, refusing to lose control, but allowing Zacaris to see the power I did have. “I won’t give up on him.”
Zacaris and I stared at each other, neither of us backing down. Though he didn’t put his power on display the way I did, the fire in the marble fireplace whipped into tight spirals and the embers snapped.
Eva wove her fingers between Zacaris’. “Zacaris, please,” she said.
Zacaris was butter in her warm hands. The fire tamed behind him, settling into a low, comfortable flame. His muscles relaxed.
“How far are you willing to go?” he asked me, his voice still stern.
I squared my shoulders. “I have crossed through the veil of death and back, and I am willing to do it again.”
Zacaris swept his robe behind him and advanced forward. Perhaps the fire had calmed in the fireplace, but it roared in his eyes, his own fervor evident. “How hard are you willing to work?”
I glared back at the high druid with the same intensity. “Harder than the Rebellion.”
“Then we don’t have time for your attitude.”
I kept my voice steady, but curt with a sharp edge. “I have done everything you asked of me.”
Zacaris’ chest fell as he exhaled. “I’m talking about your attitude of helplessness.” His voice rose so that the echoes bounced off the high chamber. The fire behind him roared to fill the fireplace. A second later, the flames collapsed to ash. The room went dark and cold like his glare.
“Do you have any idea who you are—what you are?” He spoke in a low tone now, but it resounded eerily in the dark room.
I swallowed and searched for the answer he was looking for. Of course I knew who I was.
Without waiting for me to guess, Zacaris groaned. The candles on the table flicked back to life, as did a small fire. “You have no idea.” He threw his hands out in frustration, ruining his regal composure. “I don’t have time for long explanations, Auriella, so I’m going to give it to you straight. You are afraid of how powerful you are. As soon as you get over that fear, we can send you into battle. You already know how to use your powers. We need to work on mastering what is in here.” Zacaris pointed to my head.
I scowled. Was he calling me stupid?
“Thoughts and feelings lead to actions.” He paused and allowed me to absorb his chastisement. “Azrael is alive, you say? Well, then he is in an intense war zone. Your aid can mean the difference between his life and death.” He paused then asked, “Are you afraid?”
I folded my arms over my chest, ready to tell him I was brave and ready to take on the whole Dark Rebellion, but he would know I was lying. “Yes,” I said. “I am afraid, but I fear losing Azrael far more than I fear fighting the Legions of Erebus.”
“That is the very reason, I cannot send you into battle with Azrael,” he shouted and pounded a fist onto the table, rattling the candles in their holders. I jumped back startled. “What if Azrael joins with the Legion, then what? Will you join as well? What if Azrael is already dead? Will you go rogue as he did and roam Europe like a suicidal fool?” Flames burst from Zacaris’ fist. He raised his hands and pointed a fiery finger at me. “Protecting Starfire is priority over your romance. Until you understand that, until you master your feelings
—your fear and your love—you are an easy target.”
Now I advanced forward, placing my both hands on the table, leaning forward and staring at Zacaris. “Then train me! Help me!”
I raised my hands, making the flames of every candle in the room stretch high before lowering my hands and releasing the flames to normal.
I couldn’t tell for sure, but Zacaris almost smiled. “Fine,” Zacaris said. “Let’s get started.”
Chapter Seven
Eva’s Sacrifice
Zacaris paced in front of the fireplace with his hands clenched behind his back. I watched him, my eyes following his stiff movements, waiting for him to begin. “All Watchers have at least one power,” he said. “It is not uncommon for Watchers to have many gifts. Some of these gifts are discrete, and some, like your power of fire is … well … disastrous.” He didn’t acknowledge that I’d made huge strides since waking up only a few days before.
“Some powers have weaknesses and limitations like your ability to heal. Right now you can only heal your own flesh wounds to protect your blood, but you have a greater ability to heal that you have not yet discovered.” He stopped pacing long enough to study me, tilting his head with curiosity, and then narrowing his eyes and betraying frustration. He huffed and continued stalking back and forth in front of the long table. “Now there are powers that are constant and have no limits. Do you know what your constant gift is?”
“Fire.” Simple. I’d had the gift for years and kept it when I awoke as an Immortal.
“Wrong!” Zacaris gave me an icy glare. His voice still echoed around the room repeating, “Wrong! Wrong, Wrong!” He waited until there was silence then added, “You don’t even have control over your gift of fire.”
I crossed my arms under my chest. Then what did he think my constant power was? The tension escalated as the seconds passed in silence. I looked from Zacaris to Eva hoping one of them would speak, preferably Eva.
