by Emma Hamm
“Ignes, I’m fine. We’re fine.”
“I should have been here.” He squeezed her body. The tingle of healing danced across her skin along with the simultaneous breakdown of her human body. “I should have been with you.”
“You would have banished his darkness and frightened him away. Of that I have no doubt.” She knew how much Ignes needed his pride stroked. More than that, she understood how he felt.
She wanted to burn as well. The heat in her chest became the rumble of a volcano ready to burst. The only way to relieve the pressure was to release it. The tent would burn so prettily. The dyes in the fabric would make her flames different colors. The dry grass outside would feed her children made of death so easily.
The smallest of embers dropped from them. It landed upon the pile of blankets she was supposed to be using as a bed, and the softest curl of smoke grew. Mercy tucked her head against Ignes’s shoulder and watched it grow.
Yellow, weak, and so small, the tiny flame feasted on air and fabric. And within the tiny spark, so small it could have topped a candle, she saw her family running. She heard their screams inside her head. And in that light, she watched the Hag burn.
Gasping, she pushed herself from Ignes’s comforting arms and put the fire out with white-knuckled fists. She hated to kill it. But she could not stare into that image any longer.
“Mercy!” Ignes cried.
The flame was gone. She had crushed it. Tears did not roll down her cheeks, as she was too far gone to let them loose. It had been her child. Every flame was her child.
Mercy forced her hands open and stared down into her palms. The ache in her heart grew too great, too painful. She curled slowly into herself.
“The Shadow Man was right,” she muttered. “We can’t control ourselves.”
Ignes knelt next to her, but his knees pressing into the blankets created more flames. She crawled away from him as ragged breaths sobbed out of her chest. “Stop, stop, stop.”
“Mercy?”
“We cannot. We cannot harm them, Ignes. I will not watch them die.”
“They won’t.” He sounded confused. “We have never harmed anyone.”
“You know as well as I that is a lie. I saw it in the flames.”
She turned to him and shook her head helplessly. She did not know what to do. They were Phoenix. Born of fire and destruction. There was nothing on this earth that could stop them if they lost control.
And she did not know the meaning of control.
He shifted, pulling in the heat of his form until the fire shrank. Mercy could feel the excess power draining into her body. But, instead of making her feel invigorated, it only made her more exhausted.
Ignes continued to make himself smaller and smaller until he returned to his lizard like form. The size of a small dog, he curled himself against her knee and sighed.
“We can only do what we can,” he said.
“I understand that. But we are not in the Dream World any longer, Ignes. What we do could hurt someone other than ourselves.”
“And you worry about that? Were you not the one threatening to kill everyone in the prison?”
“That was different.”
“No, it wasn’t. You just didn’t know the people you would have been hurting.”
He was right. She knew he was right. She would have destroyed everyone in that prison and felt no guilt. But she also would have stepped further towards creating the monster she knew they could become.
Mercy sighed and lay down on the remaining blankets. She pressed her face into the soft fabric, breathing in the scent of ash and scorched cloth. Ignes crawled up her leg and wound himself into the hollow of her hip. He was careful not to touch any part of the bed he could burn.
She shuddered as she inhaled. “What are we going to do, Ignes?”
“What we have always done. We are going to survive.”
“Can we live with others?”
“I don’t know.” He stretched his lizard head and rested it gently against her shoulder. “But if it makes you happy, we can try.”
She didn’t know what made her happy anymore. Mercy’s body slowly relaxed as Ignes’s heat sank into her. Her jaw cracked in a wide yawn.
“Watch over me tonight? So I don’t have nightmares.”
Small sparks of light appeared throughout the tent. These were controlled, fed only by their magic running through their veins. “Rest easy.”
Her eyes closed as the shadows were chased from her prone body.
“Mercy!” The Hag shouted across the fields. “You have grown weak in your slumber!”
Mercy chuckled and wiped at her brow. Perhaps she had, but did the old woman really expect her to keep up?
Gardening hadn’t sounded daunting when Mercy had agreed to help. The Hag, Priscilla, was so kind this morning. Mercy had awoken to the smell of sweet porridge brought directly to her tent. When asked politely to assist, Mercy had been all too pleased to help.
She hadn’t realized “gardening” really meant tilling the fields.
“I’m going to bring you back a horse!” she bellowed.
“No need!” the old woman shouted back. “I have you!”
Mercy shook her head with a rueful grin. They were trying to kill her; surely that was the only explanation. Her back ached, her feet throbbed, and there was a headache building between her eyes.
She straightened. A headache. Her grin widened. When was the last time she’d had a lasting headache?
“Nope.” Ignes poked his lizard-like head out from underneath her shirt.
The slight pain of the headache vanished.
“Oh come on, that’s not fair.”
“Yes it is.” Tingling started in her blistered feet, which cooled as the healing began.
“Ignes! How am I supposed to be satisfied with my hard day’s work?”
“By being able to work again tomorrow,” he grumbled as he disappeared back down her shirt.
She shook her head, but Ignes’s interference did not hinder her pleasure of the moment. A real sun was shining down upon her back and a sweet breeze that didn’t smell of destruction or ruin brushed past her skin. This was not her Dream World; she was here.
Priscilla had loaned her shoes, but Mercy wanted to take them off. Though the ground would likely hurt the soles of her feet, she longed to feel the coolness of the grass and the squish of mud between her toes. Just to feel the sensations once again.
The hoe in her hands suddenly felt a little heavier. She wasn’t really tired — thanks to Ignes — but she wanted to leave. Gardening had been entertaining. She had enjoyed giving back to the community that had helped keep her sane.
Now she was ready for something more.
Tiny stomped by her, his bare feet digging through the ground much faster than her hoe. “You can go.” He chuckled. “We appreciate the help. But you’re holding all of us up.”
She cocked a hip and leaned on the tool. “Really? Then why did you ask for my help?”
“Pity. We didn’t want you to feel useless.”
“I’m not useless!”
“Of course you aren’t.” Tiny’s voice rang with barely contained laughter. “Why don’t you run to the river and get us some fresh water for the night?”
“I don’t do water.”
“No, but we do need water.”
She raised a suspicious eyebrow. “To drink?”
He pressed a hand over his mouth. His shoulders shook with mirth as he managed to stammer, “To put out the fires.”
“Tiny!” she shouted as he wandered away. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and his laughter boomed all around them.
Mercy shook her head and planted her fists on her hips. She would have to get the Giant back somehow. But that might take immense planning and likely a few weeks to prepare.
She blinked a few times as the thought solidified. She was thinking she would stay. After just a few days here, this place felt safe enough to linger. The clearing was filled w
ith gypsy tents and fields full of crops, but it was in the middle of a forest that frightened most travelers away. Surely no one could find them here.
It had been years, hundreds of years, since she was able to call a place home. Even before her slumber, Mercy remembered life being difficult, rough, and her mind being emotionally disconnected. She had never felt at home in any place. Nowhere that had lingered through the depths of time.
“I also need water hawthorne.” The croaky voice came from Priscilla who had snuck up behind Mercy.
Flames immediately curled from Mercy’s palms and up her arms. As her heart slowed from being startled, she breathed in through her nose. “You really shouldn’t frighten me.”
“One day, you will gain control.” Priscilla reached out to pat her on the shoulder. “Until then, I will start to walk loudly through fields towards you. Still, if you wish not to be startled, then you should stop getting lost in your thoughts.”
The Hag had a point. Mercy didn’t know how to answer her. Saying she was right seemed redundant, and an argument felt wrong. So she shrugged. “Hawthorne?”
“I use it in my healing spells.” She pointed a gnarled finger towards the forest. “The river is not far. You’ll be able to find it easily. And once you do, look for the vanilla scented white flowers.”
Mercy knew very little about plants. In her experience, killing them was much easier than growing them. But for Priscilla, she would do anything.
She nodded. “All right. I’ll be back soon then.”
Some strange emotion sparkled in Priscilla’s eyes. She waved a hand. “Oh take your time, dear.”
Frowning, Mercy walked through the field towards the edge of the forest. She barely had time to enjoy the sound of birds chirping before Ignes stuck his head out of her shirt.
“You can take your shoes off now, you know,” he said.
She paused. Her red hair tickled her cheeks as the wind danced around her. “That’s a wonderful idea.”
Mercy smiled when she leaned down to take her shoes off. She left them in the field with plans to find them later, just for another excuse to roll in the waves of wheat.
“It’s so green, Ignes.” Her whisper was carried by the breeze towards the heavens.
“Strange,” Ignes muttered. His tongue flicked out to taste the air. “I’m not used to it.”
“You’re more used to it than I. You were out and about while I remained in the Dreaming World.”
“True, but this tastes different than the forest.”
“You’ve been here too!” She laughed as her toes squelched in the mud. “You’ve been to all of these places without me.”
“Not the same,” he told her. “Without you, I was just a flame. I was weak by the time I made it here. I wasn’t enjoying the scenery.”
“The pictures you showed me in the flames just don’t do it justice. I forgot what the real world looked like.”
“And how dangerous it is.”
Mercy reached up to tap him on the forehead. “Enough of that. I don’t want to think about bad things today.”
“But the Shadow Man was in our tent just a few nights ago—”
“And he hasn’t returned,” she interrupted. “He said he was a friend. And after the warning he gave us, I’m inclined to trust him. I don’t make it a habit to trust just anyone, you know.”
They both fell silent as she picked her way through milkweed. Great puffs of white seeds erupted from every bulb she touched. They bobbed up and down before her as though they were tiny Fairies.
She refused to think about the Fairy who had hardly said a word to her since the night she kissed him. Mercy vividly remembered the feel of him against her skin. Yet he didn’t even glance her way.
Perhaps she was wrong about the mystery woman. He still called out to her in his sleep. Mercy wasn’t so disconnected that she didn’t know what that could mean. Maybe he was still in love with his mystery woman and had lied to her.
A milkweed seed landed upon her nose.
“Right.” She laughed and brushed it away. “We’re not thinking bad thoughts today.”
“Last one,” Ignes said. “Do you think they set up enough protection?”
“I don’t think anyone could get through their spells. The shield will hold, Tiny will keep watch, no one will ever know we were here. Or that they are here.”
Ignes tucked himself back into her shirt with a quiet huff, and it was almost as though she were alone again. The edge of the forest loomed before Mercy, but it did not unnerve her. The great trees knew she was a danger to them. Their roots would remain deeply embedded in the ground and would not attack her.
Her bare feet transferred from hard packed earth to moss. The cool shade of the forest was a balm to her heated skin. She was always warmer than the average person, but even she felt the effects of the blistering sun.
She paused and listened for the burbling of water. The river wasn’t far from the edge of the forest. The other creatures had spoken of its gentle flow and how the water was warm enough to swim in. Mercy wasn’t eager to be close to the dreaded substance, but she was excited to see it.
Water was a double-edged sword for her. It was life sustaining; even a Phoenix had to drink. But it could also kill her if she was submerged for too long.
Mercy wasn’t even sure she could swim anymore.
There it was, the quiet sound of rushing water. It tickled her ears, coming from nearby.
“So the others were right,” she murmured.
Her feet sank ankle-deep into the thick green moss. Everything around her was mint colored and earthen scented. The green she had so desired throughout her sleep was now at her fingertips. The beauty was not lost upon Mercy.
Every time she walked past a particularly large tree, and that was nearly every tree, she reached out to touch it. It was an apology for the tree she had harmed, a thank you for guiding her back to this place.
The yellow dress Priscilla had given her today was little more than a sarong. Mercy had twisted it around her neck and left the ends free to tangle around her tan legs. Dirty handprints marred the fabric, but they could be cleaned — if Ignes didn’t burn the dress first. Giving Mercy anything meant to last was a mistake.
Her eyes lingered upon small details in the forest around her. A tiny brown bird hopped along a long branch. Sounds of leaves rattling startled her for a moment before she laughed. A squirrel with rainbow colored fur chattered at her from high up in the canopy.
There were details here she had never gotten right in the Dream World. She wasn’t surprised by it. Eventually, her memories of the real world had diminished and her mind had filled in the gaps with whatever it could imagine. Seeing the pieces she had missed was a blessing she had never expected to be gifted.
Her palm was abraded by the harsh bark of the trees, something she had never gotten right in her dream. She had made them smooth as sandstone, but they were not. She appreciated their roughness. Somehow, it made them more likeable.
The sound of moving water grew louder until she saw the sparkling river. The others were right. It was slow. Eddies swirled with bright white foam, suggesting some kind of movement. Otherwise, she would have sworn the water was motionless.
The moss trailed right into the water, making the river seem as though it were flooding onto the land. It could very well be, for all she knew. However, Mercy hoped that it was always like this. Land meeting water seamlessly.
Splashing caught her attention. Slowly, she turned her head to look upstream. And immediately froze.
Jasper. Shirtless. Or probably more than just shirtless, considering he was bathing.
Mercy should have guessed Priscilla and Tiny had something up their sleeves. She blew a strand of hair out of her face and leaned against the nearest tree.
He really was quite the specimen. He could have been a poster child for what a man should look like. His shoulders were wide, nearly too wide for his tapered waist. Despite his ribs showing — likely
due to his time in Malachi’s dungeon — powerful muscles rippled beneath his skin as he scrubbed his shoulders.
She couldn’t tell if there were scars decorating the pale flesh from this distance, but she would bet money that there were. He was built like a fighter. It was the first thing she had admired about him.
Wet hair slicked back from his face to trail below his shoulders. She hadn’t noticed his hair was quite that long. Wavy hair had a way of seeming shorter than it actually was. Even his beard was longer while wet.
She snorted. Leave it to Jasper to appear even larger while wet. He obviously was not related to any kind of dog species.
Mercy started picking her way across fallen branches. His back was towards her, wings spread wide and held high above the water. She wondered if he wasn’t able to get them wet. A dragonfly wouldn’t like getting wet either. And they certainly looked as though they should belong to some kind of iridescent insect.
Once she was close enough to make out individual strands of hair plastered along the long line of his back, she leaned against another tree. Ignes pushed up from her chest. Instead of allowing him a peek, Mercy shook her head, placed a single finger against his forehead, and pushed him back down into his fireproof pouch.
This one was for her.
He was holding sand, she realized. He kept ducking down into the water and coming back up with handfuls of white grit. Then, he would scrub it over his flesh until his pale skin turned pink.
He even had freckles. She ran her tongue over her teeth as they were revealed underneath the dirt and grime. Freckles. Of all things, the man had to be covered in tiny starlike dots.
And he still hadn’t noticed her. She ran a hand down her mouth. She could gawk at him all day, but it would take until nightfall for him to see her.
“Could be anyone sneaking up on you,” she called out.
He jumped, tripped on a stone, and fell deep into the water. He came up spluttering, his fists raised.
He looked like some kind of Sea God when he stood like that. Streams of water traveled down his chest and dripped from the impressive length of his beard. He radiated power and anger. Too bad the pink, sodden wings on his back ruined the sight.
