The Flickering Flame

by Alyce Caswell

  The Firine remained visible, in her human form; hundreds of mortals could see what she was doing, but not one of them owned a vidcam.

  But that wasn’t important. Not anymore.

  If they hadn’t known she was there, they would have abandoned all they’d worked so hard to build, completely unaware that she’d given them a chance. Their fear became determination. With a goddess on their side, they might just win.

  FINARA.

  Head pounding, Finara fell to her knees. Flames raced over her on their way towards the city, a heated caress that made her miss the warmth of her mortal lover. Slapping her hands to her ears, she demanded, ‘What! What is you want from me?’

  To listen, the Ine said. To a father, not a god.

  ‘It’s not like you’re giving me a choice!’

  You do not have the time to argue with me, daughter.

  ‘Oh, really?’ Finara said, sneering. ‘Eternity not enough time all of a sudden, huh?’

  LISTEN! he roared.

  She listened. But she made sure her father felt her fury.

  The Ine’s voice lost some volume, but not its sense of urgency. It does not matter if the mortal had a part to play in my grand design. You love her.

  Finara’s laugh rasped out of her throat, even though the smoke shouldn’t have bothered her. ‘So what? She’s not into the whole eternity thing. It’s too long for her. Stark, a week is too long for her.’

  I desire to see all of my children achieve happiness, be they mortal or of my blood.

  ‘She’s in so much pain because of what happened — she can’t bear it!’ Finara snapped. ‘And you kept her alive, living with that, just so she could teach me a lesson! If that’s your definition of happiness, I’ll pass.’

  There is no more time. You must go. Now!

  A bar of white light slid down Finara’s form, throwing her halfway across the galaxy in an instant. Disoriented by her father’s method of teleportation, Finara wavered on her feet for a moment, then realised where she was — Grace’s hotel room. The bed was disturbed from their night together and the vidscreen was on, displaying a warning about an imminent eruption.

  But there was no sign of Grace.

  The techpad lying on the bed blinked repeatedly, demanding attention. Finara gave it. Once the device was in her hands, the screen lit up, revealing the message Grace had left for her.

  Finara,

  These past few days with you have been remarkable. But if I let what is between us grow, then you will ask for eternity from me. If we’d had more time together, more than a handful of days, perhaps eventually I might have been able to come to terms with it. But I can’t be sure of that. It would not be fair to you, to give you hope where there is none.

  I may not be able to read your mind and I don’t really know you that well, but I have seen a change in you — a change for the better — and I rejoice that I was the tool that implemented it.

  I am so sorry.

  It pains me that eternity is too long and a week is too short.

  Grace

  Finara vanished from the room before the techpad even hit the sheets.

  Lava was already surging down the slope, towards the mortal who was greeting it with arms spread, her face set and determined. At the last moment, Finara threw herself in front of Grace, her back to the river of fire, encasing the woman she loved with safety and fresh air.

  Grace’s eyes were filled with tears.

  Finara grabbed her shoulders, pinning her in place, and said roughly, ‘Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare. Not yet. Not until I’ve said my bit.’

  Grace nodded mutely.

  ‘I won’t offer eternity right now,’ Finara went on, ‘because even though I think I might already love you, we’ve only just met. I want to get to know you, the you who isn’t waiting to die. I want to know if we’re suited for living together, I want to know if we’re capable of making more out of our relationship, not just having hot, hot sex — and I mean that literally. We’ll have sex in a puddle of lava and you’ll love every minute of it. I’ll keep you safe. Stark, I just want you to be safe.’

  ‘But you will always want to offer me eternity,’ Grace pointed out.

  ‘If you don’t want it, fine,’ Finara blurted. ‘Just be with me until you die, and I mean die naturally because this is stupid.’

  ‘You don’t want to marry anyone.’

  Finara growled in frustration and dropped her hands to her sides, knotting them into fists. ‘You’re throwing that in my face now? I said that because I was upset, Ms Dense Mediaist. I was falling hard for you and you were still going to off yourself! Of course I wasn’t going to marry anyone if they weren’t you.’

  Grace blinked slowly. Her tears were now clustered on her eyelashes. ‘But if I never agree to become immortal…’

  ‘Then I will respect your starking choice,’ Finara said, scowling. ‘I’ll hate it, hate how I can’t stop you being so stubborn, but that’s you and I wouldn’t try to change that. You challenge me. You don’t put up with my shit. And I’m not asking for forever — I’m just asking for more than a few days. That good enough?’

  Grace’s lips answered her, delivering a fierce kiss that burned all the way into Finara’s abdomen, somehow hotter than the molten rock roaring down around them. The mortal’s thoughts were a turbulent mix of delight, disbelief — and excitement for what lay ahead.

  They embraced, then vanished inside a swirl of fire.

  • • •

  Fifteen Old Earth years later

  She was permanently frozen at forty.

  Grace peered into the mirror in that same poky hotel room on Arksaw. It had taken years for her to decide that she wanted to spend eternity with Finara, but she considered it a ludicrously short amount of time now that time was irrelevant. They were forever bound together, by a ceremony that had left them with scars on their hands instead of rings.

  These days Grace was an e-paper reporter, a famous one who had received a lot of attention from thousands of sponsors and billions of readers. Grace preferred her faceless method of disseminating information; no one could guess at her location because there were no images to draw clues from. According to the ageing but still popular mediaist Ton Tinel, her written word was strong, aroused feeling, and seemed so much more real than the breathy monologues that most mediaists delivered.

  Grace turned away from the mirror, instead drinking in the sight of her companion. Finara, still a youthful twenty-something in appearance, lay on the bed, naked, smoothing out the sheet beside her: an invitation.

  They were back at the hotel for their anniversary. Their daughter, Lirlia, who had been generated from merged DNA at a private clinic on Enoc, was currently in the care of Kuja and Fei. Lirlia was young and full of fire, both physically and mentally. And she was also infuriatingly stubborn — just like both of her mothers.

  ‘So what changed your mind in the end?’ Finara asked. ‘You know, about eternity and all that.’

  Grace eased her way onto the bed, sliding off her prosthesis as she did so. She had never bothered to replace it with one that looked more real. She didn’t care what anyone thought of it — to her it was a reminder, to always ensure the safety of her sources.

  Slowly, Grace removed her clothes, one piece a time, her smile growing as wicked as the one Finara was already sporting. ‘Perhaps I wanted to have mind-blowing sex until the end of time.’

  ‘Not the worst reason to marry me, I guess,’ Finara said with a snort. ‘You’re lucky I know what you’re really thinking.’

  Grace lowered her lips to Finara’s ankle and began kissing her way up a shivering calf. ‘I could tell you how much I love you. Or I could show you.’

  ‘You will do both, stark it!’

  Grace laughed and acquiesced. They made love all through the night, once again exploring each other, exhausting each other, and finding in each other the love and support they both needed, not only to be happy, but to continue to thrive and grow.<
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  Eternity was not so frightening when it was spent with someone you loved, Grace thought.

  And yes, the sex was pretty mind-blowing.

  About the Author

  Alyce Caswell lives in Sydney, Australia with zero cats and one husband. When she isn’t drinking her way through a giant pot of tea, Alyce is a keen reader and writer of science fiction and fantasy.

  You can contact her via e-mail (alycecaswell@outlook.com) or on Twitter (@alycecaswell).

  Also by Alyce Caswell

  The Galactic Pantheon Series

  The Tortured Wind

  The Twisted Vine

  The Flickering Flame*

  The Shifting Ice*

  The Whispering Grass*

  The Creeping Moss*

  *novella