A Flame Rekindled
I smiled as Seamus kindled the fire and invoked my name, the faith a gentle frisson down my back. He poured a shot of the local liquor onto the little embers, and they blazed high in a beautiful blossom of near-invisible flames.
I smiled as Seamus kindled the fire and invoked my name, the faith a gentle frisson down my back. He poured a shot of the local liquor onto the little embers, and they blazed high in a beautiful blossom of near-invisible flames.
I was not about to be caught between two alpha satyrs with their blood lusts up. I raised my hands and looked for a way to get out of here that ideally didn’t involve getting ankle-deep in intestines.
The air was so cold that my breath froze on my lips, and even the water coming out of my lungs turned chilly on my skin within a second. It was getting hard to keep my eyes open. My pretty silk wraps clung to my skin, frosted over, crackling with every breath and feeble movement.
A shimmer of unease settles in my stomach. Triton loves Atlantis, and it loves him. He must have tried to take control when Trix left and failed. Atlantis knows it’s rulers. The throne will only recognize Trix or I, without us, the Jewel of Atlantis withers. Triton was forced to watch as the home he loved fell into disrepair. Atlantis isn’t like Olympus or the Underworld. It’s alive.
The bag of Ankhiale’s ashes sat in the middle of the coals, protected with the finest alchemy a goddess could buy. It was even cool to the touch.
I ran my fingertips over the golden edge of the sundial, hesitating. I hadn’t seen my siblings in so long that even though I was terrified at what had just happened to me, I couldn’t bring myself to visit them.
Part of me hated myself for this weakness, mooning over a lover like someone out of a bad romance novel. Part of me thought the other part of me was an idiot.
“Tell me you didn’t touch the horn! For the love of Cernunnos, tell me you didn’t touch that damned thing!”
When you’re fightin’ for your life, lassie, that’s the last time to fight fair, I heard Hector telling me.
“Well, no one works for free, and Charon won’t pick up your souls without payment.” I reached behind my back for my spear, and they backed away.
“By the holy fires, Ankhiale, I will see you dead beneath the burning eyes of the Heavens or die myself in the attempt,” I swore.
“Why do you smell like burnt blood and sausage, love?” “Assassin dark elf in the elevator, and those stuffed pork trotters you like,” I said.
Something hit me from the side, hard enough to send me flying across the path and crashing into one of the giant mossy pine trees.
“Hes, darlin’ love, you’re not the flirtatious type, so what was that all about? You’re usually so regal and serene on nights like this.”
I sang of strength, and duty, and diligence, and loyalty, and love, then slipped the stoppers into the slender necks of the vials.