Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
A wall of pure flame shoots straight up into the sky, and the release is incredible. The fire coursing through me feels like a resurrection of my soul. It’s as if failing to use my magic year after year created an ever-growing pressure inside me, and over time, the force gradually crushed my bones and organs without me knowing, like a lobster slowly boiled to death.
My flames spread at an alarming rate, racing across the sand in both directions to create a barrier separating Olive and I from the others. Faint screams ring out, though it’s hard to hear over the crackling roar.
Olive chokes and hacking to clear her mouth and throat. I somehow manage to free her from the sand prison and drag her into the ocean. Cupping water, I help her rinse out her mouth until she stops gasping.
All the while, the magic rushes from me. My fire takes on a life of its own. When I turn back, the flames lick even higher, stretching taller than three full grown dragons stacked one atop the other. I know I should panic, but the sight mesmerizes me. By Ziva, those flames. They’re so beautiful. And unusual. The vibrant red-orange colors at the top gradually melt into purples and blues.
As I watch the inferno dance through the air, the past flashes through my head.
Shrieks of agony. The acrid scent of scorching flesh. Horses screaming.
A feeling of utter helplessness.
Behind me, someone calls out my name. Desperation laces the feminine voice. Olive.
As if I’m in a dream, I notice Olive grab my arm and point. Flames barrel down the beach toward the forest.
Shouts carry from the other direction. Theo, Nick, and Abel race in our direction, but the heat must get too intense. Partway, the trio alters course and splash into the water. From the opposite side of the flame barrier, an agonized wail reaches us.
In my head, the events play out through a thick, mental fog, merging with the past and making it difficult to tell what’s real and what isn’t.
Horses shrieking. Straw burning. Screams. Sobs.
“Lark? Lark! Stop the fire!”
Cold water slaps my face, ripping me from my memories. Clarity returns and pummels me like a giant fist.
The fire. My fire. It blazes everywhere with no signs of dying. Heat scorches the air, and I’m pretty sure the reason my uniform clings to me like a second skin is sweat, not sea water. Another wail makes me gasp.
Elijah, Mark, Trevor. They’re trapped by my fire. They’re going to die.
No. My fire is killing them.
I try to reel in my magic. Again and again and again. With each failed attempt, fear rises. Eventually, I shake my head, panting. It’s no use. “I can’t. It’s too strong. I don’t know how.”
Any lingering joy dissolves into panic. Horror clogs my throat and strangles my lungs.
Not again.
Olive’s voice. The screams. The rest of my flight unit, shouting at me. All the noises fade away as I stand rooted in place, a victim of my own helplessness, while two words beat a constant litany in my head.
Not again. Not again. Not again.
A deep, commanding voice cuts through the haze.
“Axton! What the fuck?”
When I blink, Instructor Thorne is standing before me. I stumble into him and clutch his shirt, babbling and sobbing. “I can’t do this. I don’t know how. It’s happening again. Make it stop. Make it st?—”
A hard shake rattles my teeth. The motion knocks me out of meltdown mode long enough to realize his face is only a hair’s breadth away.
His grip immediately softens, and one of his hands reaches up to cup my cheek. “Breathe, Lark. Slow down and breathe.”
More than anything, it’s his unexpected use of my first name that snaps me back to myself. For once, I follow his directions without arguing and concentrate on breathing.
While I inhale deeply, he faces the flames. Within seconds, a wall of ice surrounds my firestorm, containing the chaos I created.
Sweat sheens on his brow. “I can only contain it for so long. You’re too damn strong. You need to stop it.”
Under different circumstances, I’d revel in the admiration in his voice. Instead, fear rakes me with sharp claws.
I don’t want to be too strong. Too strong is bad. Too strong means people get hurt.
I inhale a gasping breath, trembling from the power thrumming in my veins. “What do I do? I don’t know how to stop it!”
A vision of three charred bodies materializes behind my eyes, and I whimper. Just because they were awful to me doesn’t mean I want them dead. If they die, their blood is on my hands.
Blood on my hands, again .
“Focus!” He spins me to face him, curling his hands around my upper arms. “If you can work through your fear of alicorns so quickly, I know you can conquer this. Picture the fire like it’s an extension of you.”
With a hard swallow, I shudder, closing my eyes and doing as he asks. I imagine the magic like it’s an extra limb. “Okay.”
“Good.” His fingers trail down my arms before he breaks contact. “Now rein it in.”
Somehow, I do just that. I imagine myself pulling in my magic like it’s a physical rope. When I open my eyes, I’ve regained control. At once, the flames contained within the icy barrier die down.
With a flick of his wrist, Thorne shatters the barrier and douses what remains of the blaze with his power.
He addresses Olive. “Are you all right?”
Eyes wide, she nods.
Relief sweeps over me, but it’s short-lived. I could have killed someone. Would have killed multiple someones if not for Thorne’s timely intervention.
My heart pounds in my ears as a wave of nausea causes me to sway.
Turning to Thorne to thank him, the words shrivel on my tongue. Instead of the concerned expression he wore a moment ago, his features radiate pure wrath. The air around him practically vibrates with suppressed rage. Even though I know it’s not aimed at me, a little frisson of alarm skates over my skin.
This is more furious than I’ve ever seen him. Given that he’s not Mr. Sunshine on a good day, I’m a little scared to watch this play out.
“Did you see that, Instructor Thorne? That bitch tried to kill us!” Mark wheezes and gestures wildly at his head. I wince. Someone clearly isn’t reading the room.
When I check out his head, I wince even harder. Pale circles of naked skin pepper his scalp where the fire singed off his hair. Flames also devoured the bottom right leg of his uniform trousers. I can’t tell if he suffered any serious burns beneath the ruined material, but I’m guessing not. Those types of wounds hurt too much to complain about jacked-up hair.
Elijah fared better. His hair and uniform appear to be intact.
Of the three of them, Trevor took the biggest hit. He’s curled up in the sand, writhing and moaning. Angry red blisters already cover his arms and hands.
Guilt pierces me at the sight of Trevor’s damaged skin. Elijah is right. I did that. My fire hurt him. But only because the three of them ambushed us. If Olive and I didn’t defend ourselves, there’s no telling how far they would have taken it. For all I know, we’d be dead.
Elijah gestures at him. “See what she did? She needs to be dealt with.”
Power radiates from Thorne. Millions of tiny sparkling ice crystals encase Mark’s hands and spread up his arms.
Thorne stalks toward him, eyes alight with anger. “The only ones who’ll be dealt with are you three assholes.” He spares a quick glance for Trevor and sighs. “Two for now, I suppose. Mortimer! Holte! Take this fledgling to the infirmary. Looks like he’ll require burn ointment.”
I startle. When did Helene get here? I twist my neck to find her and do another doubletake over her expression. The hate I expect to find directed at me is absent. In fact, for a single heartbeat as our eyes meet, I swear her face crumples with regret. Then she moves to assist Olive with Trevor, leaving me to question my own sanity.
Dragons fly. Water is wet. Helene hates me. That’s the natural order of things.
Once Thorne is certain Olive and Helene are following his orders, he resumes his threatening posture. “Where were we?”
Elijah bristles, and Mark’s jaw drops, but they remain silent.
Smart decision. If I were them, I might need a change of pants right about now.
Thorne’s voice seethes with barely contained malice. “Care to explain what happened?”
Elijah shrugs. “We headed to the beach to unwind,” he narrows his eyes at Mark, sending him a silent message, “and Axton just decided to pull this little stunt out of nowhere.”
Thorne’s gaze shifts between the two remaining attackers, the smile that peels back his lips pure poison. “I was hoping you would lie.”
Ice encases their feet, rendering them in place. Mark opens his mouth, but Elijah shoots him another not-so-subtle warning glare.
Slower this time, the ice travels up their bodies, forming an ice cocoon from their boots to their knees.
“Let’s try this again.” Thorne lowers his hands. “Anyone care to talk now?”
Mark’s throat works on a swallow. Beads of sweat break out on the bald spots peeking through his patchy hair. “There’s nothing to say, sir.”
“Ah.” A wicked grin spreads across Thorne’s face. “And I was hoping you’d say that.”
The ice tombs climb higher, reaching their thighs in slow motion. Horror flashes across Mark’s face, and he starts to hyperventilate.
His lip curls into a snarl, and the hatred in his eyes chills me to my core, as if I’m the one whose body is encased in ice.
Thorne flicks his wrists, speeding up the torturous freezing process.
He’s enjoying this. And he’s doing this on my behalf. That fact does funny things to my insides.
There’s got to be something wrong with me.
The ice travels to each fledgling’s chest. Thorne’s long yawn gives off the impression that he finds slowly freezing people alive simple child’s play.
They have to be extremely uncomfortable, and a small part of me—a very small part—feels a little bit sorry for them.
“Well,” Thorne sends the ice trailing up to their shoulders, “you can tell me the truth or hang out here for a while. Your call.”
Sheer terror flits across Mark’s face. “Okay.” He shoots an apologetic look at Elijah. “I’ll…talk.”
Thorne’s mouth tilts up in a lazy smile. “Just when things were getting…interesting.”
Mark struggles to take a breath, teeth chattering when he speaks. “We were just trying to root out the traitor and make Holte tell us about the Kamorian.” Words tumble from his mouth as he rambles on about their ploy.
Elijah nods his agreement as his lips pale to a lovely shade of blue.
A pang of concern shoots through me. Thorne nailed it when he called these guys assholes, but that doesn’t mean they deserve to die. And that’s what’s going to happen if this interrogation continues much longer.
I step forward, laying a hand on Instructor Thorne’s arm. “You need to let them go. They’re going to get hypothermia.”
For several heartbeats, he remains silent. Just when I’m scared he’ll let these recruits freeze to death in front of me, he releases a beleaguered groan. “Must you always be such a killjoy? But fine, if you insist.” The ice blocks shatter, sending glittering shards flying. “You’re both out of chances. Pull a stunt like this again, and you won’t be so lucky next time.”
Nick and Theo return, along with a few other fledglings. While Thorne orders everyone around, telling them to take Elijah and Mark to the infirmary, Theo rushes up to me and grips my shoulders.
“You’re okay? I was worried about you for a while there.”
I manage a shaky smile. “Me too, but yeah, I’m okay.”
After giving me a once over, he whistles. “Damn. Who knew that all this time, you’ve been holding back that kind of power? And to think, I liked you even before I knew what a magical badass you were.”
Before I know what’s happening, he leans in, brushing his mouth over mine.
I harden into a statue as his lips press against mine. Nothing. Just like I thought, I feel nothing. No sparks. Not like I do with… him.
Swallowing hard, I step back and take a deep breath, preparing to let him down gently. “Theo…”
Movement registers in my peripheral vision.
Finished with the other fledglings, Sterling Thorne glares death at the spot where Theo’s hand still grips my arm.