Astrea's Ghosts (Ash Princess fanfiction)

Chapter two: Yana

She felt the heat seeping through rock onto the soles of her bare feet. She began to run. Chest heaving, feet pounding over black sand and crags, leaping over the little rivers of magma that cross her path. And running on and on and on, up the steep slope of the volcano, to the mouth. Yana crawled on top of a smoking boulder and gazed down at the view. She was at the top of a giant volcano, surrounded by black sands, stretching right up the the sapphire waters of the ocean which surrounded her paradise island. In the distance, she could see another island with pine forest, but she couldn't reach it. Yana swung her legs over the edge and peered down into the mouth of the volcano. Lava bubbled and boiled, sloshing around vents, belching thick mushroom clouds of smoke. But she was never burned, though she felt the intense heat of fire's power. It never even hurt. Because she was dead, and this was her paradise of heaven.

She was in her element. Literally.

Getting onto one knee Yana balanced precariously on the brink of the volcano and set her hands down on either side of her. She reached deep within her, igniting a spark she had never known she had when she was alive. Jets of fire shot out from her hands, touching the ground and ripped through the rock, creating a ring of fire around the volcanoes crater. This was her favourite thing, this feeling of power that resided in her. The flames danced higher as she stood up, reflecting in her eyes. She clenched her fists. The crater exploded, spitting rock and magma, throwing Yana in the air like a geyser of flame and fire. She landed at the bottom of the mountain, crashing into the sand whooping and shouting with joy. Ash rained down around her as the eruption came to a close. Smoke dissolved into the air and all was calm. 

Yana sprawled out on the hot sand, relishing the heat and calm. She exhaled. 

I am powerful. But I am in control.

Slowly, she closed her eyes and let herself fall into the clouds above Astrea, where she could she Astrea. Far below her, she watched as her Mother and Father sat on the veranda, alone, watching the sunset in each other's arms. She smiled, glad that they were at peace with each other at last. She accepted Søren now. Her Father. In the After, all her problems seemed to vanish like smoke. It felt good. She felt good.

And she had no regrets.

 But then her eyes flew open. 

She felt something coil around her soul. 

But there was nothing there. 

It tightened. 

For the first time in all her death, she felt pure, raw fear. 

The feeling lodged its hooks into her heart.

 Then it was pulling at her, dragging her into the darkness. 

And then she was falling.