Chapter 61: Skylor in the Cold and Misako in the Dream

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Skylor jolted awake at a sharp pain digging into her cheek. She jerked up, then voiced a disgusted snort and reached for the splinter wedged into her flesh. Trying to sleep on that single bare wooden board in the dingy cell was next to impossible. When she wasn't shivering head-to-toe from the frigid air, seeing returning images of her nightmares that made her blood run cold, or falling off the board, she was getting splinters into her skin and her clothes.

It didn't help that the lashed wounds on her back were burning and throbbing with every breath she took. She had tried to summon ice or something to soothe the pain, but her power was weak. She needed food, water, and real sleep.

Not to mention a warmer bed. She suppressed a groan and sat up. She wondered what time it was. It was impossible to tell down in the depths of the cell, with no window nor clock to give her an inkling of how much time was passing. Ice crept up and down the cobblestone walls of the narrow room she sat in. It was so dark, she could only see a dim, gray silhouette of her hands in front of her. She would have worried about rats and spiders, but there was no way any creature could survive down here for long—not in this murderous cold.

Her teeth were chattering, and feebly she wrapped her arms around herself, but it did little good. Of all her needs, the one she ached for the most was warmth. Her lips were chapped, her skin was cracked, her knuckles were bleeding, her tongue felt dry, and every movement made her lightheaded. There was no padding for the plank she lay on, no covers, not even a thin blanket; just that stupid wood board full of splinters.

If only I had a fire, at least...

At this thought, Skylor raised one hand in front of her, and concentrated on summoning heat. In the dark of the cell, she thought she saw her fingertips shimmer. This small effort was making her feel dizzy, but still she pushed for more—she needed more.

Come on...! She resisted the urge to lick her lips; that would make the dry and cracked flesh even worse.

Fwoom. A small flare of light blinded her for a second. Tentatively, a feeble flame danced slowly around the tips of her fingers. Skylor exhaled softly at the heat that warmed her face. It felt like someone's hands cupping her cheeks gently in their grasp, bringing along the scent of smoke and ash to her nose and making her eyes water. The fire was like heaven to her in the icy cell. She wished she could make it bigger and warm her entire body, but she could already feel herself weakening from the strain of sustaining this meek flame.

She sat there silently, listening to the little purr of the fire and watching the it dance on her hand. The wispy curls of flame and smoke shimmered and leapt, fierce and wild, braving the cold threatening to douse its life-giving light.

The reckless dance of the flame made her think of the one from whom she had gained this power from... In the fire hissing teasingly in her face, she caught glimpses of his alluring eyes, and saw his cocky smile beaming at her. She could almost hear him—hear his voice... and his footsteps walking across bare cobblestone. There, it was growing closer—perhaps he would come and—

Wait. That's not in my head.

She stiffened. There really were footsteps padding on the floor outside her cell—and they were getting louder. She flicked her fist and put out the flame, once more finding herself shrouded in utter darkness. She shivered in the cold, and sat up straighter in her seat. With abated breath, she listened to the sound of keys jangling, some an electronic beep, and watched the door slowly, cautiously swing open.

Dim firelight shone in from the corridor beyond, casting a dark silhouette across the short, masculine figure peering into the room. When her eyes had adjusted to the shift of light, Skylor scrutinized the visitor of her prison.

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