The Flame That Never Dies

Chapter 7, Jolie-

He doesn't deserve my compassion. He doesn't deserve my sympathy. He deserves anger. He deserves fury. How DARE he?

How dare he.

How dare he lie. How dare he kill. How dare he burn her?!

He was angry.

She had to remember that. Even though she didn't want to. Even though the only emotion she felt was pain, and he deserved to feel pain too.

Many people deserved many things, but that didn't make it right to hurt them.

It wasn't right, but she didn't want to listen. She wanted to hate. She wanted to rage. At least she was feeling something, as opposed to the white numbness she'd had for the past few months.

Don't let the anger fool you, Oralie had said. You're not angry-- you're sad. You saw the best in the world, only for it to betray you.

Betrayal. That's what this was. That's what Brant had done.

But she wasn't angry. He was the angry one.

She was better than him.

She just had to make him see that.

She had to.

Her mother's words echoed in her ears. You are so strong.

She was-- with Brant. And they would get through this together.

She glittered into Pleasant Peaks' rocky terrain. A trail wound around the mountainside, leading to a large home with three spires. It glittered with light, but no matter how hard you looked at the windows, you couldn't see inside.

It had always reminded Jolie faintly of Everglen-- albeit more modest. Pleasant Peaks was like a second home to her; her and Brant had spent many days together, looking down the cliffside at the ocean. They'd used to go on walks on the beach there.

Before...

Jolie shut down her memories. There was no use reliving them now.

Now...

He deserves my hate.

Jolie closed her eyes and clenched her fists. "No, he doesn't," she whispered, letting her voice drown the thought until she couldn't quite remember what it had been.

When she opened her eyes again, they were clear. No tears.

I am strong.

She walked up the path, to the towering golden door. Knocked. Held her breath. Held back sobs.

When Brant opened the door, he flashed her his smile. Ordinarily her heart would have fluttered, but now she couldn't stop thinking about the pale hand thrusting a burning torch into her own.

In a burst of wrath and confidence, Jolie stormed past him, through the foyer, and into the living room. The decor was simplistic; white couch, gold chairs, balefire sconces with blue flames burning in them.

Jolie spun to face Brant, feeling a similar fire fueling her movements. "How could you?!"

Brant cocked his head, playing stupid. "Jolie, what--"

"No! Don't say my name! Don't you dare say it-- not now-- not without an explanation! Why, Brant? We could've been happy! The Match doesn't--"

"So this is about the Match?" Brant snapped, voice cold now. He'd changed so fast. "Or is it more than that, Miss Ruewen?"

Jolie felt like she'd been slapped. "You know what this is about."

"Ah, so you've figured it out. I'll admit, you're smarter than I pegged you."

"What... Brant, this isn't you. Why are you saying things like that?"

He took a step closer, and she stepped away, wrist burning from a phantom pain. "The fire... it changes me. It calls me. It talks to me..." His eyes became distant, and Jolie knew.

Brant wasn't Talentless. He was a Pyrokinetic. A forbidden ability. The way he'd lit the torch hadn't been a trick or an illusion-- it had been real.

And she'd missed the warning signs.

"I can't imagine what that must be like for you," said Jolie slowly, trying to find a way out of this situation. "But why... why wouldn't you tell me?"

Brant closed his eyes. "It was my burden to bear."

"No! No, Brant, it was our burden! We're engaged-- about to start a life together! The pain you must be feeling-- must have felt all this time-- to be denied your Talent shouldn't be a secret you keep. It shouldn't be a secret you trust the Neverseen with! They're dangerous, Brant, more dangerous than you realize. I know you want to believe they're helping the Lost Cities, but that's all a lie! You're blinded by your hurt-- you see what you want to see. But they just want to take control!"

Brant's eyes flicked to hers, but they were cloudy, as if he was only half listening. "And what's wrong with control when the new rule will be better?"

Jolie's heart sank. She had to convince him.

Had to...

"Please, Brant!" she sobbed, lunging for his hand. "You have to leave the Neverseen!"

"NO!" he screamed, shaking her off and lighting his hands with neon yellow flames. "I've learned so much! I don't have to hide anymore! I'm so tired of hiding..." His voice cracked.

"I know you're angry! I'm angry too! I've been hurting so much these past months, knowing people I love don't approve of you-- they don't care that I love you too. Brant, whatever you and I are feeling, it shouldn't be felt alone. We can make it through this together!"

He wasn't listening. She could see that. He was too focused on the fire, too enamored by the illusion it created, the power it allowed him to wield.

"Brant..."

He ignored her, tilting his head toward the sky and lifting his hands. "I won't have to hide anymore... with the power Fintan taught me I can make anything..."

Jolie grabbed his arm. "Brant, no!"

But it was too late. A streak of white-yellow flames darted down his arm, catching his cape-- then the floor-- on fire and throwing the two apart.

Jolie hit the wall, crumpling to the ground. Her heart was stuttering with the realization of what had just happened. "Brant!" she yelled, but her voice dissolved into a fit of coughs. When she looked up, there was a wall of neon flames separating her from Brant and the door. "BRANT!"

She saw a flash of blue-- his shirt-- and scrambled for the section of fire that would get her closest to him. "BRANT!"

"Jolie!" She barely heard his voice over her hacks.

"Brant!" she cried, skidding backward as the fire grew. "Please! Help me!"

She hit the wall with her back and turned, clawing at the paint. "Brant, help! Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

The sweet-smelling smoke tore at her lungs, and she doubled over as a new coughing fit hit her. "HELP ME!" she sobbed, collapsing to the floor. She tried screaming, tried saying his name again, but she couldn't speak.

Breathing was impossible, and the pain...

She whimpered, unable to do much more, as the fire licked her shoes.

Brant! Please! I'm sorry-- I- I forgive you. Please-- help!

Her back arched as the heat scorched her clothes and skin. She tried to remember... her mom... dad...

Suddenly her vision was engulfed in white, and she started to cry.

Brant, I'm sorry! Please! Help me...

Brant...

I'm sorry!

I... forgive you...

THE END OF PART ONE