The Last Sídhe

1 - Fire and Foam

A torrent of wind swept in from the sea, bringing with it the smell of salt and a thin, cool mist. I tipped my head back, tall grass lashing against my legs and the hem of my dress, tiny flecks of water whipping across my cheeks. Far below, I heard water crashing into the base of the cliff, drawing back with a low rumble, slamming back into the stone in a cascade of fury and foam. The breath of the ocean, my mother used to call it.

If I took the few steps to the ledge before me, I could have seen the waves for myself. Swung my legs out over the drop. I hesitated, the wind snatching at my braided hair, listening to the rustle of grass and the roar of the sea.

Reason was what finally turned me away. I glanced at the cattle grazing behind me, rubbing the back of my neck with one hand. I was supposed to be making sure they didn't trip and plummet down the cliff, not fall off myself.

Besides, it wasn't the sea that I was tied to. I lifted my eyes to the sky, searching. A thick coat of clouds had drifted in, grey and dull, but I could still feel fire beyond. Its heat hung thick in the summer air; the warmth it had given to the grass and the trees still lived within the plants. The sun was everywhere, and it was more than easy enough to reach out and grasp it.

My blood warmed; a soft hum slid through my bones. I lifted my hand, allowing the heated energy to break free in the form of orange-gold fire. The flames twisted at my command, winding around my wrist and fingers in thin, flickering bands of light.

I smiled, brushing my hand across the grass next to me. My fire skipped across the blades freely, not so much as singing them. This was what I showed to those who were afraid of my abilities: that fire wasn't just a tool of destruction, and I would never use it as such against them. Flames gave life—they chased away the freezing claws of winter, cooked our food, provided light in the darkest nights. That was the gift I held.

A sharp chill cut off my thoughts. I jerked my head up, my smile slipping away. The cattle had retreated across the field, nervously stamping at the turf; I was left alone, the steep cliff behind me and a few clusters of dark trees to my right.

Something was wrong.

I stood—slowly, slowly—and peered into the trees. My fire rose on instinct, wrapping itself tightly around my forearms. If I needed to, I could fling it outwards and tug on the sun's energy above to increase their heat to a deadly degree.

A nervous grin tugged at my lips. I'd never claimed that my fire couldn't destroy. I wasn't a liar.

Something moved within the shadows the trees cast. I blinked; the shape solidified, resolving into the vague form of a hound. Darkness clung to its black fur in thick strands as it stepped forward. Even from a dozen metres, I could see a glint of red in its eyes.

I was dimly aware of the cattle breaking into a run, fleeing into the fields beyond. Cowards. A small, annoyed part of me started to whine: it would take me a long time to round them up again. The rest of my mind was a wee bit preoccupied with the creature stalking toward me, however, so I ignored it.

The hound halted a safe distance away, paused, began to pace a slow circle. Its jaws parted, revealing a flash of sharp teeth. I watched, morbidly fascinated by the clear strings of saliva dripping down its fangs.

Flames tugged at the back of my mind, feeding upon the hidden energy of the sun. I obliged their wordless request and whipped the fire outward, curling it around the hound. It scampered away, but not fast enough to entirely avoid the attack. My flames seared its side, leaving behind a gaping gash. Darkness fell from the creature as blood, curling across the grass in wisps of shadow.

With a sharp snarl, the hound shook itself off and lunged. It was too fast, too sudden, and I stumbled. The beast seemed to materialise at my side, gleaming claws extended. Agony ripped through my leg, so sudden and terrible I could taste it upon my tongue. And then again, and again. Something dragged me down; I hit the ground hard, barely able to hear myself screaming.