Ashes to Ashes | ✓

18 || Pawns

As soon as the words left her lips, regret drove a thorn into her heart. Nothing could change the look of uncertainty in his wide, ivy-green eyes. If she stared long enough, she was certain to find a spark of fear buried deep inside him—even if he tried to hide it, she knew his flame would betray him. She couldn't blame him; any weak flame would feel that way in the presence of the Bright Soul. Or, perhaps more accurately, any soul would feel that way.

He turned his face away from her, inhaling a deep sigh through his nose as he raked his fingers through his tangled, dirty blond hair. As his lips pressed into a thin line and his jaw tightened, she found her own body tensing in wait for his response.

"I see," he muttered.

"That's why I want your help. That's why I wanted to... to be free of the Core," she went on. Unwittingly, her gaze strayed to the bracelets around her wrists, both a kind of chain and a release. There was no use denying it any longer. She had already told him more than she ever planned to, and it was only getting harder to resist the yearning to tell him everything, to lay it all at his feet and let him decide what should be done. Maybe it was his weak flame, or maybe it was how he came back for her. He made her heart flutter, yes, but he also brought a sense of security, enveloping her in its shield, wrapping her in its warmth. All her life, she had been in a cage, poised so that passersby would stare, bow, or mock her. People had always twisted her gut, her lip curling in disgust at the thought of them.

But he was different. He was still there, clinging to her side, listening to her troubles, guiding her when she fell. The way he held her hand was gentle as if she was someone to treasure, not a thing to cast aside. The sound of her name on his lips came as soft as a summer breeze, gently caressing her cheek. Even the wound in his shoulder was a testament to his devotion, though she flinched as her gaze settled on it again.

Was it all because of his weak flame, because she made a request of his blank slate? Guilt bubbled to the surface. If it was all because of her foolishness, it was the least she could do to explain the whole truth to him. Swallowing hard, she raised her chin and steeled her resolve.

She lifted her wrists, sunlight gleaming off the polished gold. "When I was a kid, my identification was infused with a special substance we call emricona. It's a kind of magic-infused metal that lets one pass through the Core's barrier—however, my cuffs were crafted with more of this than usual in order to keep my curse at bay. Its effectiveness has worn down as my connection has gotten stronger. Sometimes, the Core leaks through, and I lose a little bit of myself." She bit her lip as hesitation cracked her firm resolve, so quickly cutting through what she had thought would last till the end of the conversation. In order to keep the anxious buzz of her nerves under wraps, she twisted the hem of her tunic. "The Ember Core has a will and, sometimes, it projects that will onto me. I didn't understand as a kid, so I named that will—the other persona, you could say—Cinere. Like an imaginary friend, I guess."

Felix kept silent. Under his watchful stare, she felt small and foolish, shrinking in on herself until her neck and shoulders ached. Shame burned her cheeks as her flame flickered defiantly. Her hand dropped to her side and she quickly turned away from him, unable to bear the weight of his piercing gaze any longer. Those viridescent eyes were empty of his flame, and yet they still burned with a vengeance that even the sun couldn't compete against.

"There never was a real Cinere," she muttered. "I was the one with you the whole time, but I took that name because she had such a presence that I could never have. People adore Cinere. People respect Cinere. People obey Cinere. Because, ultimately, Cinere is the Core. And I..." Sighing in frustration, she wrapped her arms around herself, leaning against the cold stone to glare at the ground so far below. The wind tore through her with its icy claws, and for once, she felt cold beneath its power. "I guess I was just her pawn. It was never my game; it was always the Core's. I've been the loser from the start. And now, it seems someone else has trumped even the Core."