His Challenge

The Things Love Makes Us Do

Sofia falls back in her seat, and as quickly as it had stopped, everything returns to motion. She hears the swooshing of cars, the clatter of shoes as people resume walking. She stares down at her closed fists, now too exhausted and shaken up to look directly at Kyro.

On the other side of the table, Kyro slouches in his chair and yawns, disappointed and now bored. Humans always turn into these mumbling, nonsensical beings at the revelation that Kyro isn't one of them, but he expected Sofia to be different. Instead, she, too, sits, her once fiery rage diminished and the strong confidence she had, staring into his eyes, throwing coffee at him, now dead. He shouldn't have expected any different, he supposes. After all, Sofia is still a human: weak.

Sofia tightens her fists, takes in a deep breath, and raises her head. She keeps it high, hoping Kyro doesn't notice the nervous shaking of her body or the tricking of sweat down her forehead. But of course, Kyro notices all; he sees her put her hands together to stop them from trembling, he sees the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she tries to calm herself, he sees the strength, pure determination, in her eyes as she stares into his.

So she is different.

Kyro fights back a gleeful smile, but eventually, it reaches his face.

"So do we have a deal?" he asks, and Sofia nods her head as her answer. "Then let's go."

                                                                                           ***

They stand in front of the Gate, Kyro clearly seeing the sparking coat that divides his world from hers. Their entire walk into the woods, Sofia was quiet, walking far enough behind Kyro that a conversation would be a strain but close enough that she wouldn't lose him. And during the silence, Kyro took time to think. He would force Sofia through the Gate, watch her catch fire as her mother did, fulfill his challenge. Morality wasn't so hard after all.

But he feels a certain way about letting her go. Never has he felt such an instantaneous connection with someone, human or demon. Letting her go, die, without allowing her to experience the euphoria of (falling off the edge and) losing sense of tangible reality, feels sinful. He wants to see her laugh again, eyes wide, and hear the broken, strained sound.

All good things must come to an end, he supposes; Sofia is certainly a very good thing, but he needs the throne, just so he never has to witness Kip's satisfaction ever again.

And so you can make your father proud. But Kyro pushes that thought out of his head.

So here they stand, Sofia oblivious to the deadly threshold in front of her, and Kyro signaling for her to enter.

"So you want me to just... walk over there?" she asks for the third time.

"Yes," Kyro repeats, waiting for the sight of his ember to take to flames, to brighten his day with the burning glow of her body.

Confused as ever, Sofia walks forward, and the Gate welcomes her with that same usual ripple of rocks hitting water. She enters and disappears.

Kyro waits, and waits some more, but no fire. No smoke. No stench of the burning of human flesh.

His ember didn't spark into a fire and instead vanished, as embers are always meant to do.

He follows behind her, an unusual sense of panic filling him. Had she really just crossed the Gate?

He opens his eyes, and he is back at the marketplace, the entire area full of constant movement and boisterous talk, as usual. But not too far in front of him, she stands, nothing of the ordinary.