The Heart of The Sea

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

They didn't dare breathe.

Alessa was beginning to stir.

The door swung open and revealed a familiar face.

Yes, a familiar face, but deformed. Fangs hung from Signora Beatrice's mouth, almost as long as her smallest finger. Her faded blue jeans were singed, and her jacket was being consumed in the flames that raged outside.

She stood in the middle of the flames, her snakelike hair twisting about, revelling in the heat of the fire.

She sauntered into the room, disposing of her jacket and letting it burn in the flames as the blaze danced with enchanting vigour.

"I will make this simple." She spoke, her voice sweet and mellow and not harsh and raspy like you would expect of a monster.

Because that was what Beatrice had become.

"Hand over the rings, and I will leave the two, three of you alone."

Beatrice always had a sconce with fire in her theatre.

"Was I not heard?"

"We heard you." Aru said, rising from the floor and meeting Beatrice's saccharine stare with her glare.

Aiden was helping Alessa sit up, and was crushing a bunch of poppy seeds in a mortar and pestle he'd retrieved from his satchel.

Aru spared a moment to wonder why he had a mortar and pestle in his satchel.

"I'm not giving you my ring." She declared. The smoke from the fire was making her vision blur, and her head wasn't functioning as well as she'd like it to.

She felt something burn against her throat, hot with rage, cold with fondness.

"That wasn't a choice, girl. Take his ring, and hand yours over."

"But only one of us has a ring."

But was that true? Had she paid attention to Aiden's hands to truly see if there were a ring?

The heat grew, both outside the Firesafe and at her throat.

When she was young, perhaps around five, and had newly arrived in Amalfi, something had happened.

She didn't know how, but she knew she'd gotten a cut against her throat.

Her mother had healed it with...

With...

She couldn't remember.

She knew there was something, but when she searched she found nothing.

The heat was excruciating, burning her from inside and out, but Beatrice didn't seem to notice the pain Aru was in.

Beatrice had her eyes set on the half-butterfly-wing ring.

Aru hid her hand behind her.

She raised her palm to her throat, she felt the heat close off her thoughts, her airway.

With her palm flush against her throat, the burn faded, but silver glinted in her vision.

Something cold was touching her lips, her nose, her forehead.

Beatrice's eyes were wide. She paused from where she was, unable to step into the room for the past few minutes but because of what, exactly?

The smell of poppy seeds lingered in the air, with the crackle of lightning.

She brought her hand down.

A sword lay in her hand, glinting with a soothing light that was familiar but not familiar all at once.