JC's Flash Fiction

Molten

Her skin sparkling as molten diamond under frozen limelight, her eyes were alight as thousands of white stars. Her glare struck the young man harder and sharper than the the strike of lightning; a single glance in her direction stung like a hive of wasps and felt like the smell of burning leaves.

Yet the young man could not look away.

He was always drawn back to the mysterious figure that stood in the darkest corner, the woman without a drop of royal blood coursing through her veins. He did not want her. With everything within him, the prince did not want that beauty, but she was not just powerful. She was power.

"Kaspian, bring your eyes from that cursed creature." His father whispered, and he could taste the ire in his eyes.

Kaspian wanted to listen with his entire body, he wanted to stop and promise his hand to one of the royal women, but another part of him wanted to argue with his entire soul. It, his magic, wanted to fight with his entire being, it wanted to die to have that dark woman with the eyes of magma.

Within his body, the sides of him fought with passion of ice and fire. His loyalty and his duty to his ancient, divine dynasty fought with the guns of glacier and the venom of verglas. The memory of his mother, the magic of his family coursed throughout this ancient power of fealty. Yet it was overpowered by the destructive touch of a newborn flame.

His soul, his magic, fought and stole with the daggers of duty to an unknown power, the explosions of fire decimating all he once knew. His mind was an oven and his heart a volcano. The frigidity of his past, his childhood, his legacy were burnt past ashes and into his past while the fire of a new future burned like the stars in that woman's eyes.

"Kaspian, you will not!" His father growled into his ear, snatching Kaspian's shoulder with an iron grip.

"Father, I must." The words slipped from Kaspian's mouth, his body no longer under his own control. The fire of her passion burned throughout his body. The flames ran throughout every vein within him. He was no longer his own, for he had lost; he lost to the curse, and he was now hers.

The prince's eyes were drawn back to the dark woman of fire. The dark woman of the future, who stood still in the corner, protected by the heat of the sun. The dark woman whose eyes transformed to stars underneath their lids, whose skin melted to lava upon her womanly frame. Her hair flew into the air, bright as the light of day, golden vermillion living as a fire of chaos meant to overcome the room of royal blood.

It was she, transformed in his own eyes, yet invisible to all except the cursed line of Kaspian's. It was she who won the battle of his fealty.