Fire Soul

Chapter 8

As morning dawned once again, Alina found herself tangled in the sheets, her mind restless and her body weary from a night of tossing and turning. With each passing moment, she hovered on the threshold between waking and sleeping, reluctant to greet the day's challenges. Nearby, Corliss perched on the edge of her bed, her presence as steadfast and immovable as a gargoyle guarding its ancient perch atop a cathedral spire. Her gaze fixed on Alina with an intensity that seemed to penetrate the haze of exhaustion. With soft murmurs, Corliss attempted to coax Alina from her restless slumber.

"Hey, are you awake?" she asked quietly. When she didn't get a response, she nudged Alina gently, her touch as light as the flutter of a butterfly's wing, yet filled with a sense of urgency.

Alina finally sat up, her movements slow and deliberate, as if emerging from a dream-filled fog. "Yeah, I'm awake," she muttered, her voice tinged with a hint of annoyance. Despite Alina's irritation, Corliss remained perched on the edge of the bed, her posture exuding an eager anticipation that seemed to hum with an undercurrent of excitement.

"So...tell me," Corliss prompted, her words carrying a gentle insistence as she leaned in closer, her eyes alight with curiosity. In her sleepy haze, Alina's brow creased in thought, her expression a portrait of confusion.

"Tell you what?" she mumbled, her voice strained with drowsiness, the remnants of dreams still clinging to her mind like cobwebs in an abandoned attic.

"Tell me how the training went. What was it like?" Corliss paused, her words tinged with an eager anticipation. "What is the freak like?" Alina understood the underlying curiosity in Corliss's tone. She should have anticipated that her friend was after the latest gossip.

Alina felt torn, her thoughts swirling like leaves caught in a tempest. She hadn't harbored any ill feelings toward Rylok after the training; in fact, she found herself quite drawn to him. His demeanor exuded a sense of emotional control that left her in awe, while his wisdom and dedication to his goals inspired a newfound respect within her. She admired his unwavering commitment and the sheer determination with which he pursued his beliefs. Yet, as she sat on her bed, grappling with the pressure to provide something gossip-worthy for Corliss, she struggled to find the right words. "He's unusual," she finally offered, her voice laced with uncertainty.

Corliss's face twisted in disappointment at Alina's response. "Unusual?" she echoed, her frustration evident as she leaned in closer, her eyes searching Alina's face for more substantial gossip. "In what way?" she pressed, her eagerness palpable as she awaited a more tantalizing description.

Alina's words spilled forth like a babbling brook in a forest glen, each syllable swirling with the remnants of her confusion. "I don't know," she began, her voice trailing off into uncertainty before finding its footing once more. "He took me to a meadow. It was a place like nothing I'd ever seen before," she continued, her tone awash with wonder as she recounted the scene. "The flowers were so pretty. I think it was a magical place. He said he grew up there." she mused, the memory painting her words with a vivid hue of enchantment. Alina could read from Corliss's expression that the tale wasn't juicy enough for her liking; she anticipated something more scandalous.

"Oh, and, we got there through a portal, like a big talking mirror," she added, her description veering into the fantastical with a touch of whimsy. "Then, Ila caught and butchered a deer and skinned it with her bare hands," she concluded.

"Who's Ila?" Corliss was confused. Alina could see the disappointment etched on her friend's face, So, she pressed on, her words flowing like a river carving its path through the landscape of their conversation. She spoke of Rylok's extraordinary abilities, recounting with a sense of awe how he wielded the power of illusion to shape reality itself. The mere thought of his ability to render himself invisible sparked a flicker of wonder in her eyes, the image of such a feat dancing like firelight in the recesses of her mind.