Fire on Fire: A Koralie Story

Chapter Fifteen: Oralie

1912 words. We'll ignore how I almost had a schedule. Sorry for the long wait! I was figuring out plot and a lot of timing/pacing stuff (and also went on vacation hehe), but I'm back and I promise there's more. Enjoy :)

Oralie

 His scream was worse than the ones that haunted Oralie's nightmares.

Even when the Everblaze had burned his whole body, Kenric had gone quietly. The only cries she remembered were the ones she'd imagined at night, hugging a tiny pink mastodon as if that could bring him back.

But he screamed now, clutching his temples, beautiful features contorted in pain, and the sound rang in her ears. She wanted to shout his name, to grab him and shake him; she couldn't. He crumpled into her arms, motionless.

Her heart seized — was he dead? — and she fumbled for his wrist desperately.

Alive, she told herself, staring at her thumb pressed to his pulse. He's alive. Was he really? Thump. Thump. Thump. The colors, the sounds, the mid-morning sunlight, everything was too saturated, too frozen, like a fever dream.

The inshakrin had collapsed too, and Bronte caught him before he hit the ground.

What happened? she'd asked, hands shaking as she pulled Kenric's limp body closer to her, closer than she could possibly hold him. She looked at Kenric as if he could answer, but his eyes remained closed. His chapped lips were parted, releasing soft puffs of air with each breath.

I don't know, was Bronte's only answer.

But she should've known. Every time Kenric looked at her, smiled at her, teased her, she should've realized. She was only going to lose him again. And this time, she would not be able to pick herself back up.

Elwin arrived within moments of Bronte's hail and set to work quickly, flashing a dizzying array of colorful lights around Kenric. Green. Blue. Purple. Orange. They glowed ominously against his skin.

Sleeping. He was just sleeping. He'd wake up soon.

Oralie had turned away, staring instead at the coffee table in the center of the living room. The files that were once scattered across its surface and piled onto the floor sat in a perfect arrangement of stacked rectangles.

She was usually particular about placement — all her teacups on top of their matching ceramic tea plate in one cabinet, all her books arranged on her shelves in alphabetical order of the author's last name. But when it came to Council assignments, so much occurred at once that she rarely had the time to keep up with it.

Kenric, on the other hand, cared little about much at all when it came to organization. Perhaps that was why he had so much time to keep his work and hers somewhat navigable.

The glass coffee table reflected pink, and Oralie had looked up to find the chandelier casting a light pink glow. She could've sworn it hadn't been pink when she'd walked in. Perhaps Kenric changed the light without her noticing. Of course he did.

He'll be okay, Elwin promised a hundred times, but he could only see what happened in Kenric's body. Not his mind.

Now, Kenric was lying in the guest bedroom near the back of the house. She wasn't sure why she had a guest bedroom. The castle was so big, perhaps the architects simply weren't sure what else to do. She wondered sometimes if, long ago, Councillors were far more open to the world than they were now. If they invited friends to stay the night or concerned citizens speak directly to them at their door rather than filing formal complaints.