Rising Ashes

SAHLO FOLINA

Aimee’s eyes fluttered open, her head throbbing with the remnants of the intense migraine Nico had inflicted on her. As her vision cleared, she realized she was no longer on the battlefield. Instead, she found herself lying on the cold, stone floor of a small holding cell. The air was damp and musty, and the oppressive chill of the room bit into her skin.

She pushed herself up, her limbs shaky and weak. The walls were a dull, lifeless grey, barely illuminated by the dim, flickering of a neon light just outside the bars. A wave of dread washed over her as her senses returned, and she became fully aware of her surroundings.

Her heart sank when she noticed two figures standing just beyond the iron bars. Nills and Nico, their faces hidden beneath the hoods of their dark red robes, loomed like specters in the half-light. She could see their outlines clearly now, and despite the dimness of the room, she felt their presence—cold, calculating, and dangerous.

Nills spoke first, his voice smooth but devoid of warmth. "Awake, are we?"

Aimee swallowed, her mouth dry. She tried to stand but found herself too weak, her body betraying her with every movement.

"You must be confused," Nico said, stepping closer to the bars. His voice dripped with satisfaction. "You didn’t think we’d leave you to wander outside our control forever, did you?"

Aimee’s mind raced, still trying to piece together how she’d ended up here. She remembered Nico choking her, his powers overwhelming her senses. Then the sensation of being lifted onto his horse.

“What do you want with me?” she rasped, glaring at the two figures.

Nico let out a low chuckle, his hood shifting slightly as he tilted his head. "What I’ve always wanted. Control. You were always special, Aimee, even before you realized it yourself. You’re not just another rebel like Clancy. You’re an exception. Like him... but more valuable."

Nills nodded in agreement, his voice dripping with condescension. "You see, Aimee, there was always something in you. A potential we couldn’t ignore. That’s why you were allowed to stay so long on the outskirts. We were waiting for this... development. You were destined to serve Dema, whether you like it or not."

Aimee’s breath hitched. “That’s why you came after Clancy that night?”

Nico’s smirk widened beneath his hood. "Oh, Clancy was a distraction, a means to an end. The real objective that night was you, Aimee. We needed you to embrace your power and to see your place in Dema. If it hadn’t been for Clancy’s... attachment, you might’ve willingly sacrificed yourself, a glorious Gone." His voice grew darker. "But Clancy complicated things. He always does."

Aimee’s stomach twisted as the full weight of Nico’s words settled in. They had planned everything—her powers, her presence in the rebellion, even that night when Clancy had saved her. It was all to push her into their hands.

"You think you can control me?" she spat, forcing herself to stand, gripping the bars for support. "I’ll never be your puppet."

Nills’ laugh was soft, almost pitying. "You say that now, but we have ways of convincing even the most stubborn."

Nico stepped forward, his presence looming just inches from the bars. His eyes, hidden beneath the shadow of his hood, seemed to burn into her. "Don’t worry, Aimee. You’ll learn your place soon enough. We’ll make sure of it."

As the Bishops turned and walked away, their robes trailing ominously behind them, Aimee’s body tensed, her hands still gripping the cold iron bars. She could feel the weight of their control pressing down on her, suffocating her hope. Her heart raced, but she refused to let them see her fear.