Blumen Fire

Chapter 2 *** (OLIVER'S POV)

The bright rays of sunlight streamed through his window as a boy of seventeen stood from his bed, sliding from under the thick blue covers of his bed. He parted the silver curtains that framed his window, feeling the full hum of the sun's warm energy flow over him.

Downstairs, Oliver hummed a small tune he had heard countless times from his mother as he stepped into the kitchen, smiling at the blue-toned sky outside his back door. He stroked the orange fur ball that sauntered into the kitchen, murmuring good morning to his cat, Mochi.

The perfect morning was shattered as he heard the unmistakable shouts of his revolting uncle. Oliver darted to the door, sure he had heard it from there. His uncle sometimes went outside. He pushed the door open and scanned his backyard, feeling his stomach drop with his jaw as he saw the shed.

In the dimly lit doorway stood a girl his age, her eyes burning in the sunlight, her dark locks of hair flowing right to her hips. She held a dagger, a sharp curved blade. The rays of the sun bounced off the tip of the dainty blade, sending millions of sparkles like stars.

And behind her...was another girl.

She looked years younger...two, maybe. Her pale face held an expression of terror, her waves of chestnut brown hair spilling over her shoulders like a waterfall, but her eyes...her eyes were green and purple, colors beautiful he hadn't seen in a long time, and despite the way she looked fearful, her eyes glimmered with sparkles promising a new opportunity. His heart leaped as her eyes met his, and they locked for an instant.

That was when he noticed the corpse of his uncle on the ground.

Before he could get a single word out, the dark-haired girl lunged for him, and he felt the impact as he fell to the ground, barely registering the pain before she was onto him, baring the same dagger that probably killed his father.

The beautiful girl—the one with locks of brown hair—cried, in a voice melodic and probably supposed to be lovely, only burdened with pain–

"Eila, stop!"

It was Eila who was on him now, holding that dagger. Probably the murderer of his uncle.

"My name is Eila Hofferson. Perhaps you heard me telling that to the revolting man behind us. If you want the same fate, be my guest. You'll be doing me a favor." Her voice was as sly as a snake's, deadly as the blade.

Oliver sucked in a deep breath. "My name is Oliver Sencen. I am seventeen years old and I live at this house with my mother and my uncle." he held a shaking hand to the corpse. "He's the man you just killed."

Eila didn't care. "Your mother."

"She's at the store?" Oliver tried, then let out a huffy breath, shaking his head. "I won't try to lie. She's in Denver for a business trip of hers. She'll be back in three days."

The girl behind Eila spoke up, her voice leaking some of its fear. "What's Denver?"

"It's a city further south, in the United States," Oliver jumped in, wanting to impress her–then wanted to slap his forehead. What was he doing? He smiled a little, and she cocked her head.

Eila broke the moment by whipping the dagger closer to him. Oliver flinched, but didn't move. "Did you see anything this morning?" she breathed.

Millions of lies flew through his head. But he couldn't say any of them. "I saw...a beautiful girl and a deadly one."

He peeked behind Eila and saw the other girl's face, as red as a tomato.

Eila, meanwhile, was cringing the world out. "What did you hear?" she snapped.

Oliver hesitated. "A threat and a beautiful voice."

This time, he saw the other girl smile back, her face red as she tried not to laugh. But his smile faded when he saw Eila's dangerous face. He took a deep breath. No matter what, he would never forget this day.