The Borealis Prophecy

Chapter Ten - Fire-Flies

Moments turned into hours, as I laid on my bed crying to myself alone in an extravagant but empty room.

I felt like setting fire to the curtains and maybe even the bedspread. It would have made me feel better.

I sat up and positioned myself on the edge of the bed wishing now that I could just fall asleep instead.

I heard the beautiful strumming of a guitar in the other room. A gentle hum as I sat on my bed covering my face in distraught. The acoustic instrument resounded over a song that was playing over his radio. His voice echoed through my room. Even as he sung quietly to himself, he had this amazing power that drew me in, helping me to forget why I was angry... Why he'd hurt me in the first place and through the resonance of his words and the flow of his song I could hear what he felt for me.

I could physically feel it.

I stepped out onto the small patio outside and slowly made my way to his room. I opened the sliding door quietly. He didn't hear me as I stepped inside. I could see a small glass cup filled half way with a dark brown drink that stung my nostrils the way alcohol can. An empty whisky bottle laid close to his bedside as he strummed a rhythm to his heartfelt song.

"Are you using your element to persuade me into forgiving you?" I walked into his room silently through the sliding doors on our shared balcony, "because that's considered cheating, Elijah."

I waited near the opening as the night's fluorescent light beamed down into his room. Shadows filled his room as he stood up and dropped the guitar he was holding at the sight of me. I felt my body's heat intensify but I closed my eyes, remembering that I wasn't wearing my suit but a pair of shorts and a tank top. I cooled the heat before it could strengthen once again.

"What are you doing here?" he asked me quietly as I closed the space between us, step by step.

As the music on the radio flooded his room, his hands rested in my hands as I guided them around my waist. Just as the chorus repeated, my hands reached around his neck as his eyes flashed through his blue eyes, the hints of violet that drove me wild.

And then we moved. Our bodies quietly and rhythmically swayed together. In this moment, I forgot why I was angry and I couldn't care less if he was engaged or if everyone around us was pretending he was. I just knew that I wanted to be with him, just for this one moment.

"I should have been honest with you," he whispered as I smelt the hint of whiskey on his lips, "I shouldn't even have brought you here... Anywhere but here."

"You're drunk," I said evenly, "Stop talking."

"Their making me do this, Aurora," he told me, "Or else they won't help you."

"We can talk about it another time, Elijah," I murmured, "I'm here now, stop talking."

I knew that he wasn't perfect, no one ever really was. You could be beautiful on the outside but sick and mundane on the inside. You could have a mean and hard exterior but sometimes those are the best people to befriend. And Elijah was something else. He was far from perfect, pressing all my buttons to outrage me and said all the wrong things. I could be mean and dry and had the potential to physically hurt him when experiencing immense emotion, but he was just the right amount of perfect for me, and I for him.

* * *

The next few weeks here were chaotic. I was asked to demonstrate some of my powers and I was humiliated when –again- my powers were out of control and functioning like a five-year-old girls. Instead of physical training, King Maxwell thought it would be best to appoint me his best tutor, the one who normally spent eight hours with his girls. Ric.