Intrigue

Chapter 13: Wicked Game

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The art of creating living creatures from elements was only discovered a couple years ago-it's a fairly new, convoluted technique that takes many years to pull off once, much less master it completely. When mastered however, a bond is formed with the living creature that best reflects the Elemental's soul. Even so, only one in the five people throughout the world in every generation finds a bond, for reasons that we still don't understand.

-Opal Ingrid, Ways of the Elementals published in 2001, Chapter 37: The Living Dead

Chapter 13: Wicked Game

The first thing Lana was aware of when she awoke was the hollow ache right where her heart should've been.

She was gone. Fiammetta really was gone.

Her first Craft was simple. It was a blob of fire that moved when she directed it to move. It was generic, easily destroyed, but she had loved it more than she ever loved anything else.

After all, it was all that stood between her and the insanity that threatened to take over her.

Over time, as Lana's potential grew and developed further, the blob grew more distinct features. A tendril of fire there, a different colored line here.

Before long, the blob had transformed into a fierce dragon that Lana loved more than anything else in the world.

And Fiammetta loved her more than anything else in the world.

A bond between a Craft and an Elemental was very rare. First of all, only an estimated five in the entire world was able to Craft-at least, in official records. Secondly, only one of those estimated five formed a bond, but even then, that bond was nothing compared to the one between Lana and Fiammetta.

They understood each other as if they were one and the same. If Lana were in trouble, Fiammetta would manifest from her potential without Lana even having to ask. When Fiammetta was close to being destroyed, Lana would always force her back, even at the cost of losing the Dance.

They never appreciated such a precious bond. It was only sentimental trash that would get in the way of Lana's path of victory. The bond interfered with Lana's logic, messed with her mind.

They made it no secret that they wanted Fiammetta gone.

The hollowness increased and Lana exhaled sharply, gingerly pushing herself up in a sitting position. She wasn't that worried about her physical condition-it was obvious that Reed hadn't touched a single hair on her head.

In fact, she wasn't worried at all.

Fiammetta was gone. That was a fact of life.

And like he had always told her, she had to move on.

Pushing away the ache inside her, Lana slipped out from under the bed covers. Smoothing out the covers, she ran her fingers through her hair and, after tapping into the earth to see if there was anybody around, ran her fingers over her face, drawing healing water over the pores of her skin.

She hated it when people knew she was crying.

Taking another deep breath, Lana walked out of the infirmary, glancing out of the windows as she did so. She was probably on the second floor of the Great Hall, considering that the windows had a breathtaking view of the courtyard, which blended into the forest.