The Broken Crystal

Chapter Twenty Five

Through bars, through lands, through hearts, through lives.

We walk like ghosts, just ghosts with eyes.

And we may fall down.

Death's deepest desire.

But burn, burn.

Our endless fire.

Crystallic souls, crystallic minds, crystallic hearts, crystallic eyes.

Too weak to last, too strong to faint.

They won't fall down.

Death's deepest desire.

So burn, burn.

Their endless fire.

Voices were rising higher than the flames as Nate, Jane and Charlotte marched through bars, through lands, through hearts, through lives. They were walking ghosts, just ghosts with eyes. Ghosts towering over their former friends. Ghosts dancing with the fire. They were one now. Wild, pure, free. But then came the other ghosts. Grins with bloody tongues and missing teeth. Eyeless hopes. All the previous flames that'd died alone, forgotten even by the sentimental wind. And their crystallic sous, crystallic minds, crystallic hearts, crystallic eyes were too weak to last, yet too strong to faint.

So were the tears on Dean's cheeks. The deadness in Ricky's eyes. The echo of an echo of a scream and the echo of an echo of a song.

They won't fall down.

Death's deepest desire.

So burn, burn.

Their endless fire.

Mouths were still open, their letters choking from all the smoke. The campers didn't dare break their perfectly formed circle. If they did, scary things could happen. Scary killers could show to do them all a favour and change everything so that they, too, could dance with the flames.

So burn, burn.

Their endless fire.

Dean closed his lips and opened his eyes.

Crystal counted the particles in the air.

Ricky practiced his trademark art of being Ricky.

Haven's eyes stared down the fire.

Xavier covered his words and worries with a single hand.

Wilma kept glancing at Blake.

Blake kept glancing at Wilma.

Mars could pass of as the flame's twin.

Evanna had always been wondering about the skylights.

She saw them play by the waterfall. For the longest of time, she'd been suspecting them of collecting fallen stars. Her theory was that, once the skylights got their hands on the night-lanterns, they would feed them to their children so they, too, could glow in the dark. Be pure. Resurrect those who were still living. Lead way for the dead.

Quickly, Evanna called a smile to her face. The half-mouthed one. Perfect for adventures. But this time, there was nothing easy, nothing so delightfully raw about it. A clenching feeling erupted in her gut as she realized yet again how less of an adrenaline-seeker she'd become since her stay at the institution. Even with this perfect opportunity, not one part of her imagined that the silvery lights she could see in between the trees were the murderer's axe. No, they seemed rather like another skylights' meal to her.