Elvirund | ✔️

Chapter Forty

"There must be more to Alchemy."

"Oh, but of course. For example."

Sibriel snapped his fingers and sparks danced at his fingertips. When he flicked his hand toward one lone log, it went up in flames. Then, not a split second later, a stream of water raced from his hand through the air and swiftly doused the flame.

"And then I can leave my signature, like this."

Slipping on a silk glove, he swirled one hand in the air and a small globe of blue light hovered in place. I reached out a hand and lightly touched the orb, and it dissolved into thin air.

"I have yet to discover how to do the more complicated things correctly. Of course there are theories but they're so complicated."

I had to suppress my laughter as his signature took shape. My mother, one day, after coming home from her job in the archives of the East Library, had discovered to her dismay that the three silver horse statues on our mantel had been stolen, with only a small blue orb of light sitting in the place of each one. Looking at his creation now, I knew exactly who he had been.

"Well met, Magic Thief. I've seen more prison time than you have, evidently."

He looked sharply at me before winking and putting a finger to his lips.

"Don't blow my cover."

"You could probably steal my words right from my mouth anyway."

"Knowing him that's not entirely false." The corner of Caphriel's mouth twitched slightly.

"Fair point," he conceded.

Was this what a normal life was? It was relaxing, full of laughter. It was fun. I took a deep breath and imprinted the shop's smell of herbs and old books into my mind. As I did a faint whiff of something much too familiar floated by. Burning flesh. Fire?

"Something's burning." I frowned.

"Just firewood."

"Then why do I smell burning buildings?"

Caphriel paled and made as if to leave. Eremiel shook her head, and she sat back down, hugging her knees to her chest. I then started to recognize the signs. It had been such a long time since the last, hadn't it? No, it had only been a couple days. Regardless, this was another memory.

Alethia stared in agonized horror as the charred remains of her father were Infused. As they spiraled into a sheen of white light, she stood alone and stiff by the spot. Her mother had refused to show, and Solla had been much too distraught to be there. Alethia's tears did nothing to quell the odor of burning buildings and flesh that still remained in her mind. The flowers and perfumes didn't last for long, and nobody dared give her any kind of potion for fear that she would spiral out of control again.

She stood silently for another moment before spinning on her heel and flying away. That's all she knew how to do. Fly away from her problems. Nobody had to know that she was glad the old man was dead. She would take revenge, of course, but not out of love. That dark angel would die like her father did. Slowly, painfully, permanently.

There was no comfort for her. Everyone she knew was either dying or leaving her to fend for herself. As she flew over the dull mauve colored Elvirian buildings she wondered if anyone would care when she died. She wondered if, should she fold her wings now and let herself fall to her death, anyone would bother. Most likely not. If she died it would be an easy enough matter replacing her. It wasn't as if she'd been a high value piece of society.