The Project

Cleansing Fire

-Arista's POV-

I hang here, held up by the chains. My anger may have drained for the time being, but I feel it pooling up and boiling in my core, preparing to erupt again at some point soon. Suddenly, I feel a splitting pain in my head, shooting back from my eyes as the door to my cell swings open and blinds me with a grey light that fills the room. I refuse to turn my head away from it, and squint into the glare as a shadow falls across me. It's the wielder, in all his sullen glory. I don't say anything, I want him to speak first. I also want to beat him into a pulp, but that may have to wait a bit longer.

He stands in front of me, his hands in the pockets of his black pants, legs a shoulder width apart. The silence is deafening, and I feel the urge to scream at him more rising up in my throat, and with great effort I choke it back down. Besides, I think this sadistic prick probably enjoys it, which is all the more reason for me to be mute.

His eyes coolly skim my face, the sweat and dirt that coats it probably giving him great satisfaction, then my bare arms covered in blood and more grime. The blood came from when I was swinging around a short while ago and the IV was forced to swing with me, even though I was hoping I could rip it out while I was flinging my body around. My clothes are torn, my pants ripped to the knee where they had to fit the shackles around my feet and calves, and my sleeves fully ripped off.

He strides towards me abruptly, and with a fluid movement removes a knife from his pants pocket and casually glides it across my throat. My blood turns cold as the steel blade slips across my jugular vein, and I realize he could slit my neck and leave me to bleed out here, chained to this wall. The knife trails farther down, causing chills to sweep my body at the feeling of the cool metal and I involuntarily shiver. It catches the neckline of my shirt, directly above my collar bone, and he nicks the material of it gently, proving the blade is just as sharp as I thought it would be. His dark blue, murky eyes center on mine, and the moment stretches on for far too long, as his eyes only serve to remind me of his father's.

-Gael's POV-

Her eyes are pure green, and brimming with spite.

If she was out of these chains right now, she'd try to kill you.

I almost want to release the chains, just to see how much of a fight she'd give. Questions swirl through my brain, as I maintain eye contact with her.

Why are you here. Did my father send you? Why did he send you, or do you even know?

Killing her now would solve the problem, unless that is exactly what my father wants.

Does he really want me to kill one of his own disciples? I know he has no qualms about it, but this is a fire wielder. And he holds them as a precious commodity, so why would he send what is potentially the only one in his jurisdiction to this hellhole?

I hear his laugh filling my head, causing me to grit my teeth. I notice a quiet choking groan and realize I have slowly been pressing my blade into the base of her neck, and a small rivulet of blood is now oozing down into her shirt. I withdraw the knife, and watch the red stream contrast the pale skin of her throat, watching as it slips down through the dirt on her flesh and mingle before vanishing into the black color of her clothes. There is still no fear in her eyes, even as she bleeds.

-Arista's POV-

I grit my teeth has he finally pulls the knife from my neck, and he sighs in frustration.

I don't know what he's all worked up about, I'm the one trapped in this hellhole...

"Why did you come here..." He mutters, staring at the floor.

I blink, thinking through my reasoning. It all seems so foggy now in this moment. "I came here because...well...I had to know about you. I saw you use fire, and up till that moment I thought I was the only person that could.

He looks at me in disbelief, "And that is the only reason you're here?" He sneers, "To satisfy your curiosity? To feel special again?"

The hatred in his tone causes my spine to stiffen painfully, and my chin jerks up. "Maybe to know how easy it would be to defeat you if matters came to it."

He laughs a mirthless laugh and walks a few steps away, sizing me up. "As you are in this moment, I think I would win easily. Although, even at your best I think you still wouldn't be worth my time."

I lunge forward in my chains, feeling the sharp grinding of my bones as I push them from the positions they had settled into. Except this time, there is far more give, as the chains have released, and I drop heavily to the ground. My limbs are so numb I can't catch myself and I smack painfully into the cement floor, face first.

"You motherfu..." I growl as I try to peel myself off the grimy floor, and I hear him laugh a more genuine laugh this time. I lock my arms under myself and sling my head and torso away from the ground, just in time to see his foot coming straight for my head.

Too late to process, the kick sends me falling back to the floor, this time on my back. My head spins, this is the second hard hit to it in the past minute and I'm not enjoying the affects.

"So how easy do you think it would be to defeat me?" He says just behind my head, sardonically leaning against the wall to my left, his feet planted just behind my right shoulder. I say nothing, but flip my legs backwards with all the strength left in my core, letting my heels smash just into the front of his knees. Now I am kneeling with my back to him, my arms still completely useless but my legs begrudgingly granting me use of them. I hear a small guttural noise from behind me, and get kicked directly in the back of my head. 

Is my head just his favorite target or what?

This time I roll as I fall, landing on my side then finishing the move by laying on my back, then jumping to my feet in a spastic little maneuver as my arms are still being belligerent.

The oil that came loose when my shackles fell off makes the floor slick, and I slide a bit once on my feet, but I don't have much time to process this as he stands across from me, and there is only a brief pause before his fists come at me again, punctuating the moments between the frequent kicks he aims at my abdomen and legs, trying to throw my balance. All I can do is bend my back and feet as I try to avoid rather than engage, and I scan the room trying to figure out anything I can do to get the upper hand. He steps towards me and before I can truly think I fling my dead arms ahead of me, using the momentum of my torso, and scream as the pain of it truly hits me.

-Gael's POV-

Her scream is primal and full of rage, and suddenly fire pours from her fingertips, snaking up her arms, following the trails of oil still left on her skin, cascading down and swirling across the floor. It blends with the oil that spilled onto the floor, the oil that was preventing me from using my fire, and the blaze starts in a flash of heat and blinding light. I stagger back, trying to blink my vision back, when I notice the fire has taken on a different, living, shape.