Elemental Hunger

Chapter One

Gold sparks twirled in the air, putting on a show. They blinked and escaped the oven, shooting high above my head. I envied them. See, in Crylon, my life consisted of cooking, cooking, and more cooking.

Unless I could get chosen for a Council. Of course, to do that I'd have to masquerade as an Unmanifested, but that would be better than—

"Gabriella."

At the sound of the cook's voice, I pulled my attention from the flames and said, "You can go ahead. I can finish here." The chime had sounded ten minutes ago; the selection ceremony would begin soon. If the cook left, I could use my Element to get this job done blazing fast. He watched me; I stared steadily back.

"Just make sure you bank the fires well." His sausage-like fingers worked at the knot of his apron. He removed it, revealing pristine jeans underneath. Mine were similarly protected; at least I wouldn't have to change before the ceremony.

If the cook would just go already. He seemed to take forever to turn and step into the night. When the darkness swallowed him, and his footsteps faded outside, I allowed myself a quick breath before turning to the task at hand.

Hunger gnawed at my stomach as I hurried to add wood to the long row of ovens in the kitchen.

The rest of the kitchen staff had already gone, which made my trips to the woodpile and back easier. If darting fifty feet out into wintery air, grabbing two logs that weighed more than I did, and sprinting back could be considered easy.

I oscillated from holy hot to holy cold and back again. The other oven workers complained about the unbearable heat. I didn't mind it so much. I even paused to inhale the savory smoke and admire the bark-crackling and sap-popping.

Such a friendly sound. I almost smiled—the loud banging of footsteps brought me to my senses. The cook stood in the doorway, watching me with an edge in his eyes I couldn't decipher and holding an armful of wood. I gave him a grateful half-smile, ducked my head, and continued my work. No sense in attracting more attention to myself—especially since I'd never interacted with the head cook more than necessary, and I never showed any interest in the fires beyond making sure they stayed lit.

But I was.

My little secret: I adored everything about fire. That was actually a big secret—one I had to keep no matter what.

In the second to last oven, a roll had fallen from the bakeware sometime during dinner service. Small and mostly black, the bread should've been thrown away. My mouth watered, desperate for anything besides air and saliva. I stuffed the roll in my apron pocket.

Please don't start yet, please don't start yet. I'd promised myself I'd attend the ceremony, because this mid-winter Council selection signaled the end of my eligibility.

After tonight, I'd have to pick an educational track—if I didn't get selected for a Council. My breath came faster as I ran to the woodpile one more time, imagining what it would be like if I were the one up on the stage. The one choosing a Council. The way Firemakers did.

I should've been eating with the Elementals, not serving them. I should've been up there with Jarvis and the rest of the Firemakers.

Instead, I was here, tossing the last log into the end oven and watching the cook disappear into the night.

I swallowed back the taste of bitterness and counted. 1, 2, 3.... The cook didn't return. All lay still.

Satisfied I was alone in the kitchen, I urged my power into smoke and then flame. I started at the first oven and poured, poured fire from my hands. Ten seconds later, a job that took others twenty minutes was finished.