Finding Obsidian

38 - Youth

Once upon a time, two lost children were found in the city.

They were quite the pair. The girl, Hanna, was small. She was so small she could fit in the palm of a hand. The world belonged to her, if only so she could burn it to ash.

The boy, however, was big. Rian—that was his name—could crush mountains with a single snap. His touch was cool like water, and sometimes this turned his heart to ice.

They were magical. They had power far beyond their comprehension. But not on the world outside, they had nothing there; they had power over each other. 

They were bound, connected, unshakeable in their faith. They were united.

No one knew this, though. To everyone else, they were simply misbehaved, properly-proportioned kids. Only they knew what the other was really capable of. Only they knew of the storms that raged in their souls—one of flame, one of frost. 

That's what they thought, anyways.

Weird story so far, right? Don't worry, you'll get it. 

You may also be asking: why are these children friends? They're complete opposites. Forget that, they sound insane. It doesn't make sense that they're together. They don't make sense. 

Well, the truth was even they themselves didn't know how they'd grown so close. Their families had always been tied. Each parent had known the other set for ages, and that meant that their children were raised side by side. If the two hadn't chosen to like each other, their youth would have been very, very annoying.

*

"Annoying?" Rian interrupted, frowning. "Did we really write that?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes. You were mad at me for getting you grounded, so you added that part," I answered drily.

"Oh."

"Yeah. You were real petty. Now shush and let me continue."

*

If that explanation still wasn't enough for you, then just accept the fact that you're impossible to please. These are the characters in the story. Deal with it.

*

"You definitely wrote that part," Rian interjected.

"Of course I did. Backbone wasn't exactly your thing when we were kids."

"Shut it, Hanna."

"I will, if you'd just let me read the story." 

I waited for a response, but none came. Satisfied, I continued.

*

Now, these two children had a secret. They had a third friend, one who visited them only once every month. He called himself Youth. 

He'd sneak in through their window like Peter Pan, whispering to them in the night. They'd play until morning, away from the adults, free to do as they pleased. They would fly. 

Their Youth was precious to them. Very, very precious.

But he only stayed for a short amount of time. When morning came, when they looked around the room, hoping against hope that this day would be that the one that finally stuck, Youth was already long gone. 

The time that they had with their Youth was short, painfully short. So they cherished it, and they cherished each other.

*