Phoenix

Letter

Back in her room, Ash took the quill and ink from the pocket of her robe and placed the bound notebook on the bedside table next to the matchbox and the dagger. Opening the cork stopper on the ink bottle, she dipped the tip of Herald's feather. Taking off the elastic binding on the notebook, she thought for a moment, letting the quill hover over the first page long enough for a small droplet to fall and stain the paper. She watched the mulberry stain bleed along the fibres, slow and stop in the shape of a heart.

With a shaking hand, she began to write. It was a child's form, learnt crudely from her brother, and not nearly as elegant as she'd imagined the words should be in such a fine book. But the essence of each stroke, each letter, each drag of quill on paper was filled with more emotion than she'd ever let herself feel before. And as the letters formed words, the words etched away at her defences until she was as cracked and crumbling as the concrete buildings of Ace.

Dearest Jai,

I miss you. I didn't think it was possible to miss someone so much it hurts. I keep expecting to hear your voice, to feel you sitting next to me in the dining hall, chewing with your mouth open as usual. I'm worried I didn't make the right decision, leaving you with Lydia. I hope you're healthy and safe. I couldn't forgive myself if you're not.

This place is strange. Everything about it is strange—from the sand to the sky. The people walk differently, don't watch their backs, speak freely to whoever they want. I don't think they mean me harm. Still, it's unnerving being in a place and not being scared of the people.

I'm being fed, and I sleep in comfort. I even get regular baths. Still, the fear lingers. I can't help thinking it's all too good to be true. I don't know what I did to deserve such goodness, so that I find myself questioning every turn, every act of kindness, every dark corner.

They say I've got special abilities with fire. They say with some training, I can learn to manipulate and wield it. They also say if I don't learn to wield it, I could be dangerous. That I could hurt people. That I won't be in complete control of my own mind.

What if I can't control my own mind? What if the darkness is too strong and I forget who I am? What if it takes hold and makes me do something terrible?

That's why I need you, Jai. You always knew what to say, what to do, how to make me calm. Perhaps that's why I want to find you and bring you back here. Because I'm selfish and I need you more than you ever needed me.

Her quill drew a line as her thoughts trailed off. When she returned her thoughts to the page, she found the words had blurred and mingled together. She rubbed her eyes, surprised to find she was crying. Great big teardrops fell from her eyes, darkening the coffee paper in patches. She heaved and held her breath.

Somehow, she managed to sign off her letter, though she knew she'd never send it.

I hope to see you again soon,

Ashalia

Then, she let the wracking sobs take over, let her eyes pour out the days, months, years of grief she'd kept bottled up—silently, of course, so no-one would ever hear. Eventually, her exhausted mind drifted off to sleep. But even then, her dreams were filled with sadness, of visions of her brother, the moments they'd spent finding comfort in each other's words and silences.

And of course, through it all, the clock kept ticking.

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