The unlikely union of light and darkness.
"My soul is ruined; made of dead stars, and darkness. And yet, you managed to find light in my hollow heart. Beauty in my unholiness. You mended the fissures of my being. And for that, I shall worship you fo...
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Fire engulfed the edges of her vision. Sweltering warmth enveloped her body in a suffocating embrace. Fire, as Lilith knew it, was powerful, for it was under no sovereignty. It moved without constraint and bowed for no man. Fire had a mind of its own; a vicious hunger to consume everything in its path. Lilith's mother had taught her to fear it.
"It is the most treacherous element. No matter how skillful the caster might be, fire cannot be tamed," she had said, voice stern.
But, as Lilith kneeled by the fireplace, Diana's warning perished, and with it, the fear. Her blazing intrigue took over, and the witch found herself in a trance.
Tangerine swirls eddied across her field of vision; heat seeped into her skin and fogged her mind over with smoke, suffocating her rationale.
"Separo ignis," she whispered hazily, then took in a sharp breath and made a grab for the withering parchment. As she took it, the flames whirled and pulled together, rising to the throat of the fireplace and covering the opening in blinding light. The witch scrambled up to her feet and stepped back from the fire. She ignored the warm pulses spreading under her skin, caught her breath, and looked at the parchment Azriel had thrown.
The edges were crumbling and turning black; charcoal trickled down the length like rain and formed black puddles on the ivory plane. Past the smears, however, Lilith discerned a beak, a squared-tail, talons, and shaded feathers. The sketch was beautiful, yes, but Lilith frowned. She had expected something more incriminating. She had certainly not expected a drawing, much less of a crow.
Could there be a hidden meaning? She mused.
Lilith glanced at the clock. Minutes were ticking by and the hour was approaching eleven. It was too much a risk to study it now, for Avery would come out at any moment- his probing nature not far behind. Lilith decided, then, to keep the parchment and inspect it later in the privacy of her room, where not a question would be asked. Intently, she began to fold Azriel's sketch. But as her fingers worked, heat pricked at her nerves like needles; the pulses under her skin intensified, and sweat formed around her forehead.
Before Lilith could make sense of it, the edges went up in flames. She cried out and dropped the burning parchment to the ground. Despite her surprise, she quickly stomped on the sketch, dwindling the flames under her sole.
"Lilith?" The witch twisted her foot on the ground, pressing harder. "Are you alright?" Avery's voice came again.
Lilith stopped. Regardless of the surprise, sweat, and hot air stinging her throat, the witch nodded. "I'm alright." Slowly, she turned around. Avery stood by the entrance of the boy's dormitories, hands buried in his pockets and foot tapping eagerly on the floor. He didn't appear concerned, rather, he looked anxious. "Are you ready?"
