Page 165 of Fires of the Forsaken
The light tore at her skin, creating shallow fissures that oozed blood. But she did not allow her power to dim as she searched through the tree branches.
I flattened myself to the ground, burying my nose into the soft soil, struggling to keep my breathing even and slow.
“But he had hercontained,”the first woman spat in disgust. “If he’dquestionedher, perhaps he would have found a weakness—”
“We do not yet know the connection between Seruf and her pet.” The Illuminator’s light seeped through the foliage. “Likely Byron thought freeing the girl would draw Seruf’s gaze away from Lamex. Perhaps he chose the right course of action, perhaps not. Time will tell. I only hope the girl is found before—”
The light pierced my bush, nearly blinding me. But my whimper of fear was suppressed by the Illuminator’s cry of triumph.
“She’s here!” The Illuminator tore through the spindly branches of the bush and grasped my tunic. She dragged me across the ground, ignoring me when I yelled and thrashed and pleaded.
“Cara!” She called to her companion. “Hurry!”
My skin prickled. Thesalivia—saliva evaporated from my tongue. “Don’t do this!” I begged. “Please!” The itch grew sharper. Burning. Maddening. As it always was before the flames emerged. “I don’t want to hurt—”
But it was too late.
As the other woman rushed forward, her sword raised over her head, my skin burst into flames. The more I writhed, desperate to distance myself from the women, the more incensed my fire became.
My flailing arms brushed a strand of the Illuminator’s dark hair. She howled as the flame latched on, spreading across her scalp and down her face. The other woman faltered, lowered her sword, and rushed to her companion’s aid.
“Leave me!” The Illuminator wailed. Her skin bubbled. The sulfuric scent of burnt hair filled the air. “Get thegirl!”
My fire roared across the ground,ravenisly—ravenouslydevouring everything in its path.
Including the two women.
In the aftermath, I sat beside their smoldering remains, shaking. The fire had long abandoned me, but it still pulsed through my veins. Impatiently awaiting its next meal.
* * *
Men and womencontinued to roam the woods, searching for me. The Firestarter, I’d been dubbed. The“girl wearing a Celestial’s garment.”
As my beautiful, shimmering tunic did not blend with the colors of the forest, I rid myself of it. Burying it, because I could not bring myself to destroy it.
It pained me to throw dirt over the beautiful fabric; Terrick’s gift to me. The only thing I had left of him.
I stared at the swaying trees encircling the tunic’s resting place. “Guard this for me. Please,” I beseeched them. “Keep its location hidden. Safe. I’ll come back for it one day.”
I memorized the clearing, and the path I took away from it, fully intending to return.
But I never did.
Of course, burying the tunic may have helped conceal me from my hunters, but it further exposed me to the elements. Thankfully, the weather remained mild; winter had not yet taken a firm hold of the land. But insects feasted on my blood and left painful welts all over my body. Some plants were coated in poisons that left me covered from head to toe in hives.
“Look at theleaves, lass,”the memory of Terrick’s voice gently chided.“The ones that shine or grow in clusters of three mean you harm.”
I’d forgotten much of his teachings. I’d been so young when we spent that summer in the woods. The memories had mostly faded, but they began to trickle back as I navigated the forest, desperately evading my captors.
Days passed in a slow trickle.
And my hunters were never far away.
“So you ‘eard the story from Charlie, who ‘eard it from Lola—who ‘appens to be a scandalmonger, mind,” One man called out as he stood beside the fallen log I’d burrowed myself into. Quite an ingenious hiding spot: the thick oak wood concealed me. I’d only be discovered if a person dropped to their hands and knees and peered into the shallow opening, which was partially submerged in a muddy puddle.
The unfortunate aspect of being so close to a pool of stagnant water were the bugs. Small insects hummedincessintly—incessantly around my ear. And this man, so intoxicated he could no longer speak without slurring, had decided the puddle was a perfect location to defecate. The putrid odor rising from his feces made my eyes tear.
His companion, too far away for me to hear clearly, responded.
