Page 36 of Grim and Oro (Lightlark)

I’d never done anything like that before, but this emotion, this hurt, this fury was blinding. I had buried it all down, and now ... now it was a tidal wave, surging.

“Why so angry, Oro?” Enya casually asked, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

My teeth gritted. “I’m not.”

Bitterness.

She just laughed. “Oh, you’re right. What a wrong assumption to make, as you take an ax to your father’s famous armor.

” It is famous. Famous for being unmarked, since he hasn’t lost a battle in decades.

Some might say it’s because he avoids facing his greatest opponents.

She pursed her lips. “You’re going to get in trouble. ”

Of course I was. That thought wasn’t enough to make me stop. So, I kept going.

Finally, Enya asked, “Can I help?”

She’s watched my father treat me like dirt our entire lives. I felt the heat of her anger as she joined me. As we both beat our weapons against the gold until the smooth, spotless metal was scratched, marred, and dented all over. A smile crawled across my face, seeing the result of our work.

It only took moments for it to wither. For that anger to dissipate. For it all to be replaced by guilt and fear.

Not fear for myself. For Enya. Had anyone seen her come down to the armory? Would she be cast from the castle?

Fear for my mother. Would she be blamed for my insolence?

I shouldn’t have done this. This rage—this anger ... look what it caused.

“Go,” I told Enya. “Go now, before someone sees you down here.” How long would it take the attendants to come investigate the sounds someone must have heard?

“No. I’m not leaving you,” she said. And the conviction in her eyes had mine burning.

Everyone else might have left you here, but I never will , that look said. I will never leave you. You are not alone .

It was that look—that loyalty—that had me pressing my hand against the metal and unleashing a skill I had discovered in pieces. One that I wasn’t sure was real until the gold poured from my fingers.

One by one, every scratch was covered by a new wave of sparkling gold. Every dent was mended. Enya watched, mouth parted, as I gilded the entire set of armor, piece by piece, until it was glowing and spotless.

Only when I was done did she say, in a whisper, “Nice trick.”

I smiled up at her. She smiled back.

Then, of course, she got to her feet, grabbed a sword, and said, “Now that we know you can fix anything we break, let’s have some fun.” She threw another blade at me.

We ran through the halls of the armory, dueling, laughing, playing. Hiding behind ancient suits of armor. Brandishing swords my father would have never let me touch. Clashing them together, then switching rooms and weapons.

“Here, make this gold,” Enya said, as we passed rows and rows of priceless relics. She threw a chalice behind her.

Midair, I made it gold. I caught it. Threw it back toward a pile.

“How about this?” She laughed as she threw a silver dagger at me. I turned it gold and caught it again.

We turned a corner. She fished around in her pockets. Threw up a piece of bread she must have kept from dinner. “This?”

It became golden bread. That delighted her.

She ran faster. I chased her through the mazes of the armory, her footsteps loud. Her laugh echoing.

I turned a corner—

And there he was. Albert. Here to investigate all the noise.

It happened so quickly.

This power spilled out of me, as if on instinct.

Before I could stop it, before I could fully process what was happening, his skin was rippling into gold. His eyes were widening. He let out a single gasp of pain.

And then, he went very still. Face twisted and frozen in agony.

The halls went deathly quiet.

“Fix it,” Enya said, gripping Albert as if she could peel the gold off. A sob rattled through her chest as she turned to me. “ Fix it .”

But I couldn’t. It was done.

“I killed him,” I whisper to no one. My guilt is a creature clawing through my chest, and I deserve it.

I wish I could trade my life for his. I would do anything— anything —to take it back. To give up these abilities forever.

Because only Enya knows the truth. I was angry that night. Those emotions ... they made it easy to access that power. It was an accident, but if I hadn’t been so upset, if I hadn’t been so hell-bent on taking it out on my father’s weapons, if I had never gone down to the armory ...

Underground, time becomes irrelevant. They drop water into the hole a few times, but not food.

I stop trying to find the fire. I realize I don’t want to. I’ll never be able to use it without remembering Albert’s face.

Soon, the darkness takes over.

Enya is furious.

“You were completely limp when they brought you in! I thought you were dead!” I don’t remember it aside from her screaming.

We’re outside in the woods, where we can speak freely. It’s been days since they fished me out of the hole.

They’re sending me back to the castle. My father will be furious. It will confirm every belief about me he already had.

It’s my mother I feel sorry for. I promised her I would try—and I didn’t. Not really.

Enya turns to me. She grips my hand. “It’s time, Oro.”

I avoid her gaze. “What if I don’t want to?”

She grips harder. “You don’t have a choice. This power lives inside of you. It will burn you from the inside out, if you don’t get it under control. You will burn with it.”

Before, I was worried about others. But in the hole, I had an idea. I could live far away. I could leave the castle. It’s not like my father wants me there anyway. “What if I don’t care?”

“ I do ,” she yells. I look at her. She’s never raised her voice at me before. She swallows. Her tone is quieter. “I do,” she repeats.

We just stare at each other, years of memories between us. She’s my best friend.

If it were her, I would say the same. She knows it.

She leads me to the edge of a cliff. Below, there’s only sea.

“Let it all out, Oro,” she says. “I’m here. You are not alone.”

You are not alone .

I swallow. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She shakes her head. “You would never hurt me,” she says. Truth. She believes it wholly. She believes in me .

Her lips quirk. “And I know my death, remember? It doesn’t happen here and now.” Enya grips my hand. “So let it out, Oro. Everything you’ve been pushing down. Just ... let it all go.”

Let it all go .

My chest burns as a current rises within me. It feels inevitable, like retching. Like something that must come out eventually.

My sun , my mother calls me. I was born at high noon, in searing heat. I’m the child in the burning crib, staring quietly through the flames. How she must have wondered if my powers would lead to good ... or destruction ...

Destruction . Flashes of images—Albert. The gilding. The proud smile on my father’s face.

The shame within me.

Such shame .

Anger churns through my blood, anger at this power, at my actions, at my responsibility, at the fact that I know I can never push this down, it will always be in me, waiting to catch fire, indifferent if I burn with it.

I close my eyes and see the world burning. I see myself setting it aflame.

No. I will control it. I won’t let the world become ashes.

Find your fire .

FIND IT .

I sink to my knees, and bellow.

Everything comes rushing out.

Fire shoots from my hand, the one that isn’t clutching Enya’s. It paints the sea red with flames. I burn and burn and burn until there’s nothing left, then I fall forward, gasping, tears slipping down my cheeks.

Enya’s hand is on my shoulder. She’s kneeling next to me. You are not alone .

When I open my eyes, the ocean is on fire.

Find your fire , my mother said.

I have. And I’m afraid of what it means.