Page 10 of Seared Fates

“Hmmm, well, creating takes a lot more power than controlling. But…” she scratches her head. “To be honest, I’m not too sure. My education, the stuff I paid attention to anyway, was focused on shadow magic and a little history about the wars we’re still involved in.” At my shocked expression, she waves it off. “Supernaturals are immortal, so we’ve always gotta find something to fight about. Actually, I’m pretty certain the light mages are warring with the vampires right now.”

“Over what?” I stand straighter. “Is Golden in danger?”

“Nah, he’s totally fine.” Summer leans back against the counter and blows cool air on her tea. “It was probably one vampire family a few hundred years ago that pissed off a light mage high up enough to make some waves, and they still haven’t gotten over it.” She chuckles, then breathes out a sigh as if to say ‘it is what it is’.

“So wars spanning hundreds of years over an imagined slight are perfectly normal?”

“Us mages sure can hold onto a grudge.” She pauses, and her rings seem to suck in some of the light. “Shadow mages are the best at it, though, no matter what those storm mage bastards say.”

I laugh, I can’t help it. It bursts out of me like a round of applause.

“Summer…” I sigh. “This is fucking crazy.”

She laughs with me. “I know, right?”

I didn’t get the answer I was hoping for, but at least my shoulders aren’t as low.

“Well, thanks for the lesson. It’s nice to hear the supernatural community is as fucked up as the humans.”

She snorts. “Don’t you know it.” She heads back towards the basement. But as she passes my jacket. “Huh…”

“What?” I step forward.

“These symbols, I’ve never noticed them before…” she frowns, as if she’s trying to pull a memory from somewhere.

“Do you…Do you know what they mean?”

“Did Apollo do it? Some punk thing?”

I shake my head.

“Must be my imagination then,” she shrugs, then wanders down into the basement. “See you, Kai!”

I hadn’t gotten any questions answered. If anything, I’m more confused, but as I carry my drink to my little studio and sit at my desk, the hollow pit Vidar carved with his rejection doesn’t exactly vanish, but feels less like it’ll never heal. I might not have romantic love, but that doesn’t mean I’m alone.

I will be okay, even if there's something inside me that begs to go find the big vampire.

He doesn’t want me, and I won’t beg.

Pulling out a notepad, I stare down at it for long enough that I have to blink away the dryness before taking hold of my unicorn pencil.

Back when we were trapped in the warehouse, Apollo asked me to create fire, and I did. I’ve done it before, but not with so much purpose. Usually, it’s accidental when I’m zoning out and doodling.

I notice I’m patting the hair on my left side and drop my hand to the desk, curling my fingers into a fist.

The first time I started a fire was the most memorable.

The most fatal, too.

Golden screaming in agony wasn’t the first time I’d heard people cry out in burning pain. But, what if I could really control it…

This is why my fire is my deepest shame. I should never wanna touch the magic that sits within those symbols, not yearn for them, but each line I draw feels like coming home. Some of thesymbols look like a capital ‘A’ on its side with a small, flourish ‘o’ at its point. Most of them make no sense.

I keep drawing the symbol over and over. In the warehouse, I’d been desperate to call on my fire; we needed to get the hell outta there. Apollo, Golden and Ramy were relying on me. But also…I was curious.

Could I do it?

That’s how I felt the first time I really tried to draw something as a kid. Could I? Would these shapes work together? It had taken time and effort, but eventually, my childish scribbles became a shitty little unicorn.