Page 26 of The Spark that Ignites (Shattered Soul #1)

F rom the moment Emmery opened her eyes, her magic thundered inside her—a growling untamed beast stealing the air from her lungs. But as she rose and dressed, she convinced herself it would be fine.

There wasn’t time to deal with it.

So, she tamped it down as she always had, knowing they had places to be, and her worries could wait. They had to.

Vesper’s uncharacteristic quietness churned her stomach as they rode side by side on their steeds.

All he told her, in a vague, cryptic way, was he needed to take her somewhere.

He also hadn’t prepared her for the hundreds of stairs up to the temple, and by the time they reached the top, Emmery braced herself on her knees, her brow dripping sweat onto the tiled floor.

She panted, sucking the thin air in reedy breaths, but her heart stuttered as she took in the scenery.

The sky, a heart stopping pastel, mirrored the lakes far in the distance and it was like the gods themselves had carved the snow-dusted mountains with deliberate hands.

There was a quality about this view that bled magic, although it was hard to appreciate when she couldn’t breathe.

“It wouldn’t have killed you to warn me about the stairs,” she wheezed.

How had he not broken a sweat in those leather pants? Leather on this unusually hot autumn day.

Vesper chuckled, leaning casually against a pillar.

The stonework could inspire the most callous man to speak in poetry, images of wings and stars, waterfalls and spring flowers carved into the pale limestone, nothing like the stark coldness of the House of Gods.

The abandoned temple was spotless, untouched, and not a scuff in sight. Honestly, it was strange.

Vesper gave her a lazy smile. “I warned you it would be a long hike.”

He hadn’t been exaggerating. She lost count of the steps after hauling herself up fifty, and Vesper had to coax her with food like some mongrel. Aera had opted to ride on Emmery’s shoulder and now sniffed every corner of the temple floor.

“Yes, but you didn’t specify stairs .” Emmery dragged the back of her hand over her sweaty brow. “If you didn’t bring me here for a good reason, I might knock you off the edge.” Saying it would be a steep tumble would be an understatement.

“Hey now, don’t be hostile. This is important.”

Vesper pushed himself off the pillar, his heavy boots echoing as he strolled to the center of the temple to a smoothly carved onyx basin on a waist height pedestal. Inside was what Emmery could only describe as stardust, holding an ethereal shimmer that screamed of other worlds.

He reached a gloved hand inside, retrieved a fistful, and let it slip through his fingers. “Do you know what this is?”

Emmery shook her head, joining at his side.

“This is ash made from khaos flame.” When she reached for it, he warned, “Careful. If you hold it too long, it’ll burn you.”

Fisting her hand, Emmery retracted.

“This is where we once performed the cleansing,” he added. Vesper turned his attention to the vessel beside it made of white marble, shimmering like untouched, freshly-fallen snow—opposite in every way. Inside sat eerily still water, the same lifeless black as the Whispering Spring.

“What’s that?” Emmery skimmed her fingers along the surface. It was frozen solid, and the faintest tinge of red clouded the black. “Is that—” She swallowed the unease climbing her throat. “Is that blood in the water?”

“It’s the second part. Once babes are cleansed in the fire, they’re bathed in the waters of the Hollow,” he said. “Legend says it’s Deimos’s blood. He’s the God of Blood and Ice for a reason.”

From the tension in her chest and the lifeless state of the temple, there had to be more. “What happened?”

“The flame was snuffed out. One night it was there, the next morning gone. The same happened with the frozen waters. And we haven’t been able to relight the flame or thaw the ice since. It’s been almost a century.”

Her stomach twisted and Emmery exhaled a heavy breath. Was that what he meant when he said the gods abandoned them? “So, this is obviously bad,” she observed.

He smirked though there was no humour in it. “Obviously.”

“Because Kenna can’t be cleansed. So, they aren’t chosen or given the scars. And because they don’t have the scars, they aren’t beckoned for the trial to receive their magic.” Her gaze flicked to Vesper. “Am I missing anything?”

“That’s the gist. The extinction of our kind.” He eyed her wearily.

Unease stirred in her belly. “Why are we here?”

“Do you remember what I told you back over the gate? About the khaos flame being a rare gift.”

Emmery narrowed her eyes, taking a step back. “I do. But what’s—” She choked on the lump forming in her throat. Something was off. Why did he drag her here? “What’s going on?”

“We’ve—” He tugged a hand through his hair, cursing softly before he continued, “Well, we’ve been searching for almost a century, but no one has held that magic since the Goddess Kahlia ... Until you.”

Emmery’s heart slowed and each sound heightened around her—the whistling of the wind through the temple pillars, the erratic chirp of a far-off bird, and the scuff of her boots on the perfect temple floors. “What does this have to do with me?”

“We need you to relight the flame with your gift.” Vesper wove the words like chinks in armour, and while each link should have made it stronger, something was broken and it crumpled to pieces, rendering it useless. Because he had to be wrong.

As Emmery stared at him, trying to sift through what he was asking and find the bit of information she was missing, a stifling silence swelled between them.

If she thought she couldn’t breathe moments ago, she was wrong.

This fire in her veins was the last thing from a gift.

He had to be joking. This was some sort of . .. prank. It had to be.

Emmery’s jaw clenched, her teeth gnashing, as doubt and embarrassment sank in. “This isn’t funny. You’re making this up.”

“I’m not,” he pressed.

But Emmery wasn’t convinced. “So, what, I’m supposed to relight the fire? Shoot some sparks in there and call it a day? Is that it?” The words sounded ridiculous, and she barked a harsh laugh. “You don’t need me. I’m—I’m nobody.”

“You certainly aren’t nobody. And deep down, you know it too.” After catching the crazed look in her eyes, Vesper kept his voice tentative, soft. “We’ve been waiting for you. To save us. To relight the flame.”

This had to be some sort of mistake. Her cheeks reddened, her heart roaring, and the new magic in her blood sparked to life, the very khaos flame they spoke of striking out.

And it was angry.

What did he mean they’d been waiting for her? She was over a hundred years old and across that gate all this time—running and hiding because she was too weak to save herself. She’d done nothing with her life, and he was saying she’s some saviour?

What the fuck did that even mean?

The temple became too stuffy, and she tugged at the neck of her tunic.

“Look, I’ll do it, if that’s what you really want, but you have the wrong woman ...” She paused at the hesitation on his face. “What now?”

Vesper’s brows creased, his face drawn. “I wish it were that simple. There’s more. And it’s ... intense.”

It was unnerving to see him so serious. Emmery’s stomach sank as he fiddled with the strap on his glove again, seeming to ready himself for the next scrap of information, sure to be worse than the first.

“There’s a prophecy,” he said, slowly, eyes tracing her frame to gauge her reaction.

Worry slithered through her gut as the flames roared, and she squeezed her eyes trying to staunch them. “That’s—ridiculous. It’s ridiculous.” Anger rose and she spat, “This is nonsense. Why are you doing this to me?”

It couldn’t possibly be her. Could it? All she wanted was to be normal. To belong here and live a normal life. And now it was all being ripped away.

Vesper’s eyes widened, tracking the flames climbing her hands. “Take a few deep breaths. Your emotions are heightened from the magic joining your blood.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Emmery stood and paced, unable to contain it all. The lid she had clamped over her emotions was leaking steam, billowing out smoke, and she was boiling over.

“I just need to get this out. Will you listen?” She didn’t acknowledge him, and Vesper snapped his glove clasp.

“You can take it or leave it, but I promised someone I would say it. That I would bring you here and set things in motion.” He sucked in a sharp breath, like it would give him strength.

“An oracle named Zyphira visited me and told me about the prophecy, but all I remember is a flower and silver and gold. There was a line about burning and sparks igniting and it referenced the origin story of the gods. The Ballad of Beginnings.”

“Alright, but—” she argued, her cheeks hot, “how do you know the prophecy is about me?”

Vesper raised a brow. “Really?” He gestured to her hair and eyes. “Silver and gold.” Then her hands. “You have the khaos flame at your fingertips. It's pretty evident.”

“It could be anyone,” she muttered but she knew in her shrunken heart it wasn’t true. It seemed too convenient to be a coincidence. “What else do you remember?”

“There was something about six saviours, three men and three women, who have scars like ours, Hollow and Fallen, and the mark of the Shadowheart . The prophecy says two gods will save magic with the help of the disciples. Izzy and I have the scars but that only makes two of us. And you fit the rest of the prophecy.”

A silence spread between them. “Sounds like—”

“I know how it sounds,” he countered. “I don’t know if I believe it myself but having both scars must mean something. Zyphira gave me the guidance I needed to find you and set things in motion. About Izzy too. And she’s an oracle, so she has to know, right?”