Page 27 of The Spark that Ignites (Shattered Soul #1)

“I still don’t understand,” she said. “Like why I grew up across the gate, if this is where I was meant to be. My mother and sister were human. It just ... doesn’t add up.”

Vesper’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to do. But bringing Izzy back is more. It’s part of the prophecy.”

Emmery clenched her jaw, drawing a long breath that did little to calm her racing heart, and turned her back to Vesper.

“Look, I’ve read countless novels with stories like these.

About people who destroy themselves to prove worthy to some god or people they care little about.

And you know what? If they survive, they’re so destroyed by the end, they’re barely recognizable.

” Sweat slickened her palms, her khaos flame raging, and vestige a vicious golden halo.

“I don’t want this. I came to Karynthia for refuge, not some predestined agenda of the gods. ”

“This isn’t a story, Emmery. This is real.” Vesper’s steps grew louder behind her. “If you don’t do this, we’ll die off and magic will die with us. We need you.”

Drawing into herself, Emmery whispered, “Nobody needs me.”

“We do. Please just—” He breathed a long sigh. “Because you have this power, you need to know there are people out there who want you. Some to hurt you and some to use you. I’ll keep you safe, but you need to be on guard. You need to know.”

And just like that, she was once again a target. It was like the floor was crumbling beneath her. She came here so she wouldn’t have to run any longer. And now ... “Did you know you were bringing me into danger?”

Vesper averted his eyes but nodded, a twinge of shame in it.

“Damn it, Vesper ... I never wanted this. I never wanted any of this. I’ve been through enough already!

” She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get air into her damned chest and the room was spinning too fast. Emmery fell into a crouch and cradled her hands in her lap, the flames licking up her tunic, eating away at her sleeves.

It was hungry, livid, flaring to protect her from the danger.

Yet, it didn’t know she was the danger—the one out of control once again.

“Haven’t I—” she rasped. “Haven’t I been through enough?”

“I know ... it’s been tough.” But really, Vesper had no idea. He knew nothing about her. And how could he? They’d known each other for only a few days.

Her mind flitted back to that boy playing in Bellamere. That sickly man who had bumped shoulders with her and the children lined up outside the healer’s quarters. “Is that why ... those people are ill? Because—this flame is out?”

Vesper nodded again. “Living without magic ... it does something to us. Most don't live past thirty. They develop a fever, and it takes them. Some become sick as children, others it takes longer, but it’s inevitable. There’s no cure, other than this.”

If she couldn’t do this, they would all die . This place that was supposed to protect her from the terrors beyond the gate was quickly becoming a nightmare. Emmery clenched her fists, but the flames climbed, and she couldn’t staunch them.

“What’s happening? I can’t—” A small broken sound slipped free.

“It's alright, it’s just flaring. It happens.” Vesper’s voice sounded behind her, somewhat steady yet fear bled through. He placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, but she panicked, not wanting to hurt him. The flames consumed her, and she spun. Her hand grazed his shoulder.

Vesper winced, the smell of burnt leather and skin saturating the air as he staggered back with unfettered horror in his eyes, clutching his arm.

Emmery gaped.

She had melted through his armour with a single touch.

Monster. The voice inside her hissed. Coward.

No, no, no . Not again. Fool.

Emmery flinched from the reddened skin, her nails digging into her palms. Silence inflated, tension ready to snap as she took deliberate breaths, her chest inflating to the point of pain. “I’m sorry—”

“It’s alright,” Vesper assured, but it came out strained. “I’m fine.”

“I hurt you,” she choked out. “I—I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.” The words swallowed her as she repeated them, berating like she deserved. She needed to calm; to stifle her emotions against her magic so she wouldn’t hurt him again. So, she wouldn’t hurt anyone else.

“It’s okay, Emmery. It’s okay .” Vesper’s false comforts were enough to soothe her for the moment, enough to stop her flames steady incline up her body, but he kept his space.

In and out, she coaxed herself, pulling air into her lungs and willing her wild heart to settle. She was grasping, floundering, while needing solid ground.

Control. She needed control.

With all her strength, she reached for it.

And reached again, until she reined in that loose thread.

Wrapped it around her fingers until it cut into her flesh.

Until it threatened to split. For her to break.

But she hauled her magic back and clung to it.

Her flames retreated, dying with her slowing heart, leaving nothing in their wake but the bubbling skin of his arm.

Kneeling before the basin, Emmery clasped her hands together, knuckles white. “How can I help anyone if I can’t even help myself?”

“I remember feeling out of control too.” Vesper waved a hand, summoning a calm breeze to cleanse the hot air reeking of burnt flesh and leather. “It’ll pass.”

But what if it didn’t? Guilt cinched her heart and all she could do was stare at the burnt leather in horror. “Can I see your arm?”

He shook his head, suddenly fascinated by the ground. “It doesn’t even hurt.” It was clearly a lie by the set of his jaw and his clenched teeth. Vesper shifted his stance, transferring weight from foot to foot, opening his mouth then closing it several times over.

“Tell me the rest,” she prodded. “Why can’t I relight the flame now?”

He crouched beside her but kept enough distance to retreat if necessary. “You have to be found worthy before you can relight the flame.”

“Worthy?” she snapped. “By who ?”

“We don’t know.” Vesper sighed, rubbing his cheek thoughtfully. “The prophecy wasn’t clear.”

Emmery clenched her fists, fighting the uneasiness in her bones, fire in her belly, and her sparking fingertips.

She was so unworthy. So far from a saviour that anyone would desire and had wasted a century hiding like a coward.

Emmery stared into the dark basin. The stakes of everything had inflated exponentially in a matter of moments.

“Do you want me to try? Now, I guess. So, I don’t have to climb those damn stairs again.” Her attempt at humour fell flat even to her own ears.

“I don’t see why not.” He stood, offering her a hand. “What have we got to lose?”

“Alright, yeah.” Emmery didn’t take Vesper’s offer, frowning as she studied the nasty burn on his arm and bit down on her lip until she tasted blood. How could she have done that to him? Was she going to set this temple on fire if she tried? “You might want to step back.”

Vesper retreated as she stood before the onyx basin, hands trembling.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she extended her arms over the bowl.

She had spent a century snuffing out the incessant itch of her magic, and now, she wasn’t sure how to let go.

It sent a tremor of fear through her bones.

Maybe she was bracing herself for the consequences because she wasn’t worthy.

Perhaps she never would be. After all, her ashen soul held no glimmer of redemption.

Her heart picked up, drumming to the magical beat in her veins.

It was a relief to use her magic, like loosening a belt buckled too tightly, but there was too much riding on this to feel it.

Sparks appeared at her fingertips, engorging into flames like they were doused in lamp oil.

Emmery gasped and shrank back from her own hands, turning her face away but slowly, she lowered them into the basin, the ash dusting her fingertips.

Pain erupted in her hands and sizzling filled the air accompanied by the reek of burnt flesh. Hissing between her teeth, she threw herself back, cradling them to her body as she crumpled, her knees striking the floor.

Gods, that hurt . She whimpered as smoke wafted from her red flesh.

The gods, or whatever forces had concocted this asinine prophecy, had rejected her and she’d failed again. These poor people had chosen the wrong saviour. And now they would all die, their magic along with them.

She didn’t have words after her failure and Vesper didn’t press her. Instead, he sat with her until she could breathe through the pain.

After convincing him her hands didn’t hurt, they left the temple to retrieve the first item for Izora’s spell. The scent of burnt flesh still lingered in her nostrils hours later.