Page 32 of The Spark that Ignites (Shattered Soul #1)

H ooves beat the ground in a staccato rhythm as Emmery slitted her swollen eyes.

Propped like a ragdoll between Vesper’s legs, her head lolled against his chest with each of Balthasar’s footfalls, the steed’s nostrils flaring with their thunderous pace.

Her cheeks burned, forehead damp, and body numb yet .

.. chilled. Soot and the stench of charred flesh clung to their clothes.

She blinked, trying to piece together reality.

The memories trickled back.

She had ... collapsed in that meadow.

Vesper dismounted, but her distant limbs wouldn’t respond. Too weak to stand, she let Vesper scoop her into his arms. Aera leapt off the steed’s hind quarters and chirped for Emmery’s attention, circling Vesper’s legs.

His erratic heartbeat thundered in her ear as he stalked forward, his voice low, rough. “You'll be fine. We’re almost there. Just hold on.” His panicked tone was anything but convincing.

All sense of time distorted—her mind spinning like a turbulent wheel. Emmery blinked through her blurred vision, her eyes finally focussing. “Where are we?”

Sharp pain twisted his face. “This is—was my home. Ellynne. But I should warn you, I don’t know the state of it.”

Great stone walls severed the clouded black and blue sky.

A mottled bruise like her current state of mind.

Vesper carried her across a wooden bridge, over a babbling moat, to a colossal black gate.

It seemed to scream do not pass but he pressed his hand to the iron bars, his eyes closing.

Emmery twined her arms around him and let her head fall into the crook of his neck.

He gritted his teeth; shoulders tense as the gate creaked open and they squeezed through.

Her breath caught, all pain and numb limbs forgotten, banished by adrenaline.

Devastation. Complete and utter devastation . The word sank in her chest like a heavy stone in water.

This place was once a home. Was once Vesper’s home. And now—

Time blurred, dragged and yet raced by, as they passed demolished buildings, heaps of charcoal, unidentifiable rubble, and endless ash piled high, everything irrevocably burned, charred the lifeless black of death. Ruin coated every surface.

The impact of whatever blasted this town left no semblance of life.

Emmery squeezed her eyes shut at the sight of tiny skeletal fingers clasped in their mother’s. A final embrace before Death claimed them. Soot and dried gore smeared an unfinished chalk drawing.

Vesper’s heart stuttered as if he had known them. “We’re almost there,” he rasped.

His pace quickened as he stumbled through the streets, tripping over himself. Not once had Emmery seen his steps falter but his wide eyes darted from the wreckage to the skeletons, back to her anguish painting his face.

Aera dodged Vesper’s erratic gait as they passed through what Emmery imagined was once the market to the quaint kingdom. Illegible signage and fragments of stands lay in pieces, shattered glass strewn across the ground.

Soldiers’ empty armour, swords, and helmets warped by heat, scattered their path, melted crests of stargazing wolves decorating each chest piece—the dream of a kingdom now lost.

They ducked under a portcullis rendered useless, blown off its chains.

The untouched fortress, evidently far enough from the blast to endure any damage, was opposite King Silas’s plain castle in every way, with its great black peaks, needle sharp spires, flying buttresses, and intricate details carved into the arches.

It reminded her of a castle fit for a vampire king.

Guarding either side of the rounded doorway were stone wolves—one baring its teeth and the other howling at the sky above.

A tear trickled down Vesper’s cheek, and he angrily swiped it away, though his chest shook a single inconsolable sob. Her heart broke for him.

No, not broke, but shattered into a million tiny pieces.

There were no words to say. No way to make this better or soften the blow of loss held within these walls.

Emmery had known loss, first from her mother’s death, then her sisters, but the loss of one’s kingdom and family brutally swept away in a sea of fire, was a pain she couldn’t even begin to imagine.

Her adrenaline and focus faded as burning seared through Emmery’s veins, stealing the air from her lungs. She clenched her teeth, but it was too much. Too vast. The edges of her vision frayed, nausea swallowing her.

Vesper’s feet dragged as he clambered up the front steps and kicked open the doors, his boot leaving a footprint of soot on the dark wood. He trudged through the doorway and collapsed onto a knee as if the strength left his body all at once.

Aera rushed to Emmery’s side, nosing her limp hand with a soft whine.

Whistling between his teeth, the sound filling the empty halls, ebony wings responded, materializing out of thin air. A raven twisted, seemingly pulled from some dimension between, its four violet eyes blinking in unison.

Vesper commanded the bird with a voice fit for a prince. “Find them.”

“OUCH! EM!” MAELA WHINED , jerking her head as Emmery tugged her hair again, gentler this time. Her legs had long fallen asleep from Maela’s seat in her lap, but she didn’t care. It was one of the few times she let her cuddle her now that she was growing. “That hurts.”

“If the braids aren’t tight, they won’t stay,” Emmery protested.

Her head rested against the oak footboard as her fingers threaded her sister’s unruly red hair.

Simmering broth lingered in the air from the pot downstairs, the stew thrown together with every scrap of food they had left.

It wouldn’t be as good as her mother’s but at least she tried.

“I want to cut it all off,” Maela grumbled, thrashing once more.

Emmery barked a laugh. “Absolutely not! Your hair is too beautiful. It only needs a little ... taming.” Unlike Emmery’s limp silver locks that fell straight no matter how many styles she attempted, her sister’s unabashed curls always sprung free of the most careful styles and had a life of its own.

They likely sprouted right from Maela’s spirit.

“I hate this,” Maela complained. “I hate sitting still for this. What’s the point anyway? It’s going to come out soon enough.”

Emmery snickered, tugging on a strand of hair.

“Well, you have dinner with the Mattias’.

It wouldn’t kill you to look nice for them.

” Maela sighed, throwing her hands up. Always a flair for dramatics.

“Do you want them thinking you’re some kind of animal, Mae?

Should I dip you in mud before I send you off and stick some twigs in your hair for the full effect? ”

Her sister snarled, nipping at Emmery’s hand and she yanked it away, yelping in mock fear.

The two of them broke out into laughter, each laughing harder at the snorts Maela was unable to hold back.

Her laugh was far too carefree and genuine in comparison to Emmery’s.

Every time Maela laughed, Emmery felt the authenticity in her chest.

Emmery secured a tie around the thick braids, one on each side of her head.

“I think it’s some of my best work.” Her mother was the one with a knack for hair, but all Emmery could do was try.

All she’d done since her mother passed was try.

Emmery’s chest ached at the similarities between her and Mae.

They had the same deep scarlet locks, fair, unblemished skin, and kind heart.

Emmery was unfortunately the outlier in the family in every way.

Giving her a sly smile, Emmery said, “You know, I think that boy likes you.”

Maela scoffed. “Who? Kaden?”

“Have you seen the way he looks at you? And he invited you to dinner, Mae.”

A deep vermillion swept Maela’s fair cheeks. Even her ears reddened. “No way.”

Emmery grinned, seeing how far that flush would spread. “He’s utterly smitten.”

“Gross,” Maela muttered. Emmery stroked her sister’s hair. How long would it be before she was sprinting out the door and after boys? The thought twisted Emmery’s gut.

But it wouldn’t be her choice. It would be Maela’s. This life, the one she sacrificed to build for her sister, would be better than she ever had. She would ensure it even if it killed her.

“You might feel differently one day.” Emmery smoothed a few hairs already springing free. “You may even think he’s handsome.”

“Unlikely, Em,” she snapped, springing to her feet and adjusting her skirts.

Emmery smirked. “You clean up alright.” Maela didn’t shoot back a remark, too busy fidgeting with the braids. Softening her voice, she added, “You look beautiful, Mae.”

A long silence swelled between them as Maela stared past her to their mother’s painting of the three of them. In the painting Maela was a babe, swaddled in Emmery’s arms. At the time, Emmery was only ten. Her heart clenched at the pain simmering in her sister's eyes.

“It’s times like this I miss momma.” Maela studied her feet. “I wish she was here.”

“She would have had less trouble with your hair, that’s for sure,” Emmery said, fighting back the tears burning her throat. “I miss her too.” Emmery’s chest wound impossibly tighter. “I’m trying my best to fix all of this.”

Maela gave a sad nod, still staring at her feet and fidgeted with her collar. “I know.”

It was evident Maela was trying to hide her pain from the raw burns beneath her dress. Guilt sang through Emmery, and she blinked away the wetness clouding her eyes. The balm Emmery procured could only do so much. Maela would bear those scars forever.

She strode to Maela, taking her sister’s face into her hands and meeting her warm whiskey stare. “She would be really proud of you, Mae. You know that, right?” A few tears spilled down her cheek and Emmery wiped them away with her thumbs. “I’m really proud of you, little fish.”

Maela smiled, sniffing back tears. “I love you more than all the stars in the sky.”

“I love you more than all the fish in the sea.” Emmery pressed a quick kiss to her forehead as she turned to leave. “I have to get going. Dinner is on the stove and your cloak is clean, hanging on the chair.”

Maela caught her hand. “Promise you’ll be home tonight?”

“I’ll try.” Emmery gave her sister another quick squeeze. “Leave me a note in our box? I’ll read it when I get home and then we’ll go in the morning.”

Emmery didn’t know that night everything would be ripped away.

That she would offer anything, give any piece of herself away, to experience those little things again.

She didn’t know she would miss her sister's carefree smile and snorts between laughs. Or that she would long to struggle with her sister’s hair, even if it was only one more time.

Because loss is a pain like no other, a stain on one’s heart, and those were the last braids Maela ever wore.