Flames of Fury

Ember

Mags doesn’t fight me when I extend my hand out to her to help her off the floor and into the bathroom. I run her a hot bath and wash her hair for her while she works on scrubbing the rest of her body. She has such beautiful, long white hair that has a pearlescent quality to it, at least it does when it’s clean. Mags’ movements are robotic, going through the motions to get herself clean, but it’s better than seeing her sitting on the floor in her own dried blood.

When she’s clean, dry, and dressed I leisurely brush out her hair and plait it into a single braid. The guards don’t bother us as we walk through the corridors, they know better than to stop and question the woman they believe will be their new queen and her doctor. It’s also helpful that Griffin’s room is just past the infirmary, so it’s not unusual for us to be walking in this direction.

Griffin is already in his room by the time we show up and he’s put out some food to entice Mags to eat. “Anyone give you any trouble on your way here?” He asks as he offers Mags a glass of water.

She takes it and sips it slowly, mechanically, her eyes unfocused like she’s looking at something a thousand yards away.

“No, I made sure to go by the infirmary just in case.” If anyone did question anything, it would simply appear as though I were bringing my patient in for a checkup. But the guards don’t patrol this section of the Hollow, only Griffin and his brother live in this wing.

“Alright, good.” He turns his attention towards where Mags is sitting at his kitchen table and takes a seat next to her pushing the platter of food towards her a little more. “While you and Ember got ready, I went and spoke with Illian. I think he underestimated you, in fact I know he did. Due to the negative impact sleep deprivation has on your health he will stay out of your dreams…for now.” There’s a sincere remorse to the way he speaks those last two words. I know that he feels badly about this entire situation, but he’s playing a dangerous game and needs to make careful moves.

“You’re welcome to get some rest here, or I can take you back to your room and guard it personally.” He offers her.

“Right.” Mags scoffs, “you just waltzed over to Ian and asked really nicely for him to stop torturing the poor pregnant girl. Now I know I’m dreaming.”

He reaches across the table and grasps her hand. Without sleep, she’s not as fast as she normally is so despite trying to pull her hand away, Griffin manages to get a grip on her.

“Mags, this moment is real.” He looks over towards me and I know what he’s asking just from the expression in his eyes. I nod, giving him my silent permission for him to continue.

“Did you know that Ember isn’t from Drow Hollow?”

Mags nods, she knows I’m not from here but she doesn’t know how I came to live in Drow Hollow.

“Did she tell you that Illian tormented her as well?”

She nods once again but this time looks at me with empathetic eyes. She knows now just how sick Illian can be and how his mind games can fuck you up on every level.

“Well, did you know that I was the one who helped her through it?”

At this she looks up, cautious like a cat and slow to trust.

Griffin smiles kindly at her and squeezes her hand in his. “Illian isn’t one for details, he’ll get the small things wrong. Like —,”

“Like calling me the wrong nickname,” Mags whispers to herself.

Griffin’s smile broadens, he can tell he’s getting through to her. “Exactly. The faster you can pick out the flaws, the sooner you’ll be able to orient yourself. Ideally you’d have some kind of observable tell, like the wrong hair color or eye color.”

Mags stands up abruptly and marches over to the kitchen. Griffin eyes her with curiosity as she navigates her way through his apartment.

She grabs a knife out of the block on the counter and brings it up to her neck.

“Mags, no! What are you doing?” I shriek. Maybe I underestimated how much he tortured her, maybe her mind is too far gone – maybe we’re too late to save her.

With a quick swipe of the blade she slashes through the middle of the braid in her hair. Her newly shortened hair falls so that it just kisses the tops of her shoulders and even though it was quite literally a hack job, somehow she still looks amazing.

Griffin and I share a collective heavy sigh of relief while Mags throws away the severed hair and cleans the knife before returning it to its correct spot in the block.

“Alright, Griffin, let’s test your theory.” She walks back to the table and snatches a sandwich off the plate.

“Now tell me,” she says after her first bite, “if you had the choice, how would you choose to die?”

— — —

Magnolia

I don’t remember falling asleep on Griffin’s couch but that’s where I find myself covered up with a throw blanket and a pillow under my head.

When I sit up I catch sight of him and Ember cooking together in the kitchen. It’s a sweet moment that makes me long for such simplicity with my mates, but the moment is cut short by the smell of the chicken that has me reeling and sprinting to the bathroom.

“Mags, you okay?” Ember’s voice calls out to me as I dry heave over the toilet.

“Sorry, the smell,” I gag between words. The urge to throw up is violent and demanding, but try as I might nothing comes up.

When the dry heaves finish wracking my body I wash my face and rinse my mouth out with Griffin’s mouthwash. Ember is waiting for me at the table with a hot cup of tea which she offers to me as I take a seat next to her. “Here, drink this. It’s ginger tea, it’ll help the nausea. And you need to eat something, anything.”

I accept the plate of food Griffin offers to me with less hesitation than I did before I fell asleep on his couch, owing in part to the increased trust I have in him after our conversation. I was impressed by Griffin’s responses to my questions, his responses were consistent with what I’ve observed of his personality so far and I didn’t detect any hesitation or deceit. His answers were immediate and sure.

“Well obviously I’ve never really thought of dying or how I’d die. But I guess if I had to choose, I’d like to go down fighting for a good cause, you know, something meaningful that makes a difference.”

That kind of answer is rare, not many people are altruistic to the point of self sacrifice, or at least not enough to act on it when it comes down to it. It also piques my interest as to why he’s living here in the kingdom of hell acting as the yes-man to the most sinister snake of a man ever to roam the Earth.

His answer to the third question absolutely bowled me over.

“Would I deserve it? Now that’s an intriguing question.” He rubbed his chin and stared at the floor in deep thought until at last he spoke solemnly. “Probably not. I’ve spent more of my life on the wrong team than the right one, it wouldn’t be fair to be remembered as a hero.”

“Griffin?” I ask him as I sip my steaming cup of ginger tea. “What did you mean when you said you’ve spent more of your life on the wrong team than the right one?”

Griffin looks at Ember before he answers, like he’s seeking some unspoken permission to respond to me. “I’ve helped Illian rise to where he is today, I’ve helped him take his revenge out on people who deserved it. But things started to change after…” his voice trails off and he looks lost in a painful memory.

He closes his eyes and breathes in a heavy sigh. “Illian had gotten wind of some valuable assets that were located in a colony relatively near to us at the time. I didn’t know that those assets were people – people with very useful powers. Mind readers, elementals… healers.”

He looks to Ember with apologetic eyes, forever plagued by whatever memory he’s describing to me now.

“We raided their colony, reduced it to ash.” He clears his throat, choking down his remorse.

Ember speaks up at this point with a soft and quiet voice. “I lost my parents and my sister that day, lost my home. I had no choice but to go with Illian, there was nothing left for me there.”

“That day,” Griffin speaks up again, “I started to realize the lengths to which Illian would go on his quest for power. It stopped being about rectifying injustices done unto him and turned into forcing everyone in his path to bend to his will or face death.”

He serves me another plate of food which I immediately dig into just as quickly as the first, my appetite hitting me with a vengeance. “It started slowly, very slowly, but there’s been a resistance building against him. I do what I can to actively defy or sabotage him, but it’s important for me to maintain my position in order to get the intel we need to make moves.”

“Sabotage? What could you possibly do to foil one of his plans?” I ask in disbelief that he could manage to pull off not only not following orders, but acting in direct contradiction to them.

A slow smile tugs at his lips. “Illian had no intention of releasing your father and uncle. Once they had knocked you out Illian had every single guard working to barricade the entrances so your family couldn’t find their way back down here. It was my only chance and I took it – I got your dad and uncle out during the commotion.”

My fork is suspended in mid air, my mouth agape. It’s exceptionally difficult to surprise me, but Griffin’s managed to do the impossible. If I didn’t trust him before, this bit of information seals the deal – if it’s true.

“Forgive my skepticism, but how am I supposed to verify if that’s true from down here.”

“Because I promised him I’d get everyone I could out. Those in the resistance, Ember… You.”

He looks down at his hands again with that sad, guilty expression. “I just don’t know how long it will take me. It’s not something I can plan ahead. I got your dad and uncle out on a split second decision because of the circumstances at the time. I don’t know when or if I’ll get another opportunity like that. But it’s my life’s work now, freeing the innocent from Illian’s reach, or at least protecting them as much as I can.”

“Griffin helped me survive Illian’s visits, helped me heal from the mental and emotional damage he caused – he helped me find a new purpose in life.” Ember says as she clears the plates from the table. She’s clearly comfortable in his home which tells me that she’s spent a great deal of time here with Griffin. As if his home, or maybe just him as a person, is a sanctuary amidst the rest of this hell.

“So what now?” I’m a woman of action, of solving the problem now. I don’t like sitting on an issue and letting it fester while I weigh the pros and cons of my choices. My inner consciousness rolls her eyes at me and reminds me that had I been more patient I wouldn’t have ended up in the situation I’m in now, but I tell her to fuck off. What’s done is done. I need to focus on getting home.

“For now sit tight, be patient. Remember what I told you about the dreams, don’t give him the satisfaction of losing your mind.” His reply leaves me slightly deflated.

Be patient. An impossible task if ever there was one.

“Come now, my Queen. Let’s get you back to your room before curfew.” He winks at me which pulls yet another smile from me involuntarily. I don’t miss the reverential way he calls me his queen.

As we walk back to my room I feel something for the first time since my arrival here, something I never expected to feel – anticipation for my next dream.