The Fallen Prince

hundreds of years. I thought the art was lost.”

“Someone found it,” a man said.

“Someone always does,” another said.

“But who would do it?”

Elix hovered at the edge of the group, her face sour with hate. Bending, she scooped up a little girl who had lost her parents. “One of your kind, a first,” she said without any hesitance, “and not one I’d like to know. Talking about the dark souls, hearing the fear in our voices only makes them stronger and us weaker. I, for one, say we head back.”

As Elix carried the little girl away, the others straggled along behind her. Scoran leaned close. “Elix is right. Only a first would brave that kind of magic, though I personally know of no first with the kind of power it would take to conjure one dark soul, let alone so many.”

Kera stood, her feet steady, her vision clear. She brushed the dirt from her clothes as her mind spun with possibilities. “We have to find out who did this and why.”

“We will.” Scoran stood and squeezed her shoulder. “I know you wanted to leave, but if you had, everyone would have died. Thank you.”

Kera didn’t feel triumphant. She felt torn in two. If not for the voice…

She refused to analyze where it came from or how it had appeared in her head. She was just grateful for the help. “I cannot stay. You know that.”

His hand slipped from her shoulder, leaving the memory of warmth behind. “I know.” His brows stabbed together briefly. “We are not helpless, no matter what Signe would have you think.”

A gentle rise curved his lips, not exactly a smile, but a show of support she desperately needed. He eyed the sky. “It will rain soon. I should follow the others back to the village. I’ll tell your father what happened. He’ll know what to do.” Without waiting for her, he followed the others through the break in the wheat.

She marveled at his faith in her father. Once she had done the same, but her father had let Navar run wild without questioning his motives, and Teag had suffered for it. Still suffered. Yet, if anyone could unearth how to rid them of the dark souls, it was her scholarly father.

When Kera entered the path, she saw Halim. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and fell into step beside her when she drew near. He cleared his throat twice and peeked up at her several times before he spoke. “I’ve never seen anything like that. You were amazing. When we get to the village, everyone will be abuzz with what you did.”

She took hold of his arm and held him back, dreading what she must do. “Halim, I’m leaving.”

He blinked, as if he couldn’t process what she was saying. “Leaving? Why?”

“I have other responsibilities. Signe knows how to get in touch with me if you really need me.” Though it was uncomfortable to see him struggle to understand, Kera had to stay focused. Her main concern was the barrier and how to fix it.

“Can I come with you?”

“They need you here, you know that. I’ll be back. Soon. I promise.”

Though he hid his disappointment well, he wasn’t fooling her. She’d have to be very careful he didn’t follow her. So far, Dylan had been understanding about her bringing strays home…at least the nonflammable ones he knew about. She already had a dragon on the loose in the human realm. The last thing they needed was a boy too independent to know when trouble stepped in his way. And right now, Kera knew she was trouble.

She just didn’t know how much had attached itself to her and how long it would last.

Deep Breath

I don’t know how long I was out, but a slap to my face drags me from the darkness like a bat from its cave. I jerk awake, fighting my way through the suffocating blackness and nightmarish dreams about fire. I feel dry. Not merely dry, but mummified. My skin is flaky, my eyes scratchy, my tongue withered. I’m like a sand sculpture, one the barest breeze will etch away.

I’m lying on my bed with only my boxers on and a cool cloth on my forehead. I have no idea how I got here. I drag the cloth off my head and let it fall to the floor. A shadow hovers above me. Leo gently slaps my cheek again, drawing my attention to him. When I finally make eye contact, he sighs. “Bro, you are officially a juvenile delinquent.”

I grunt, mostly because I can’t say anything through the desert that’s become my throat.

Wyatt rushes into my bedroom. The muscles in his jaw flex, his face flushes.

“You got the matches?” Leo asks.

“Lighter.” Wyatt clicks on the flame and grabs a pair of jeans I’d tossed in the corner the night before. Without asking, he touches the flame to the fabric. “Me burning his clothes… A little ironic don’t you think?”

I tap Leo’s leg. “W-w-” I can’t speak. I hold my throat and point to the bathroom.

As my jeans smoke and burn, Leo quickly brings me a glass of water. Grandma insists a man shouldn’t have to stumble around in the dark for a drink and made sure I had a clean glass every night. She’s sweet like that. I bet she never thought she’d be catering to a guy like me. She deserves better.

I down the water and hand the glass back, all the while watching Wyatt burn holes in my jeans. “Shirt,” he says snapping his fingers for one.

Leo picks up a vintage concert T-shirt I unearthed in a secondhand shop, and I quickly point to an old crew neck that has a hole under the arm. “Why are you—”

Wyatt tosses the burned jeans at me, cutting off my question, and starts in on the T-shirt. “You are one piece of work. A regular demolition man. People heard and saw that blast for miles and now those damned looky- loos are camped out on your grandpa’s front lawn. We’re lucky nobody got hurt.”

“Well, a few chickens died…,” Leo says, then nudges my hand holding the jeans. “Put them on.”

I slip into them and push to my feet, feeling a bit better but still woozy. “Sorry. I’m not exactly sure what happened.”

“You blew Wyatt’s barn apart and everyone’s freaking out.” Leo dropped his voice to a whisper. “This is big. You can control fire, bro.”

“If that’s him controlling his…I don’t know…gift, then we’re in serious trouble.” Wyatt pats out the lick of flame damaging my shirt. “Done.” He tosses the T-shirt in my general direction. “I still don’t get it. You burned down the barn but your clothes are singe-free. That’s weird, kid.”

Leo catches the shirt and shoves it at me. “Come off it, Wyatt. Don’t act like you’re not impressed.”

“Hell yeah I’m impressed, in more ways than one. He lights up, but not his clothes, yet he can burn through things, like the metal on my weight vest, without knowing it. He’s out of control. He’s a serious problem, and one I’m having a hard time keeping a step ahead of.”

My brain is slowly waking up, but there are still gaping holes I need to fill. “I get why Leo is here, I mean he lives here, or close by and he’s my friend, but what are you doing here?”

Leo glares at Wyatt. “Yeah. Why are you here?”

I slowly pitch to the side like a drunken sailor, one arm in my shirt and one fishing for the other opening. Wyatt pushes past Leo, grabs my arm and none too gently stuffs it into the waiting armhole. “I’m here to save your lily-white asses.”

I pop my head through the top hole and pull the shirt over my torso. “I’m pretty sure Leo’s is brown.”

They both stop, and there’s a quick anxious glance between them.

“I’m saying dumb shit, aren’t I?” I say. “Sorry. My head hurts. I need more water.”

Leo turns back to Wyatt. “And the burn unit treatment?”

“Residual damage.”

Leo nods. “Okay, I get where you’re—”

“Can you limp?” Wyatt cuts Leo off to ask me.

I have no idea what he’s talking about. “I’m fine. It’s my head that really—”

Wyatt hauls back and leg-whips my shin, dropping me to my knees.