him above all else. The one who loved him so much she was
willing to die for him, and to be reborn. The one who would
past the test.
And she was that goddess. She knew that now, her
heart beating faster with proud certainty. From the moment
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she had met him she had known him – seen past his brilliant
blue eyes and cruel charm to the flame burning within. And
she had wanted it so badly – for the tales to be true. For the
legend to be real. To be his goddess. And it had been proven
true. She had not run from him, from the danger of his
desires. She had stood by him, borne his passion, burned to
his touch.
And now she would summon the Sacred Flame.
It was time. She would fulfill her destiny. The great
task of the stones – from these small, hot gems she would
make the fire.
But first she had to pass the test. A bonfire had been
prepared for her in the basin of the volcano, drawing its
strength from the volcano below. She would walk through
the flames. She would stand in their heat.
But she would not be burned.
She would simply be reborn, her goddess form made
clear.
“Stop!”
She whirled around to face him, and her face
crumpled with compassion. She knew this man – she knew
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he was the enemy of her love. His ways were not her ways;
he belonged to the realm of water. That shadowy cool force
that only dampened her flames. She had loved him, once –
but she could not think of that now. That was before she had
learned who he was – that was before she had discovered her
destiny as Queen of Fire.
“Don't do it – it's too much a risk I can't save you
from these. Even my power won't extinguish these flames.
It's too much a risk.”
The Fire King scoffed. “Some faith you have in her,
cousin! Be off with you!”
“Please – it's too dangerous. You're risking her life.”
“I have found my love,” the Fire King said. “She has
found me. She is the Goddess. Let not your petty jealousy
blind you to that fact. She is mine now.”
The girl's eyes were wide with sorrow. “I'm sorry,”
she whispered to the man. “I'm so sorry.”
But she did not hesitate. She turned and walked
proudly towards the bonfire, which set the night blazing with
its light. Flames licked at the hem of her dress; she could feel
its scalding heat. But she knew it would not burn her. She
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knew it would not hurt her.
She had to prove her faith. She had to prove her love.
She had to jump in.
No sooner was she in the midst of the flames than she
knew something had gone wrong. Her skin was blistering;
agony beat in her blood. She screamed and could not scream,
for her mouth was filled with smoke, with fire.
“Help!” The cry escaped her lips. “Somebody help
me!”
But there was nothing they could do. The greatest
oceans in the world could not have put the fire out. She heard
them yelling, screaming, calling her name – she saw,
between the licking of the flames, them running towards her,
repelled by the magic that guarded the bonfire, thrown upon
their backs. Her screams choked into nothingness; her pain
became nothingness too. She heard them screaming her
name as she died.
And then the flames were gone, carrying with them
her body, turned to ash, and the ashes blew forth over the
silent night. All that was left of her – scattered to the winds.
“No...” The Fire King was doubled over. He felt her
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pain. He felt her burn. Tears were stinging at his eyes. “No!”
“You killed her. You fool – you killed her!”
“She was the goddess!”
“She wasn't a goddess – she was a girl. My girl. And
you killed her!” A punch, a blow. The Fire King did not
bother fighting back. He let the Water King kick him, bruise
him, spit upon him; he let his blood run freely into the earth.
This pain was better, he thought. Anything was better than
the guilt that was overtaking him.
The guilt running alongside the fear.
For he knew now, with terrible certainty – time was
running out. The woman he loved was not his goddess. She
was dead – gone from him forever. And if he did not find his
goddess soon, then the whole world would suffer for it.
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Chapter 1
Mackenzy (Mac)
Three Years Later
The flames licked gently at the twigs, the embers
gleaming red and orange beneath the night sky. The night –
an endless black punctuated intermittently by stars – had
taken on an eerie glow. I leaned in to feel the warmth from
the fire. I couldn't take my eyes from the flames, each one
bearing upwards towards the stars, flickering and lapping
and licking, as if each of them was participating – too – in
the dance. For they were all dancing, not just the fires but the
girls, their hips shaking in time to the music. Their grass
skirts elegantly shuffled from one side of their toned,
graceful bodies to another; the leis they wore sparkled in the
light of the flames. I had never seen so much color before.
Green and red, yellow and orange – the flowers seemed to
be dancing, too.
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The sight took my breath away. I had
