Catalyst(36)

CHAPTER 9



I sat crossed-legged on the edge of a ridge near the peak of the White Mountain. Nightfall engulfed me and the snow swirled around me. Often, after a day's training, I would find myself out here, escaping the confinement of the caves. It had helped at first. I breathed a little easier seeing the blue sky, the green forests, and the brown earth far below. But lately, being trapped so high above it all, I found those same sights depressing. The world's changing seasons reminded me that time moved on, while I was stuck in unending winter. The only way I knew time had passed was that Cynder teased me about my deepening voice, my sleeves exposed too much of my wrists, and I no longer had to look up at Master Stradus to meet his eyes.

Being outside also served another purpose. At first, I used practicing my power as an excuse to be outside. That's what I told Master Stradus I was doing. As time went on, my lie became the truth. Without my power, the weather would have torn me apart. As when I first climbed the mountain, I accessed my power and held onto it, letting it seep into every pore and warm my body. At first, it tired me just standing there. The more I went outside, the easier it became, until I sat on the ledge in the cold storm for hours.

I closed my eyes, ignoring the cold and frost that surrounded me. My breathing and heart slowed until I drowned the growl of the weather outside my body. I journeyed inside myself, heading towards the inner fire. The red and orange flame danced, moving and twisting like a firefly in the moonlight. It filled my very essence with its own. It was a strange yet familiar sensation, like we belonged together, as if we'd always been one. The flame changed colors, from a natural red and orange to an intense blue and black. The power surged within me. I knew I could do anything. But I was afraid the power would overwhelm me if I tried.

I held it for as long as I could. I got lost in it, and it became something else.

A baby eagle stands by his mother on the edge of a cliff. The mother nudges the baby with her beak, encouraging him to abandon the ledge and fly. The eaglet squawks in protest, but his mother forces him over the edge, sending him plummeting toward the ground. The baby eagle falls fast, flapping his wings in vain. The momentum is too great for him to handle. He’s going to crash into the ground. At the last second, his little wings catch the wind. He soars higher, higher into the open sky. He circles once, taking a last look at his mother, then heads off toward the horizon.

The eaglet changes shape. He’s no longer a feathered bird, but a bird made of fire, igniting the entire sky. His trail spells out my name as he soars towards me. He stares at me and gives an ear-shattering cry, shaking the heavens and the afterlife. He darts at my chest, burrowing and burning his way inside. I cry out as he fills me with power. Fire spews out of my eyes and mouth until I'm forced out of my trance.

I gazed up into the night sky, unsure of what I had seen. Everything I’d read about visions raced through my mind. Was I the eaglet? What was the vision telling me? A bright star streaked across the sky, and it looked like the baby bird.

I was still pondering over the meaning of my vision when another one flooded my mind. It was so forceful and strong I toppled over, face in the snow, and I blacked out.

The inferno erupts in front of me, gliding and floating in mid-air. I open my hand, and the fire leaps into it. I can sense its immense power, its scorching heat, and yet to me, it only feels warm. The flame rolls over me and caresses my skin. Its movement matches my breathing. I force my hand to remain steady. The fire disappears, melting into my body, adding its strength to my own. My inner-mana swirls with exultation. I no longer feel cold and alone. I feel alive and powerful. I can do anything.

My hand explodes. I hiss and turn my head to shield my eyes. A flame frees itself from my body and ruptures into a ball the size of my head. I stare at the renegade flame. It shifts and transforms, slowly changing into something recognizable. It looks like a human head but with wild, swaying hair.

The longer I gaze at it, the slower it burns, revealing itself piece by piece. The outline of a face appears, two gaping holes for eyes. The intense reds and oranges soften, peeling back until their colors change to flesh. The eyes burn hotter, hotter, until their centers grow blue, then purple.

And I recognize the face. It is her. She has haunted my dreams since the day we met. Drifting through my mind, planting herself into my thoughts until she gained a foothold. She has guided me in my most stressful times, helping me when I struggled with grasping a mana or saying an incantation. I have used her memory as fuel for what I have to do lest people like her get hurt. I have never known if I would never see her again, but I could never forget those soft violet eyes.