Black sparks slip through my fingers. I grasp the bar tighter, battling more as they try to emerge. I’m determined not to let loose my cursed flame, not in front of her, but the cold within me is deep and sharp as ice.
I can’t bring myself to respond. All I have is my own writhing panic, and beneath it all, a well of darkest dread.
“The fighting is getting worse,” she says, gaze trained on the floor. Her flat tone, stripped of its lilting song, is another shivering blade to my spine. “They have to draft in everyone they can. I know I should join them, and I know it’s right, but…” Her voice grows small, frail. “But I don’t want to leave.”
Every new word shudders through me. The fighting. Realisation dawns, and with it, a fresh rush of fear.
Only through her do I know of the war. Our kingdom’s struggle against another, the setbacks, the ruins, and the deaths. So many lives have been sacrificed already. So many have travelled to the battlefields, far out at the dwindling stronghold at the border, and never returned.
The girl before me could simply be another sacrifice. Another soldier to vanish forever.
It’s only when she flinches away do I notice that flames have fought their way through my fingers, flickering easily through the bars. She jolts to her feet at the same time I wrench my hands away, my throat constricting.
“I… I’m sorry,” I manage, clenching my fists until the fire retreats. This is her last visit, and I’ve managed to ruin it.
Yet more than ever I wish to let my flames flow without restraint. The darkness within me is excruciating, and when I look up at her, its flare rakes at my heart.
Slowly, I stand, keeping my distance from the bars. The fear in her eyes drifts away, more tears welling up to replace it.
“It’s okay,” she whispers, and this time it is her hand that wraps around a bar. Strands of her golden hair slip into my cell. She’s so close. A part of me longs to reach over and tuck that hair behind her ear, or brush her tears away, or simply let my hand coil around hers. But I know such thoughts are futile.
“I wish you could come with me,” she adds, the ghost of a smile passing over her. “I know it’s silly, but…”
I can only nod. I wish it too. I wish it every time she walks from here, and every moment after. Now, that wish is tearing me apart.
It passes through my mind, a flicker of a dream that can never be. The thought of her on the battlefield isn’t quite as terrible when I picture myself beside her. I could put my life to some use in fighting for the kingdom, in defending her. And if I died in the process, the world would be all the better for it.
I glance down at my hands, still speckled with darkness of my own making. She’s right, it is silly. I am a far greater danger to her than any battle could be.
“Thank you,” she says, and I look up to meet her eyes. She isn’t crying anymore, and though the fallen tears still glimmer, her eyes are as bright as they can be. “For being here.”
I chuckle dryly. “As if I can be anywhere else.”
“You know that’s not what I mean,” she protests, but she is smiling. “You’ve been… my friend.”
No fire can match the warmth that single word brings. I step forward. We are so close now, with only the bars and a thin stretch of safety between us. It would be so easy to reach out and touch her, but so difficult to keep hold of her afterward.
“And you mine,” I say. My voice is trembling. I doubt I can regain control of it, so I don’t try. “I should be thanking you. I…”
A shout cuts me off, booming from far ahead. It is shapeless, but she straightens at its echo, casting a nervous glance upwards. “I need to go.”
I nod. The thought is a bitter taste to my tongue, and difficult to swallow. She retracts from the bars, but I follow her, grabbing for them as if the motion will tug her back towards me. She hesitates, rocking back on her heels. Her will to leave is fragile.
“I’ll come back,” she says. The birdsong is precise, the notes strong and fierce. “I promise. I’ll come back when the war is won, and I’ll get you out of there.”
Her words jolt through me. They should sound overly optimistic, even ridiculous. She has told me of how far victory is from grasp. And even if we were to win, the likelihood of me ever stepping outside of this cell is incredibly slight.
Yet in that moment, I can’t help but share her surety. “I know you will. I trust you.”
Her hand reaches out to rest on the bar beside me, the barest distance between us. A spurt of flame could stretch out to sweep over her skin so easily. But I remain still. She trusts me too.
The booming voice sounds again, closer this time. She jerks backwards, and regret weighs on my shoulders. I stare after her. This could be the last time I ever see her. What do I say?
No, not the last time. She will return. I have faith in her promise.
Our parting is soundless. One last sunbeam of a smile, and she is gone, lost to the shadows.
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