04-13-2022, 09:33 PM
i'll burn your name into my throat, i'll be the fire that'll catch you.
There is some unseen thread between them, he thinks. His father always scowls when he asks about the man with glowing eyes and dripping wings. But his mother is kind and she distracts him with her stories or a nice walk to the rivers and lakes he loves. Scourge has always adored the way the water hisses when it meets his skin. Anonya just enjoys the few moments she’s able to kiss her son’s forehead before he grows too warm to touch again.But today he will not be sated by distractions and affections. Today he waits until his parents are asleep before he goes creeping into the woods with the light of his own glowing eyes to guide him. He wanders until the forest canopy overhead is so thick that it chokes out the light from the moon and stars. There, in that perfect black, he watches two blue eyes open before him. Scourge’s breath catches in his throat but he bites back the fear. Another step forward. The eyes blink slowly, like a pleased housecat.
“Who are you?” he demands, but his voice cracks and his knees quake.
“Only a distant relative,” a voice answers beside him, startling him so he jumps back.
When he looks back to that thick darkness, nothing meets his gaze.
Slowly, foxfire blooms to life and Crowns emerges from behind the yearling boy. The magician says nothing as he comes to rest alongside the burning child.
“Why do you keep following me?” he asks in a whisper.
“Is that what I’m doing?” he laughs, hearty and full. “I suppose I’m bored and you just fascinate me.”
A long silence builds between them: the jack-o’-lantern and the jackal. Scourge can hear his heartbeat like a roar of thunder in his ears until Crowns finally speaks again.
“What is it you want from me, though? You’ve entertained me all this time and I’ve given you nothing in return.”
“I.. I want what you have.”
More laughter fills the air, so loud and shrill it sends the sleeping birds from their roosts. The sound sends a shiver running up Scourge’s spine and he tastes bile on the back of his tongue. This was a mistake. Whatever hatred his father had for this creature seemed earned, now. But the wish has been heard and the serpent is already coiling itself around his heart. Though he sees nothing touching him, his chest grows tight and he whimpers in fear. The boy can hardly hear the magician proclaiming his stipulations.
“Five years. You can borrow my strength for five years’ time, and in the end I’ll collect what’s mine. Keep fascinating me, Kindling.”
Before the pet name leaves Crowns’ mouth, he is already running. Thick vines strung between the trees like pythons try to hold him back but they burn and wither at his touch. He runs until that laughter echoes only in his skull and not in his ears. When the sun peeks over the horizon and he is sure his legs can carry him no further, he collapses at the Tephran border, alone and terrified by what he’s done.
