Page 5 of Emergence of Fire
“Are you going to tell me what happened tonight?” She asks with the same urgency she had when she called. I know that she has no powers but in moments like this, sometimes I wonder.
“Yes, I will. You may think I’m losing my mind once I start talking though.” I turn and make my way up the stairs lost in thought. She’s probably going to have me committed by the time I finish telling her everything.
“You’d be surprised.” She sighs. “Delia, your bag.” She says, I can’t believe I absently forgot she was holding it.
“It all smells of smoke anyway. I will just grab something from my closet. I am sure there is something comfortable to wear.” I trudge up the stairs, letting my feet carry me toward my bedroom. As I walk into my room the comfort of my teenage years stares back at me like a shrine. Nothing has changed in all this time. I am sure Aunt Twyla cleans and changes my bedding, but everything is just the way I left it.
“I need to come home more often.” I say to myself as I make my way to the closet and grab an old oversize pajama onesie in the shape of a unicorn. It has a tail and everything. I throw it over my shoulder with a shrug because it was comfortable, it was my favorite thing to sleep in when I was younger, and I’m sure it will still fit. Winning. I cross the hall to the bathroom and quickly take the hottest shower I can. I watch the grey water swirl down the drain until it runs clear, scrubbing my body and hair until I was certain the evidence of my night is gone.
I wish I could wash away everything I witnessed in my dream and the memory of how the fire surrounded me in my bed whilst I was sleeping. I turn the water off and step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my body as I approach the mirror. Wiping the condensation away I gasp at the sight before me. I stumble backward in shock, my back hitting the wall as gold eyes stare back at me. My eyes. Gold reptilian orbs, that have violet vertical pupils, shaped like lightning bolts. What the ever-loving hell? I wonder as I slowly approach the mirror hoping that maybe, just maybe, I was seeing things. Leaning closer to get a better look, I reach up, with a shaky hand I pull down my bottom lid slightly. The same eyes from my dream are staring back at me.
“What the fuck is happening to me?” I say to myself as I blink my eyes rapidly, trying to erase what I see. How do I explain this? I can’t tell my Aunt Twyla. I think I am having a psychotic episode. This just can’t be real. I look back at the mirror again and my eyes are back to their normal shade of brown.
“Oh, thank goodness,” I say out loud. I dry myself in a hurry and practically run out of the bathroom. I don’t know what just happened back there, but I want no part of it. My body shakes involuntarily more from fear than cold. I am afraid and need help.
“Delia, are you alright up there?” I hear Aunt Twyla yell from downstairs. How does she always know when something is wrong?
“I’m fine. I will be down in a minute.” I am not fine Aunt Twyla, something is happening to me, something I can’t explain.
* * *
I look downat the steaming cup of coffee in my hands as I try to form words in my mouth. Aunt Twyla leans against the kitchen counter while she watches me at the kitchen table as she dips her tea infuser full of dried chamomile. Her bright blue eyes wait patiently for me to begin, her long brown hair she never cuts sticks out of a messy bun, a few grey hairs are starting to show. I notice under her long purple night gown she fidgets with nervous energy as she shifts from foot to foot. I clear my throat, take a sip of my coffee, and I begin.
“Remember when I told you I’d been having strange dreams lately?” She nods her head and blows on her tea, before dumping her infuser in the sink behind her. “Well, it’s always the same dream or variations of the same dream. It has always played out the same way every night until tonight.” The dream replays in my head as I stop briefly to collect myself.
“What happened tonight?” She asks, as her eyes search mine. She offers me a sad smile of encouragement and I continue.
“Tonight, the dream went further than it normally does and I saw—I saw Dragons, Aunt Twyla. A Red Dragon. Then she breathed on me, and I was in so much pain, it was agonizing. I was so scared, then I was on fire, and fire came out of my hands. My hands.” I threw my hands in the air watching her eyes open wide in shock, or surprise at what I was saying. “But that wasn’t the worst part. I woke up to my bed on fire—with me in it. The fire was climbing up my legs but I didn’t burn.” I let the details of the dream rush out of me in what felt like one breath, only focusing on the main points. I didn’t want to talk about the bones under my feet, or the dead bodies of people and Dragons on the ground. I shudder at the memory of the skull in my hands. The sudden sound of a shattering glass teacup brings my focus back to the kitchen.
“It’s not supposed to be possible. You were safe here.” She sounds frantic as she scrambles over the broken pieces of the cup and heads to the utility closet. I watch her pull out a broom and dustpan, she is clearly shaken as she hurries to clean up the mess. No, I take that back. She’s worried. About what, I have no idea.
“Come again? What’s not supposed to happen?” I am even more confused than I was before I came down here. I watch her clean up the pieces, beating myself up for not jumping into action to help her.
“Cordelia, you are stronger than any of us expected. You were supposed to be hidden here but it seems your Dragon has other plans.” She picks up the dustpan and leans on the broom as she observes me for a brief moment. Her eyes brim with tears but she turns quickly, hurries over to the trashcan and dumps the broken teacup. With her back to me she takes a moment to collect her breath, wipes her face quickly before turning back and giving me a sad smile. My gut tells me this is where the real story begins.
I sigh as I place my cup on the kitchen table and make one more confession. “When I got out of the shower just now, I looked in the mirror, and my eyes were different.” I tell her. She crosses the room and sits across from me.
“Different? How?” She asks, as if she already knows the answer but needs me to confirm her suspicions.
I swallow around the lump in my throat. My tears begin to fall freely and my hands shake as I try to comprehend what I see. I see my Dragon’s eyes, my eyes became her eyes.
“If what you're saying is true, I was looking at me. My eyes are her eyes. How is any of this possible? I feel like I’m losing my mind.” I drop my head in my hands and I weep. I am so overwhelmed, and I break like a dam. I feel Aunt Twyla’s hands wrap around mine and she pulls them away from my face.
“Let me start from the beginning.” She says softly. “I will tell you everything. I just want you to know that I did my best to prevent this from happening. This is not what your mother wanted, Cordelia. She didn’t anticipate your Dragon’s will, and neither did I.” She squeezes my hand and wipes away her tears as well.
I only have one question on the tip of my tongue now and I hope she will start with that. Even though a part of me screams for me to just ignore all of this and put my head in the sand. The question falls out of my mouth before my fear gets the better of me.
“Who, or what am I?”
CHAPTERFOUR
TWYLA
“Who, or what am I?” She blows out a shaky breath and my heart breaks for the beautiful woman in front of me. If I felt her strength, then others will soon follow. When I say others, I mean the Black Barons. I know in my heart Thaddeus has never stopped searching, and I instantly go into a defensive mode. The first thing I did after I told her to come home was drop a protective shield over this house. There was a reason why I picked a place in the middle of nowhere. I guess a part of me has always known this day would come. Every year that passed made a small part of me worry less and less but the threat always hung over our heads.
Cordelia looks back at me, her eyes are red rimmed, her tear-stained face expecting me to speak at any moment. I hate the fear in her eyes, and how she had been left in the dark about all of this. This is unknown territory for me. I can’t help but chuckle softly at the irony of the unicorn onesie she’s wearing from ten Christmases ago. The hood is pulled over her head with a gigantic pink, green, and blue iridescent horn on top. Like the elusive mythical creature, she too is rare and highly sought after by those who wish to destroy her, or harness her power. There is no going back, and nothing I can do to stop the wheels from turning. Someone will come for her, and I hope with every fiber of my being that it will be her mates and not someone who wishes to do her harm. She’s not ready to face the enemy. Not yet. I sigh and begin.
“You are Cordelia Drake, the Red Fire Dragon, and Queen of Arcadia,” I say to her, watching her face for a moment before her head tips back and she howls with laughter. I guess I can’t blame her. I am sure if the shoe was on the other foot I would laugh as well. After a bit the laughter dies down and she wipes away more tears that have fallen and clears her throat.
