Herah felt a simmering anger. Not at Rose, but at herself. Picking a losing fight, then losing the fight couldn’t earn her any respect. Especially in the name of La Flamme. But underneath that anger sat another emotion, one far more important.
Satisfaction.
“My question.”
The artist could feel her teacher blink at her, Rose’s scent gaining a buttery whiff weaker than earlier, more like popcorn that had been cooling for a minute or two.
Satisfaction was what Herah smelled from her teacher. Where pleasure felt toxic and overwhelmed other emotions, satisfaction coexisted without issue alongside any other.
Rose walked up to the artist and leaned down till they were eye to eye.
“That fear you smell, is worry. I’m worried about you, Herah.”
The artist blinked at her teacher, her mouth open but words eluding her. Rose, well anyone but her parents and goddess worrying about her struck Herah as odd. While a tight-knit people at one point, modern day Cendreux didn’t often care to worry about anyone not related by flame. As the common saying went: Hold reverence for all the greats above you, hold no pity or worry for but the kin below.
Do you think of me as family, Rose? the artist wondered silently, Like our goddess wishes for all of us to do?
Rose smirked before leaning back up and turning away from Herah.
Worry, the artist thought with a small chuckle, That’s why the fear smells oddly faint. Worry is a form of fear.
“Why?” Herah asked, still not moving.
The cackle of electricity, the whir of sharp things cutting through the air, and the crunch and groan of metal bending hit the artist’s ears before Rose leaned back over and offered her a marble-sized grey lump. It smelled of iron and steel. Herah took it, the metal heavy and dense in her hand. Sitting up, the artist stuffed the ball into her mouth and chewed. Her teeth crushed and grinded up the thick metal as it melted before her throat swallowed. Her body grew warmer, aches and pain fading as her flame grew from a spark and into a raging inferno waiting to spill out once more.
“Because,” Rose offered Herah an arm up, the artist taking it with a nod of thanks, “You’ve been selected for something bigger than anything you’ve ever imagined, and I had no idea how I could help you.”
“What is it?”
“I can’t tell you,” The teacher said with a shake of her head, “It’d ruin their surprise.”
“Whose?”
“The figure from your dreams you’ve been trying to draw.”
Herah froze, her flame burning cold as her mind raced and connected dots.
That fuzzy arm is the same exact one from my dreams! But I haven’t even told my father, how would Rose know? It couldn’t have been my sketch earlier, unless maybe her dreams are haunted too?
Smoke shot from the artist’s ears in thick puffs, as more and more thoughts ran through her mind. Until finally, her mouth caught up once again and a single question emerged.
“Who- What are they?”
Rose shook her head again.
“That would ruin their surprise as well.”
Herah growled, green fire jetting from flaring nostrils.
“Lots of non-answers.”
Rose nodded, her scent turning sweet and cool, like cookies no longer fresh.
Amusement? Really? the artist thought, huffing more green fire.
“Because that isn’t the help I sought to give.”
“What is?”
Rose tilted her head to the side then flourished her wings, sending out a gust that cleared the air of ash once more. The pair still stood within the ring, Herah seeing Brun and his students hiding outside the ruined door to the gym.
“How do you think I won, Herah?” Rose asked, gesturing between the two.
“You somehow figured out my final attack.”
“Somehow?” Rose raised an amused brow before tapping her chest, right over where her flame should sit. “Have you forgotten one of La Flamme’s six blessings, child?”
The artist frowned for a moment, insulted by the implications of the questions.
Of course, I know all six blessings. Rebirth, restoration, resilience, immortality, inimmolation, and-
Herah groaned, realizing the forgotten blessing.
“Revelation, fuck!” the artist smacked her forehead, “Our mistress’s gift to sense flames. I bring shame upon her and myself.”
Rose let out a snort, getting a glare in response.
“As one who sings her praise endlessly, odd for you to not remember.”
Herah sighed, looking away from Rose so as to not show her blush.
“You said no fire or science. Everything involving either idea was dismissed.”
The artist could feel her teacher shaking her head.
“You shouldn’t narrow your sights so much you forget the little things. I sensed your fire condensing in your fist and gauged how fast you could move it.”
Herah frowned.
“I didn’t go full-speed till my last attack.”
“True, but our flames react involuntarily to sudden stimuli.” Rose said, the artist smelling her grin as the teacher leaned in. “So, if you weren’t prepared in the slightest for an attack...”
Herah froze up, her mind instantly racing to the first moment that truly surprised her in the fight.
That fucking table! You used it to bait me.
“After that, I smelled you to intercept your attack when you threw it.”
The artist cringed, realizing Rose’s ability to smell her actions had also been forgotten. Another notch of shame to add to her belt.
“By the way,” Rose’s words caused Herah to look back at her teacher, who smiled and blew fire at the artist’s feet. “Mach three-fifty-two for your max speed, you’re faster than Cendreux tens of years older than you.”
Herah blushed again, this time not in embarrassment. To blow flames at another’s feet, spoke of impressment.
The artist liked impressing Rose.
“I have good training.” Herah said, with a wide grin.
“So, you’d never be imprisoned again?”
The artist’s grin died as memories from years ago nearly jumped to the forefront of her mind. But Herah did not wish to remember at the moment, so banished her memories back to her flame where they lived immortal.
“That the help you mean to give?” the artist asked, her expression blank.
“Only part of it.” Rose responded, her scent gaining a faint soft, but heavy smell like wet fur. If not so faint, Herah would’ve presumed it sadness but no, Rose felt sorry.
No need to feel sorry for my weakness, Feu Rose. I’m not that weak anymore.
The artist did not say this, instead Herah kept moving forward in the conversation.
“The rest?”
“Why do you think I called the Old Ways a game?”
“You no longer respect me.” the artist said, no hesitation or uncertainty in her words.
A chuckle and head-shake from her teacher put both in Herah’s head.
“Just a ploy,” Rose said, resting her two-ertèmasstick on the ring and leaning upon it, “That entire lead up to you challenging me was only to goad you into battle.”
The artist’s eyes widened as another realization hit her.
What Rose was searching for in her before the fight.
“That’s what you sought, my limits. And that’s also why you ended The Deal.”
Rose nodded.
“After the Vertcend and Bleucend situation, I knew you wouldn’t fight as long as our deal stood. You’re a problem and a menace to this academy, Herah. But your drive and spirit can keep your actions in check. I’m old fashioned enough to respect you for wielding them so well. In your battles to come, those two will be your most important weapons, but as you can see with how you picked a losing battle, they will also be your greatest vulnerabilities. As long as you’re alone that is.”
Herah glowered and growled at her teacher, not liking that last bit.
“What does that mean?”
Rose snorted again, leaning towards the artist.
“You and I are very similar, child. Our willingness to pick fights, our dedication to keeping our word, our belief in what we see as right. But…”
“But?”
“While me and you are similar, there is one big difference that sets us apart.”
Rose leaned back up and placed a hand against her chest while pointing at Herah with the other.
“I’m strong and you’re weak.”
Before the artist could vocalize any anger, Rose raised her pointed finger, causing Herah to pause.
“Which is to be expected, you are a child. What is not expected is for you to act like an adult. When we Cendreux are too weak alone, we fight together. That is what brought us together in the Éteindre Guerres. And for what you want, you’ll always be too weak alone.”
The artist wanted to say some rebuke, but none came to mind. Her teacher wasn’t saying something Herah didn’t already know. Just something the artist hadn’t found the answer to yet.
An answer that’s possible at least.
Herah shook her head, and instead of admitting anything, turned her nose up at Rose.
“Meaning?”
“You’re not stupid, Herah. You know what I mean.”
The artist sighed out another cloud of smoke, crossing her arms and frowning at her teacher’s implications.
“Finding allies is hard when heretics surround on all sides.”
Rose reached out to Herah and tapped her above the brow with her pinky, like earlier before they fought.
The artist swiped at the finger with a growl.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“You touch me like you’re my mother.”
“Grandmother would be more accurate, in a way.”
Herah tsked, unamused at Rose’s odd joke.
“Too young.”
“You think.”
The artist scrunched her nose and huffed green fire in growing anger.
“You have something to say?”
Rose sighed and shook her head again.
“To get back to my point, I wish you’d understand that for many, it’s not enough that La Flamme made us. There are many gods which have made life, and trust me, plenty of them deserve neither love nor worship from their creations. If you want others to really see it how you do, focus on more than that.”
Herah frowned.
“What do you mean by deserving no love or worship?”
Rose gained an odd look, her brows crunching up while her lips thinned into a line. Her smell shifted towards a scent that the artist couldn’t make sense of. It was neither sharp nor dull, hard nor soft, spicy nor sweet. No sensation could describe what Rose smelled of, much less words.
Feu Rose, Herah thought utterly bewildered, What is going on with you?
“We Cendreux have the advantage of a loving goddess being our maker,” Rose gained a far off look, “That is not the standard.”
The artist said nothing, confused both by Rose’s mood and her words. It had never crossed her mind a god of any type not loving their creations.
To create something is an act of love after all. That’s why La Flamme made us. Herah looked down to her own hands. That’s why I make everything I do.
“You seem befuddled.” Rose’s words made the artist look back up to a smile, her teacher’s scent back to normal. “Not surprised. It’s a weird thing for you to wrap your head around, I’m sure. You’ll realize what I mean soon enough.”
Herah, having grown tired of trying to figure out what Rose aimed for, sighed out another cloud of smoke.
“This the help you mean?”
“Essentially. Though I do have a question.”
“What?” the artist asked, exhausted.
Rose tapped her nose.
“You seemed satisfied at your loss, why?”
Herah regarded the question for a moment before keeling over in laughter, green flames puffing out and onto the ring with every laugh. The artist could smell Rose’s scent shift towards confusion causing her laughter to deepen.
Utterly absurd! Me being okay with defeat.
After a short while, Herah’s laughter died and the artist rose back up, wiping tears from her eyes and face. Her nose twitched as Rose’s scent shifted towards the faint spiciness of annoyance. Looking back up to her teacher, Herah saw no amusement in her expression. Caring only a smidge about her teacher’s look, the artist placed a hand against her own chest and tried to make her words come out with the respect Rose deserved.
“I’ll never be satisfied with losing, Feu Rose. It won’t stop me from being pleased at winning.
One of Rose’s brows went up.
“Winning what?”
“Even as a ploy to get me to pick a fight, you still acted under the Old Ways when you accepted my challenge. That is my victory.” Herah dropped her hand and tilted her head to the side, running her eyes up and down Rose. “How did it feel?”
Rose didn’t immediately respond, but her scent shifting to bring back to the forefront the buttery smell of satisfaction told the artist her answer.
“Honestly, it was nice.” Rose said with a smile and rub of her nose, “I’ve been wanting to cool your flame for a long while.”
The artist grinned back in turn, her smile as wide as it could be.
“Exactly!” Herah spoke with fervor and zeal reserved only for La Flamme’s praise, “There’s so much the Old Ways can give us to not just enjoy life better but be honest with ourselves. By maintaining them, we can lead the lives that our grand goddess La Flamme meant for all Cendreux to lead.”
The artist inhaled deeply, internally increasing her fire’s temperature.
It turned from green to blue to indigo.
Herah let out a long breath. From her lips, indigo flames flowed in a flaming thread that spun itself into a ball of fire no larger than the artist’s fist. Cupping the fireball in her palms, Herah willed the fire to both cool and change its shape.
Four thick strands of indigo flames puffed out on all sides of a shrinking ball of fire, bending into crescents that surrounded it. As the fireball turned blue and shrunk more, it puffed out four petals each the size of a finger and shaped like a trapezoid. These blue petals tumbled through the air, rising to the top of each thread of indigo and attaching themselves. Now, the indigo flames appeared as stems to four blue petals touching only their innermost corners and leaving a small circular gap in between. And as the ball of flames kept shrinking, it turned from blue to green to yellow to orange. Until finally, a pebble-sized, red flaming bead sat in the artist’s palms. The red fireball floated up while the unconnected ends of the indigo stems connected beneath it, forming a net. And as the fireball kept floating up towards the blue petals, the stem net of the indigo flames started to merge together beneath. Once the flaming bead fit into the hole between the blue petals and the indigo united into a single stem, a flower of fire floated over Herah’s hands.
A wisp lantern, a symbol of the Old Ways.
The artist took the stem of the flower between her thumb and middle finger then held it out to Rose.
“And if I can show that to you, then I can show that to everyone.”
Rose looked at the flower, then back up to Herah. Smoke abruptly clouded Rose’s scent, obscuring the artist’s ability to sniff out her emotions as the teacher’s lips thinned and her expression grew flat.
Using Kapnosology to hide your scent? Herah flared her nostrils, neither smoke nor fire leaving them. Fair enough, an offer of Ravivant isn’t something normally to be quickly decided upon.
Ravivant, or Rekindling, meant firmly accepting and stepping back into the old ways. It meant becoming a Brule (what the Cendreux called the social caste of their society who still worshiped La Flamme). Far from the most desirable distinction to have.
Rose smiled and shook her head.
“Your approach needs work, child.”
Fair. The artist felt anger bubble to the surface again, all aimed at herself. Because of my weakness, I was unable to show the full glory of La Flamme. I have no right to ask you to welcome her back in fully yet.
Herah let the wisp lantern disperse.
“Right.” The artist smiled back. “But one day, I’ll see us all return to our roots.”
“You mean the worship of La Flamme? That’s really what you want from all of us.”
Herah shrugged at Rose’s words.
“The Old Ways and worship of our mistress are one and the same, Feu Rose.”
“Interesting you think that.”
The artist tilted her head to the side, frowning to herself.
“Meaning?”
Rose ignored Herah’s question and let out a deep sigh.
“Hate that us getting what we wanted from each other took making such a mess.”
Mildly annoyed at being ignored, more smoke jetted from the artist’s nose as Herah crossed her arms.
“Worth it.”
“You say that now before you deal with the consequences.”
The artist let out a snort, rolling her eyes before a smell reminiscent of charred wood and raw fat graced her nose. Knowing who approached, Herah frowned and faced the ruined gym doors where Feu Brun and his class now stood nervously.
“I wish! I’ve never dealt with consequences here.”
“He-” Rose froze then whipped around towards the doorway and dropped to her knees in the corner of the artist’s eye.
Herah also saw students and Feu Brun just outside the gym's doorway part and drop to their knees before a figure appeared.
“Trust me étincelle,” a masculine voice, deep and base-filled, fell upon the artist, “You do not want consequence for your actions.”
Noir, why must the greatest disappointment in this school show up now?
“Bonjour,” Herah gave the curtest nod possible towards her principal, “Le Froid bothers us.”
“Herah!” Rose shouted from her kneeling position, eyes to the floor, “You know that isn’t how you are to speak to a Neutron!”
Standing in the doorway to the gym, a silex at the imposing height of nine-two glared down upon the artist with pearl eyes. Unlike modern day Cendreux, onyx scales covered every inch of his skin and ate any light that hit them. This, Herah stubbornly accepted, paired well with the all-white sleeveless suit that the principal always wore. It allowed arms as thick as steel beams and rippling muscle to show off while legs as equally thick were hidden. Noir adjusted the collar of his shirt while approaching the artist and her teacher, his forked tail swishing angrily through the air behind him.
Herah said nothing to the approaching principal, instead turning to Rose and crossing her arms.
“Feu Rose, while I might now put myself under your tutelage, that does not change my feelings towards the rest of those within this academy.”
Before Rose could utter any response, Noir had reached the pair and now towered over the artist, still glaring.
Herah returned his glare.
“Causing a ruckus so casually, have you forgotten your Deal?” Noir asked with a growl, indigo flames flaring from his nostrils.
“Neutron Noir,” Rose spoke to the ground, “I recently released Herah from the obligation.
Noir turned his glare to Rose, huffing a cloud of indigo fire.
“Why?” Noir spoke the world with a snarl.
Rose lifted her head and held Noir’s gaze, the artist unable to smell any hint of fear in her teacher as the principal domineered over her. Herah grinned at this gracing her..
“I felt it had served its purpose.”
“Couldn’t have checked with me first?” Noir sneered.
“The Deal’s creation and existence was always between me and Herah, Neutron Noir.” Rose’s tone refused to shift. “Neither you nor anyone else had a place in deciding when it ended.”
Noir let out a bark of laughter, before baring his fangs and leaning down to Rose’s level.
“Yet it is my school which has been wrecked because of it ending.”
Rose finally dropped her head, touching it to the ground at Noir’s feat. The artist frowned at Rose.
You shouldn’t bow your head to such a coward.
“And I do apologize for it, Neutron Noir. I will gladly take any retribution you wish to carry against me for my decisions.”
Noir huffed more indigo fire before leaning up and looking around. After a few silent seconds of observing the destruction, the principal looked back down to Rose.
“Salary reduced to a fourth for the rest of the season to cover the expenses of repairing and a duel at the start of next season.”
“And me?”
Noir turned to Herah with a look that only spoke of disgust and rage. Yet, his scent showed none of that. It revealed nothing about how the principal felt, instead becoming obscured by smoke.
Of course, the coward would hide his emotions.
“The problem of this situation lies at Rose’s feet, not yours étincelle.”
The artist returned Noir’s look in kind, feeling her entire body warm as her disgust and anger rose.
“I’m the one who started the fight, ruined Rose’s classroom, stabbed into Or’s classroom, clawed the hallway walls, tore a trench in the bottom floor, melted a cafeteria table, and destroyed the gym doors.”
Noir raised his chin at Herah, nostrils flaring as jets of indigo flames blasted from them.
“I’ll talk to your father then and let him handle you.”
The artist copied Noir’s actions, only with jets of blue fire instead as both her anger and disgust continued to rise.
“Which’ll be nothing ‘cause my father hasn’t been slighted. You have, Noir. And my parents left punishing me for my slights to your discretion. As is Cendreux way, old and new.”
Noir snarled.
“This isn’t about you right now, it’s about Rose!”
Herah snarled back, her skin feeling as if it wanted to boil from the heat of the flames beneath it.
“Liar.”
Noir’s eyes widened and the principal leaned back in shock. Then, Noir leaned in and opened his mouth to reveal indigo fire pouring out in a torrent that engulfed his head in flames.
“What did you say?”
Finally, the artist felt her rage peak. Eyes narrowing, Herah placed her forehead squarely against her principal’s, indigo fire engulfing her head the same way Noir’s engulfed his.
“I’ve done far more to insult you in this conversation alone than Feu Rose ever has, yet only my teacher has useless currency taken from her and a fight that only exists so you can act like you’re as hot as lava when you’re really as cold as ice. Why is that?”
“I will not be talked down to by an étincelle!”
The artist backed off from Noir and let her flames disperse without her fire cooling. The youngling leaned forward, placing both hands on her chest and tilting her head with a hiss.
“Then bash my skull in and prove to me you deserve my respect.”
For a single breath, Herah waited for a reaction. Out of the corner of her eye, the artist noticed Rose’s mouth opening and closing while the teacher looked between her and Noir. Smoke now gone, the way Rose’s scent rippled and fluctuated wildly told Herah how stunned the teacher felt. Noir, on the other hand, still hid his scent and now had his face hidden by fire so the only sign of his true feelings hid within the twitching of his left hand in and out of a fist. When the breath passed, the artist sneered at her principal and leaned back up.
“Until then, you will get nothing from me.
Noir’s fire dispersed and the principal sighed with closed eyes.
“I can’t believe I put up with you. The only reason I accepted you in this academy was my son.”
Herah curled her lips and let out a tch, feeling as unwanted memories tried to push to the surface again. Once more, the artist pushed them back down.
“Blanccend is the only reason I accepted coming here in the first place. Looks like we’re both disappointed, Liar.”
Noir turned his bare back to Herah and started walking away, his next words spoken in a whisper.
“I can’t believe my son died, and you lived.”
“Neutron Noir!” Rose shouted, finally knocked from her stunned silence.
But the artist didn’t hear her teacher. Instead, Herah heard Noir’s words on repeat in her mind.
I can’t believe my son died, and you lived.
I can’t believe my son died, and you lived.
I can’t believe my son died, and you lived.
I can’t believe Argentcend died, and you lived.
The artist felt whiplash at that last thought, words said to her not by Noir but by an old friend.
An old friend who died before her eyes eight cycles ago.
Before anymore could come to her mind, Herah had to stop it.
SPLITCH!
So, the artist jammed a thumb right into her left eye. The warm blood dripping down her face relieved none of the throbbing pain that Herah felt where a wall of darkness now resided in her vision. But both feelings were enough to keep the artist from reliving memories that hadn’t been observed in years.
Neither feeling assuaged Herah’s further mounting rage, rising to such a surprising height that the artist could feel her flame starting to shift towards violet.
The one color of fire forbidden in public.
Luckily, instead of letting her flame get hotter, Herah let her mouth fly.
“I can’t believe my best friend has such a pathetic Cendreux for a father!”
The artist spoke each word with a spew of indigo flames tinged purple.
“Herah!” Rose looked at the artist appalled.
Noir froze, his tail going rigid over his head. The principal turned back towards Herah, a coldness to his glare that on a pure instinctual level made the artist feel like an invisible blade rested against her throat.
“Étincelle, you will apologize.”
Without thought, Herah removed her thumb from her eye, locked sights with Noir, and pressed that invisible blade deeper into her neck.
“Or what?”
“I can have you expelled.”
“So do it!”
A pregnant pause filled the air. The artist glared at Noir, Noir glared back, and Rose looked between both. Herah waited for her principal to say the word, to toss her out, to do anything.
But Noir just stood there.
The artist only felt angrier.
You insult me with lies, cowardice, and hypocrisy, then demand an apology. What a maddening thought!
“Why don’t you!?”
Noir glanced away.
“I respect your father too much.”
A profound disgust welled up inside Herah, as if Noir had shit the bed in front of her.
“Don’t you dare use my father to lie!” the artist shouted with a stomp that cracked the ring beneath her, “I’ve smelled your fear when Dad’s around. And while I don’t know why, I do know that fear keeps me here.”
Herah marched up to Noir, reared her fist back, and punched her principal right in the chin.
His head budged not an inch and the scales on the artist’s fist cracked against Noir’s. But Herah didn’t need to hurt or even move Noir.
The artist just needed to make a statement.
“I can never respect someone whose fear of anything but me, kept them from being honest.”
“Herah!”
Rose stepped forward just as Herah dropped her arm, turned back to her teacher, and bowed.
“Feu Rose, I’m sorry but I won’t be coming back to class on Croissante.”
“Why?”
The artist rose from her bow.
“I’m no longer a student here.”
Herah felt Noir start next to her.
“I didn’t expel you.”
The artist didn’t even glance at the principal, instead locking eyes with Rose who seemed to immediately realize what came next.
“I quit.”
Herah blew flames at Rose’s feet and smiled at the teacher.
“I’ll talk to you after my duel with Vertcend and Bleucend, Feu Rose. I have questions about what you know.”
The artist turned around and marched right past a stunned Noir. Only after Herah got to the gym’s destroyed doorway, did the principal start.
“Herah! Herah come back here!”
“No.”
The artist marched down the ruined hall and passed stunned ex-peers and teachers while looking through them all with such clear focus nary a thought entered her mind. Only once Herah stepped out of Noir E. Blanc Academy and into the heavy ashfall of midday did this focus break as a question came to her mind.
How did Rose know I was kidnapped?