CHAPTER I - Set fire to my Soul

“Control yourself!" Florian yelled.

"What does it look like I'm trying to do?!"

Fire in the blood, and fire in the lungs. Flames at my fingertips, my palms and my thumbs.

Aurae could feel the burn of the blaze against her hands as it blew into a giant, inferno monster. Crackling embers spat out like shards of broken glass, and the fire roared like a wild beast set loose. Savage, vengeful, and flaring with hunger.

"You're making it worse you stupid vefaria! Don't go near the bookshelves or you might-"

She could hear Florian shouting across the hall, and perhaps she would have known what he were saying if she were not flapping her arms around like a rogue ostrich, only to have the flames latch onto the very shelves she had been told to avoid. The fire flashed and travelled up the wrinkled wood until the shelf was consumed entirely. Books burned and scrolls seared,"...set the scriptures on fire."

The screeches of viola and banging of leather-top drums shook the cathedral that morning, as fire spread throughout the aged walls of the Komidraya. The symphonies emitted from the orchestra became disoriented squabbles of noise, until they were replaced by the screams of musicians who stopped and ran for the exits. Shelves collapsed, and the floors were flattened by the herds of feet trampling back and forth in a desperate attempt to escape the situation.

Florian let out an exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had been warned previously that this particular apprentice could be a handful, but dear lord, he had not expected this. The burning of a literal landmark; the disintegration of ancient scrolls and texts alike.

"This isn't even my fault! Nobody told me there would be fire!" Aurae screamed.

"It is an elemental manipulation exam, what did you expect?!" Florian kicked his heel into the ground and lifted his palms. He uttered words of magic, and from the earth beneath his feet, a strong gust of wind gathered and spiralled around his black boots. The ends of his dark cape fluttered around his torso, and the forming winds whistled like the mountain-top hurricanes. With swiftly moving arms, he directed the winds up and down into a fountain, where the air swept up a wave of crystal-cold water. Florian hurled the wave towards Aurae’s direction. Before she knew it, she was completely drenched. The fire in her hands extinguished with a loud hiss, and the stinging ceased.

"Go, see yourself to the Arakya immediately!" Florian ordered, and Aurae felt her brows furrow.

"What about this mess?! Do you not want me to help?”

The scent of burning filled the air, until there was nothing left to breathe but smoke and ash, "You've helped enough. Now go! I will be having a word with you once this is all over."

The girl felt a sharp sting pricking at her chest, one that was far too familiar. The aching anger and frustration, of having no control. She watched as Florian descended into the smoky pits of the Komidraya, where he would continue to put out the fire while flashing his heroic cape. He was always so well respected for cleaning up after her actions. Meanwhile, Aurae would be scorned, and loathed for yet another loss of control.

Indeed, this wasn't the first time something like this had happened. A couple of years ago, she had asked to help in a bakery by the riverside, which resulted in bread so burned it crumbled like charcoal. No one ate there since then.

Another time, she had set aflame Madame Mei’s favourite apple tree, ruined the bonfires during the High Witch's rituals. Whenever she ironed clothes, the fabric became crispy. When she lit matches, the flames flared white, and sparked upon touch.

Sometimes, Aurae would sit beside the frozen lakes and wonder if she had been cursed with bad luck. She did not specialise in fire control, in fact, it was the one element that she feared. She was not an arsonist. Nor was anyone she knew.

"So how is it, that you, Miss Aurae, keep setting things up in flames?” Madame Mei asked her that evening. She was a tall, middle-aged lady, who sat proudly at her coffee-polished desk. Mei was known as the Arakya - it was one of her many titles. The word derived from the divine language; it meant spider. A creature who had mastered the art of weaving, and spun threads as silky as the sea. They said she had eight eyes that watched over the village, and no secrets could be kept from her gaze. Whenever something went wrong, she knew... and it was her work to sort any issues on behalf of the High Witch. It seemed Aurae was often involved with a lot of the issues she'd have to resolve, so they were well acquainted, one could say.

"Madame Mei... sometimes I think there is something wrong with me."

"How so, dear child?"

"Well," Aurae exhaled sharply; she wondered how to put her thoughts into words, "Whenever I try to do any magic-"

"Spirit-weaving,” she corrected hastily, “Magic is an inaccurate and distasteful word. It is used by those who do not understand the arts of the vefarié.”

Aurae paused briefly, "…Whenever I try to weave, it always goes wrong. It's like a whole other entity, controlling me than me controlling it. And it always feels so... explosive, and angry, like- like..."

"Like fire, dear?"

She nodded. Exactly like fire - and not the still, swaying sort. The blowing, and burning sort.

"Don't overthink it, dear one," she started, "We are all born with a certain type of spirit that shapes our weaving. It's part of who we are. As you know, those with a gentler spirit become healers, or diviners. Those with powerful spirits learn to fight, become our best soldiers, or use their weaving to blow the clouds and change the weathers. Everyone has their talents; everyone has their place."

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"So, what you're saying is, I have a more powerful spirit?..."

"Perhaps," Madame Mei continued to pet her cat, "It's completely normal, especially during our youth, that our spirit becomes more, well, fiery. Some more than others."

Normal. Aurae couldn't help but feel a little disregarded, "But the other vefarié don't set buildings on fire," she stated frigidly.

"And thank Veifa for that," Mei threw her webby black hair over her shoulder, "Or our village would cease to exist."

Just then, the doors swung open, and a gust of winter air hit the room like a truck. A dark figure hurled itself inside. In its arms were a stack of weighty books and crumbled papers, that towered so high you could hardly see the person's face. Though there was no mistaking the hefty, black boots - Aurae could recognise those from anywhere.

"The door, Florian! Are you trying to freeze us all to death?!" Mei snapped as the pillar of literature was dropped down onto her desk with a slam.

From behind, Aurae could finally make out the tired expression of Florian. His sage-green hair was stained with ash, and patches of black dust were imprinted onto his face. As for his clothes... well, she could not tell, because they were all black, anyway, “These scriptures made it out safely."

Madame Mei’s eyes widened, and she stood. Her cat flung off her lap with a sharp yowl. With her pointed fingers, she flicked through the pile, scanning over the texts while her bold, red lips were sloped downwards like a mountain.

"This is all? What about the rest?"

"Burned," Florian turned his eyes to Aurae, and she could feel his gaze piercing through hers, "Down to ashes. Everything."

Silence smothered over the girl like quicksand over a stone. She awkwardly turned her attention to some tree branch swaying at the window.

Mei let out a sigh, "Well," she said, "What can be done? Though this is a serious matter, at least no lives were lost. That is a cost which no amount of time could have fixed."

"No lives were lost?" Florian spat, "How could you speak such ignorance?! Those books were the works of vefarié who dedicated all their years to write and produce! Every book was written in utmost perfection, the lines upon every single page–"

"Florian, dear." Mei started.

"Every drop of ancient knowledge has been blown down to dust! Knowledge that took centuries to discover and develop!" He pointed a harsh finger at Aurae, "All because of this stupid–"

A loud slap echoed throughout the room, and there was silence. Florian stood in his place, his eyes wide in bewilderment; his face half-red where he had been struck. His wide-brimmed hat had been wacked right off him and was settled quietly upon the floor.

"The knowledge is not lost as you say it is," Madame Mei raised her head, "I have had my students memorise those books word for word. We may not have the knowledge by ink, but we certainly have it by tongue. I will have it all rewritten, if needs be," her voice was firm, but calm, and it was admirable how elegantly she conducted herself. She was slender, and held an attractive posture, but her joints were rigid and thin like those of a black widow spider.

Florian said naught. It was difficult to tell if he were embarrassed, or confused, or anything, for his expression had not changed since he had been hit. The sight of the red patch upon his ashy skin made Aurae cringe. She recalled a time she saw Mei painting her nails with a strange, bottled liquid that held a sour scent. When she had asked what it was, the answer chilled her to the bone.

'Spider venom,' Mei had told her, 'They give the nails a nice shine.'

Perhaps this was why no-one spoke up to her in person, in fear that their skin would be boiled off by her touch alone.

Madame Mei gingerly made her way to the entrance. With her venomous fingers, she closed it to block out the cold air, "Now then, we had something important to-"

The door flew open. The winds howled a flurry of snow into the room, and the cold blew over everyone, this time not as intense. Right before them stood a lady, with hair that flowed like a river of snake's blood. She abruptly charged into the room, her sharp eyes silently sweeping from person to person, before landing on Aurae.

"For the love of Veifa does nobody have the decency to knock before entering?!" Mae started.

"Aurae, you are a crazy bitch," Vilja walked right past the Arakya as she dragged her dampened boots across the ruddy carpets, "When I told you to set the stage on fire, I did not mean literally."

She couldn’t help but take offence, "I didn't intentionally set anything on fire."

"Oh! Well thank you for that information, that makes things so much better, doesn't it?" her voice was heavy with sarcasm, "I wish you did do it intentionally, that way you'd at least have control over what you are burning, and what you are not!"

Aurae raised her shoulders, sheepishly, "But I wouldn't do such a thing intentionally."

"Exactly."

She opened her mouth to speak, but quickly shut it again. There it was. The vague and ever-confusing words of Vilja. Though Aurae did not understand what she meant, she had the strange feeling that she was supposed to.

"Well then, Vilja?" Mei had spoken from across the room, "Did you tell her?"

Tell her what? Aurae’s eyes flicked over to Vilja expectantly, before she quickly realised what this must have been about. Her expression dulled.

"What? That I failed the exam at the Komidraya?" she said plainly. As if this had not been obvious enough.

Vilja exchanged glances with Mei. She shook her head. Mei stared, threateningly. Vilja squinted. Mei gestured at Aurae, and Vilja gestured at Mei. They kept going at it, speaking in vague motions. Meanwhile, Florian sat sadly in the corner petting Madame Mei’s cat. Tourmaline, they called her. She had fur as black as obsidian; eyes as kaleidoscopic as the rainbow.

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Vilja’s grip was cold around Aurae’s arm. It was expected, of a woman who spent most her days out in the wild, buried beneath the winter shrubs and embraced by the storm.

Gently, she guided her out of the Arakya’s den, and they walked home silently. They passed by the marketplace and the temples, the medicine huts and herbal taverns, as quiet as the breeze and swift as a fox. Then, Vilja’s fingers seemed to tighten as they passed the Komidraya. Or what was left of it, at least.

At first, Aurae had not recognised it: the walls were torn down and ragged. The snow around was turned grey from ash and dirt; dust pricked at her nostrils and pinched the skin around her eyes. Vefarié were still wandering around the site in their flowy gowns and dark robes; they cleaned and searched the piles of cinder, trying their best to find what little was left of the scriptures and antiques. Aurae noticed one of them glance in their direction and suddenly, her eyes were latched onto them like a leech. The woman’s expression darkened. Aurae quickly looked away.

Vilja’s tall shadow hid her, and they slipped past the scene quickly enough.

"What was it?" she started, "The thing you were going to tell me?"

Vilja looked straight ahead, and for a moment Aurae thought she had not heard her.

"I will tell you once we are home."

"Why not now? Why not at the Arakya's hut?"

"Because," she still avoided her eyes, "You would throw a tantrum in front of everyone. You have already embarrassed yourself enough today."

Aurae clicked her tongue. Did Vilja really think her to be so sensitive? Surely the matter could not be any worse than what had already happened, and yet she hesitated to speak of it before they reached home.

"I do not throw tantrums," she said, sullenly.