“Dumpster fire,” I mutter.

Derry lifts a brow.

“You reek of dumpster fire!” I roar.

His jaw tightens. “Pick.”

The fact he sincerely believes I’ll pick between Brody and Mom is beyond asinine on his part. Like, seriously, he needs to give his head a shake. I don’t need to pick. He’s giving me both. The easy way…or the hard way. Not gonna lie, I’m hoping the idiot picks the hard way.

I stare blanks. “The departure stone is Phelan?”

He nods.

I rub my pocket rocket. It’s warm to the touch, but that’s one hundred percent me. I’m fixing to burn my own pants off here in a second.

“Where’d you get the landing stone?”

He shrugs.

“Suddenly the strong and silent type?”

He smirks.

“Who’s the landing stone, Derry?”

He grimaces. “The Solathair who converted me.”

Huh. While I’m sure there’s a story there, I don’t have time to hear it. Or maybe it’s just I don’t care to hear it. Derry crossed a line. Honestly, I’m impressed the tiniest tad. My line is super flex. Hard to cross it. Hard like the lesson he’s determined to learn. One indisputable thing is I’ll do anything to protect the people I care about. Apparently, even from people I also care about but probably shouldn’t bother with because they’re total tools.

“Give me the stones, Derry, and I’ll forgive you.”

He scoffs. “You’ll forgive me?”

“You heard me right, yes.”

Furrowing his brow, he tightens his fists tighter.

“Last chance,” I warn through gritted teeth.

I could sit here and go off on a fanciful tangent about how love works in mysterious ways, but the sad reality is sometimes love is just bojank. It eats your whole soul, spitting out the gristle it can’t chew. That gristle is where all the deliciousness resides. You know, the real flavor. The thing is, love like that is just plain unhealthy, and not in the fun way…like eating an entire cake for your birthday. Mmm cake.

He snorts derisively.

At this point, my fire fuel has had enough. Patience? Not a flame favorite. Snagging his wrists shocks him for half a second. Flesh fire doesn’t smell nice. Not when it’s coming from his fear, and certainly not when it’s literally wafting off him where I grabbed his wrists.

He lets out an embarrassingly feminine shriek—warranted, but I’m still calling him down for the little girl pitch—and drops the stones. Scooping them up, I give him a scowl that’s so past disapproving, even I’m feeling properly chastised.

He bolts from the room like his backside is on fire. It’s not. Calm down. It’s just memory marks on his wrists. It won’t kill him. He deserved it, okay? He earned those. Hard lessons have to be hard.

Meanwhile, my fire is not a happy camper. It’s officially done. Time? We’re all out. Derry was right on that very first day. My tanks are degraded from holding it all in, and my control is sorely lacking. I just need to hold it in for a bit longer. I need to do one more important thing. The most important thing.

I try to haul Brody from my pocket, but I can’t get a grip on him. Seems he’s stuck to my pants. I get the other stones out all right despite it taking some major tugging. I lay the three landing stones on the bed with the other one. There’s a complete set now to return: air, earth, fire, and water. I lay the departure stones on the floor in the same elemental presentation. I’m ready. Almost.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

I shove both hands in my pocket, trying to free Brody, but that sucker is stuck in there like cooled caramel in the bottom of a kettle you forgot sitting on the stove overnight. For the cake icing. Obviously. I have a scheduling conflict. My Tribunal meeting is second to my absolute panic over not freeing Brody before the rainbow light parade rolls into town. Off come the pants, only now I see the real issue wasn’t the pocket. Brody has chewed through the pants.

Okay. Fine. I’m telling a white lie! My fire fuel chewed through the pants getting to Brody, and it is not letting him go. He’s fused to my leg. I’m trying with all my might to scrape him off, but he’s not budging.

Too late.

I’m too late.

Guess Brody’s coming to Sheelin with me.

Even though the radiant display is beautiful as the rainbow light show illuminates the bedroom, it isn’t nearly as beautiful as the memory of this gloriously golden-skinned boy holding onto me for dear life, as a rock, while I go to meet my horrible end.

I land in a familiar Sheelin waiting room, advancing to the far left wall where the hallway appeared previously. The grinding sound starts immediately, the wall opening to a long hallway behind it. I don’t take slow steps. I march right down the hall. I don’t even flinch when the door behind me disappears. I’m not trapped. I’m trapping them. Opposite problem.

There’s a soft tapping against my fire fuel tank as I pass the first window. Sheelin hopes to draw my energy as it did with everyone except Barry the first time. It can’t take what I don’t want to give, and I’m not in a giving mood. “I hear you knockin’, but you can’t come in,” I whisper.

At the end of the hall, I pass through the doorway appearing to my right, marching to the large table in the center of the room dividing the expanse of my spherical tomb. As far as location goes, there couldn’t be a better place for my fire to make its grand theatrical debut. The four engraved thrones for the Tribunal members are empty like they were the last time. I glower at the fire, air, water, and earth symbols as if shooting daggers from my eyes will bring them to life so they can die, too. If only it could be that simple.

A one-trick pony, the Tribunal appears in a flash. Sheelin undoubtedly informed them of my arrival. My visit isn’t a surprise. They have my mother, after all, but I expected them to be sitting here waiting for me. With Barry reverted, they should be able to see everything they were previously blind to. Maybe in having absorbed his Sumair energy, the protection working to contain my fire is protecting me from their prying eyes. Nice side bonus. I like it. Point to me.

Shane Garvan, the fire elemental who intrigued me the most on my first visit, no longer sits slumped in his chair looking bored. He’s quite attentive this round. Conversely, I couldn’t be less interested in him. I’m no longer curious. I’m annoyed.

Tyler Carroll, the earth elemental, is just as interested in my arrival…if wanting to tear me apart piece by piece indicates an interest. Same, Buddy, same. My hatred runs just as deep. He’s the one who relayed the failed kidnapping command that caused the party guest decimation. Phelan went berserk, and both he and Brody died. Additionally, two Sentry Scouts deserted their cause. I legit think they mucked up the elements. He seems to have a lot more fire running through him than Fire Supreme.

As with my previous visit, I can’t sense any emotions from them. I can only assume what they’re feeling. What I can tell is the blocking party is Murphy Driscoll, the water elemental. He’s inhibiting my abilities. The clarity I’ve obtained from converting Gundy’s gift allows me to see that. Overcoming his energy dam will be tricky. Not impossible. It extends through the room but can’t affect me directly. It fizzles out when it gets too close. My fire isn’t having any part of it. Point to me.

“Sheelin welcomes you a second time,” Water begins. “I do hope this trip boasts better results for us all.”

“Can we skip all the garbage talk and just get this over with?”

We’ve come full circle. My greeting is exactly the same, but my feelings are different. I’ve said goodbye to the people I love and know precisely what I’m getting into. Instead of vying for Barry, I’ll be vying for my mother. Unfortunately, I have a history of broken deals. Earned. I earned that mistrust. No shame here. I didn’t leave the Tribunal bent on sticking to their terms. Basically, I ignored their ultimatum masquerading as an agreement. Then Brody ran away with Barry, costing them their leverage over me.

Asteria Guthrie, aka Air, cringes. “Where are your pants?”

I look down. Yeah, this is somewhat embarrassing. I’m standing in my underwear with a fused departure stone affixed to my thigh. Will they buy that as a fashion statement? Brody Bedazzle. New fad.

Fluttering my lashes, I smile facetiously at Earth. He looks like he wants to run across the room and rip the smile right off my face. Cool. He’ll be distracted if angry, making things easier for me. More points to me.

I do understand his frustration. I wouldn’t be in all that great a mood if I was leading the Sentry and my army deserted me to go help someone I hate. If said someone had the nerve to show up where I lived, smiling at me to my face, I’d want to do more than just rip their smile off. I’d get rid of the whole face by removing their head from their body.

Their eyes are the same cloudy substance all Solathairs display when using their powers. The Tribunal is perpetually active in their magic use. What type of energy drain is required for that? More, where do they get their abundant flow? Sheelin?

Holy smokes, it’s Sheelin feeding them. If Sheelin is destroyed, they’re toast, too. Let’s blow this joint.