_~Wisteria~_

I find that fire is something that I have always associated man with.

Full of flavor and bursting with life. Capable of hypnotism, of drawing you into your death. Chaotically lifesaving and on the verge of mass destruction at the same time.

That’s why I’ve never liked fire. It can’t pick a side. But it’s seductive on a cold winter’s night when there’s nothing else to keep you warm but your thoughts. You just stare at those lapping flames, enticing Mikado yellows, amber oranges, feeling the warmth in your cheeks while memories of love rush to your mind. Memories of late-night tea drinking and warm soups and hugs. So before you know it, you’re head over heels for fire, thinking _wow_, _fire_, _what would I do without you_?

But then you get too close. You singe a sleeve. You burn a finger. You’re reminded of why the word _fire_ fills you with such disgust and rage it’s practically palpable.

Fire.

It’s what I saw when those kid’s parents burned down my home. That beautiful home that I had been raised in. A place that was for me and my mother, a haven, somewhere meant to be untouchable to humans. All because I just wanted a friend. Because I, a ten-year-old then, even though half fae, was fae nevertheless, and therefore a threat to all of Calea.

I was just a kid.

And I can’t tell you how it felt to sift through those ashes, still warm, amid the rubble of my home, raven’s feathers and uneven pots and ancient books burnt to oblivion, with smoke stinging tears flowing down my face. I scorned myself again and again as I knew my mother would when she came back from her scavenging trips and found me.

Fire is what I saw behind Vikriam Nycrow’s eyes when he first saw me. A subtle glow behind that curious visage, like a dying coal that still had life to give. I thought it was love then. Sometimes I like to convince myself that for just a little while, it might’ve been love. But I should’ve known that he had the power to start a bonfire.

How fitting is it now that I’m tied here to a stake in the ground, clothes torn and body beaten, facing my predators, the flames, as I await a humiliating death; burning alive at the stake, while others stare at you like you’re nothing but a pig at a barbecue.

I glance at the tight bindings on my wrists, grit my teeth, and stare out at the large crowd of Fallow members before me. Several of them are yelling directly at me, though I can’t understand what they’re saying. My eyes pick out a pair of soft blue eyes staring back at me triumphantly. The eyes belong to Lois Goldstring, Vikriam’s fiancé, and she’s sneering at me like she’s won something by killing me. Though her mouth is a flat line, I can tell she’s smiling in her soul. That woman is at such a low point in her life that having me burned to death fills her with glee.

But I won’t let fire win.

~Lois~

Vikriam is standing now amidst the crowd. I raise my cold hands,_ they’re always cold_ _these days, _to my face, connecting them by their fingertips at the bridge of my nose. I feel like I can already smell burning flesh. Sickly smell.

As I meet Wisteria’s gaze, I’m filled with a sense of victory. Does she know I was the mastermind of all this? That if it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t be burning to death in a few minutes? I hope she knows. I should’ve made it more obvious.

She should’ve learned that the worst you can do to a woman is not steal her man, but attempt to steal him quietly. She really thought that little by little, inch by inch, Vikriam would slowly slip from my grasp. She believed with her half-brained wit that one day I would just look around and finally notice that he’s missing.

She underestimated me very, very poorly. And now it will come back to bite her. I lower my hands and clench them tightly together in anticipation.

“We’re here today for the execution of a fae..” Vikriam, my fiancé and respected Council member, starts slowly and dramatically with that powerful voice of his as the crowd begins to hush. “A fae who has tormented our people for years.”

People around me are nodding their heads. Wisteria is staring me dead in the eye. I’ve never felt such hatred. For some reason, a giddy smile starts to pull at my lips. I press my fingers down at the top of my lip, covering my foolish mouth as I attempt to look as solemn as Vikriam has managed to look today.

“Many of us tried to cope with her. But it all ended when she led that poor child to his death in the Lost. How could we be so foolish? How could we let ourselves trust something that has never earned our trust? Let this moment remind us that fae can be full of nothing but deceit, turpitude, and cruelty.” Vikriam has picked up the pace now, and the crowd is with him. He really is a leader. Will this be good enough to have the Council promote him?

“This fire symbolizes an end to their deceit. We will never let this happen again!”

The crowd is worked up now, shouting violently and ordering Vikriam to start the fire. They’re shouting, roaring, screaming, spitting. I do not partake in such shouting. This is to be enjoyed.

The Head Counsel member, Olen, with his flowing white robe and braided beard, hands Vikriam the torch with shaky hands.

~Wisteria~

I’ve only felt fire once before. When I was eight, I was boiling water over our fireplace. My unaware self got too close, and a flame had licked my sleeve. It caught fairly quickly, and before I knew it I was screaming, patting the fire with anything to try and get it to stop. Eventually whatever eight-year-old senses were in my head directed me to the water bowl, which I hurriedly stuck my whole arm in. Though it had been only a few seconds, the skin had been damaged. The pain was unlike anything I had ever known. This was how they meant for me to die?

As Vikriam lights the brush below me, I can feel pure fear bubbling inside of me. The flames catch fairly quickly, and smoke begins to tease my senses. The crowd shouts angrily, seething and spitting. Evil people.

The flames lap up and touch my bare feet. Pain; pure, searing pain, strikes me as fast as a snake bite as the flames eat at my skin. I can feel my tissue constricting and being melted off. I bite my tongue for as long as I can, but the continuation forces a strained gargle of a scream out of me.

As I scream, I hear something in my ear, a faint whisper amidst the angry crowd: _Revenge. _

That’s all I can hear as the pain continues and my face is flooded with smoke. Tears flood down my face and I sound a constant cry of agony.

_Revenge_.

I see those cruel blue eyes smiling at me behind the smoke.

_Revenge_.

I see the man who said he loved me holding the torch that lit this fire.

_Revenge_.

Oh so steadily, with each angry thought, I can feel power growing inside of me. I have been living in the Lost for so long now that it has given me power outside its grasp._ I am the Lost. _

As the flames travel up my legs_, _I cry out through clenched teeth_. “_VIKRIAM NYCROW, I CURSE YOU AND ALL YOUR CHILDREN, THAT THEY WILL BE PART OF THE LOST SINCE BIRTH, THAT THEY WILL NOT DENY ITS CALLS.”

Vikriam stares at me with a dead expression.

“THOSE WITH NYCROW BLOOD WILL OWE ME.”

I feel powerful. I can’t feel anything but the darkness surging through me. I spot Lois clamping a skinny hand over her mouth. “AND LOIS GOLDSTRING, MAY YOU DIE AS GRUESOME A DEATH AS I HAVE BEEN SENTENCED TO DIE.”

I give a huge scream, and I can feel the flames no longer fighting my flesh but fighting my soul, fighting the darkness within me.

_They want to consume you_, the darkness tells me. _But light cannot touch what is not theirs. _

~Lois~

I watch in horror as Wisteria screams. Black mist seeps out of her clothes and spreads out over the flames. The flames hiss mixes with Wisteria’s bone-shuddering cries of power. With one last final scream, the mist surrounds her body.

With that, we hear nothing but her dark promise reverberating through the air.

The black mist waivers away steadily, like glitter in a pool.

Wisteria is gone.

The fire has been quenched, and the ground is covered with ash. Vikriam and the Counsel members look around in awe. The crowd has gone dead silent, except for the few murmurs in fear, “she’s pulled another trick,”

“Where did she go?”

“What did she say? About Nycrow?”

The ground around me swivels and rocks. My breath comes harshly and shallowly.

_Wisteria, so far gone to the Lost that Death does not even have a hold of her. _

_I’m backkk. This probably won’t make any sense to you guys if you’re reading. (Sorry about that) but this is me writing out scenes in my head to finally GET THEM OUT MY HEAD _😭_ so yeah I hope you enjoyed it. Have a great day! :)_