Page 12 of A Requiem of Fire and Ice

Chapter 6

Pandora Hart

I lay on the bed with my arm across my forehead and the bedsheets wrapped around my bottom half. I stare at the peeling paint before my eyes roll towards Xavier. The door closes from the bathroom, and the sound of water chugging along tickles my eardrums. When I hear the shower door creak shut, I sit upright and stare at my trembling fingers in my lap.

Deep breaths.

There’s a stench of sex in the air, but the more I breathe in and out, the more it dissipates, and I push it from my mind.

Shuffling off the bed, I grab my pants but leave my shirt on to conceal the⁠—

Deep breaths.

I roll my shoulder to shake off the funk before Xavier leaves the bathroom.

“I should leave,” he says once he’s finished in there.

I pout and lower my shoulders, but it’s a struggle. Pain shudders through my body, filling me with hatred and disgust at everything I do. However, there’s no turning back, especially since I’m so close to entering the Kingdom of Flesh. I can practically taste King Ragan’s flesh on the tip of my tongue.

Xavier kisses me. “I will be here at eight sharp.”

I bite my lower lip. He smiles before he leaves, closing the door behind him. Before I can drop my façade, I rush to the door, close it, and twist the latch. Afterwards, I lean against it and slide down the wall like wet paint.

Pull it together, Pandora. Block it out like everything else and keep moving forward.

Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I stand, shrug off my academy uniform, and head into the bathroom. As the shower starts, I press my hands against the bathroom counter and glare with profound hatred. Through this hatred, swirling flakes of snow wisp in the bleak night while flames coil around every surface, igniting so swiftly until…

“Pandora, what do we do?” Typha cries out.

I shuffle back, inching towards the dagger near my bed. If I can reach it before he attacks, he will die. But Typha’s hysterical sobs make it challenging to concentrate on my next move.

Flames spin around his arms, and a potent mix of disgust and hatred is so vividly conveyed that I question whether I have ever met this man.

I bump into the nightstand, and frost creeps up the wood, spreading like a spider’s web. He is about to throw the fireball at Typha, and as he is about to launch it, a spear of ice pierces through his back, emerging from his chest. Crimson drips down the glistening ice, and from behind him, Mother enters the room. Her bright pink eyes widen in horror as she sees Typha and me crouching at the edge of my bed.

“Girls, we have to move!” Mother commands, her voice sharp like a whip, propelling my feet forward, but before I follow her, I seize my dagger from the nightstand.

She grabs our hands, tightening them for her sake, not ours, as if she needs to cling to us to stay in her reality and keep herself grounded. We stumble down the stairs and head to the door just as it opens. Mother reacts quickly, twisting my arm and pushing Typha and me through the kitchen. “Go!” she demands.

I don’t pause. I don’t stop and think about bringing her. I do as she says because my parents taught me to listen. Grabbing Typha’s arm because she’s too shell-shocked, I drag her through the kitchen and to the backyard when my body launches into the air when the house explodes. My grip on Typha tears away from her, and I am propelled out of the home until I crash into a heap of snow, cushioning my fall.

Turning to face my home, my lip trembles at the orange flames darkening the sky. It’s nothing but ashes. But I can’t stop. A shadow of an elemny roams inside the roaring flames.

I jump to my feet and race to Typha. She’s whimpering near where I landed. Pulling her to her feet, we head to the back gate and enter an alleyway adorned with Christmas lights. They flash red, blue, green across my exposed skin as we creep down the alleyway.

The ground shakes, and a home near mine explodes into crumbled brick and wood. I stop walking. Wetness drips down my exposed arm, and as I look up, icicles on the street lamp melt, dripping onto the slush at my feet.

“Mother is dead,” Typha sobs.

I turn to her and gently cup her face in my hands. “Hey, not right now, okay? We need to get to safety.”

“Where is it safe?” Typha says, pointing to the billowing smoke and flames engulfing homes. “They fucking surround us.”

Before I can respond, footsteps nearby prompt me to grab Typha by the arm and pull her behind the garbage bins in our neighbour’s backyard. At the entrance to the alleyway, a group of elemny come into view. “What do we do about these?” a man asks, pointing to the body of an ice elemental. The barrier shielding my conscious mind crumbles, and the wailing, painful cries reach me—a horrendous, torturous requiem.

“Build a bonfire and toss in all the bodies you can find,” the other says with a casual wave of his hand. “I need to locate the Commander and tell them we’ll clear this side of the kingdom within the hour. Keep destroying homes and piling up the bodies.”

“Commander?” Typha breathes.