Burn

The mage-to-be moved slowly through Heartfire Manor, appreciating the sound her sharp hooves made echoing on the marble. It was a small comfort, admiring the artwork, the finely crafted metal pieces, the busts of Firebirds past, when she thought of Naviri’s burgeoning magic. It had revealed itself two weeks ago-they had got into another bickering match, one of the near-daily occurrences in the Manor these days. Naviri had flapped her beastly wings and stomped a hoof, only for fire to shoot up out of that hoof, coating her leg and shoulder. Natalya had thrown herself away from the flame, and yet her lovely, beautiful wings had been singed. Her poor feathers were darker and a bit charred, which made flying- the one thing she loved more than her family- unwieldy and difficult. She had almost fallen to the ground earlier today, and it was only by Grace herself that she had not snapped a wing in the fall- she had only some scraped knees, which were healed by the resident healing mage in seconds flat.

It was another thing to hold against Naviri, with her beauty and golden gaze, her silver tongue that was far more eloquent than her own. Now, she had magic, she had her perfect wings that could fly as easily as a bird- or a bat. That’s what her wings were- not beast’s wings, from some fantasy or belonging to some monster that the mages hunted, but bats- those tiny, disease-filled creatures that squeaked and squealed as they darted through the sky, eating insects and other tiny, nasty things. Yes, that was what Naviri’s wings belonged to- and what she was. A horrid bat.

The chuckle echoed in her throat as she let that malcontent build up in her, ignoring the whispers from the logical half of her soul that this was the buildup to the magic revealing itself- the anger, the rage and loathing. That she should suppress those emotions before they got out of hand, report them to an elder Firebird, and release them in a fireproofed room, to mitigate damage and harm to bystanders- like Naviri had failed to do, ruining her precious wings, their sunset colored feathers, until she could molt again and gain new ones!

So she fanned that anger, that loathing and hatred, seeing Naviri as a tiny little pest in her head, hearing her squeaks as she fought against Natalya’s higher standing- for she would always be the higher of the two siblings. The back of her mind was busied with the thoughts of her upcoming visit to the Forges- her first as the heir. She and her entourage would leave tomorrow, followed by her father’s a few hours later. It would take a bit to get there, and she’d visit them for a while tomorrow, return to the small manor home nearby for the night, and stay there for a few days. She’d tour the facilities, rub shoulders with the Firebirds at work, and meet the newest batch of apprentices. It was important, this trip, and everything needed to go down perfectly. This would determine how her tenure as Head would go in the future- and first impressions were everything. 

Reaching her room, she opened the door, and found Naviri inside, her teke fondling the ruby-red dress she was to wear tomorrow, with its golden embroidery, depicting great flaming birds and a blaze of wildfire along its hem. Her twin stood beside her wardrobe, the doors flung open, a smile mellowing out the rage usually shown on her face. Indeed, the flaming temper she possessed seemed to be buried- but Natalya knew better.

Or, rather, her magic did. 

It had seen what Naviri could do- had seen how Naviri’s calmness far too often hid a cunning wrath inside it, willing and able to destroy what Natalya held dear, to humiliate her in front of her teachers, her family, those she wanted to impress. From defacing her homework and essays, turning her once-elegant turns of phrases into vulgar, crude replications, to staining her light dresses and cloaks with wine and blood and food, to tearing apart her sister’s reputation in public- all things Natalya had never once done back to her. She still hoped for peace, for love between them, even if she had to be the Heir and Naviri couldn’t be. She wouldn’t act first.

But seeing Naviri holding the thin fabric between her teke, able to rip the delicate thing to shreds and ruin her first visit to the Forges…

It sparked something that had remained dormant, should have done so for far longer. 

Heat blazed in her stomach, in the very depths of her soul. Gentle, at first- oh, so gentle, so at odds with what was to come. It rallied its strength, and with that first push upwards, it spoke to her.

Stop her

Oh, she had startled slightly, at that new presence, that voice in her head, before the flames shoved that worry aside. There were worse things afoot here- things that would damage her forever, destroy what she, by right of birth, had been given, what she worked towards even now.

You must stop her

Her hooves clanged against the marble floor, the pings of sound echoing in her chambers as she strode forward, a frown on her face, marring her lovely features. That made Naviri turn, the dress still held between her teke, surprise on her face. 

“Forgive me, sister,” she said, the words formal, foreign. They had never called each other by that formal title, sister- it had been Natalya and Naviri, Nat and Nav, since their first breaths. Even now, with things strained between them, they made the effort to call each other by name. Taking a breath, the errant twin continued. “I know Father has forbidden me from your rooms, but I had to speak to you.”

She will tear your dress

The magic continued to whisper in her ears as time seemed to slow, Natalya drawing closer to her sister, Naviri still gripping that damned dress in her teke. She hardly heard the words Naviri spoke, so hot was the fire burning in her now, demanding she take action, burn anyone in her way. “I know things have been rough between us, since the discussion Father had with me. I wanted to say-” she paused, gathering herself- “I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

She will make you pay for being firstborn

So hot, now, was the heat coming off of her, that, perhaps distractedly, she noticed a drop of sweat beading on Naviri’s temple, sliding down her cheek. She herself did not feel the heat, did not feel anything but that rage and wrath at her bat-sister for daring to enter her space, to touch her things, to come spouting apologies at behavior that had continued for years when Natalya had tried everything, had begged her to stop! 

“I’m sorry,” the liar said, “for everything. I know that I hurt you, that I went too far-”

A pretty little lie. 

She will burn your face burn your things destroy that which you hold most dear

She continued. “And that I leave tomorrow for Namarast, as you leave for the Forges. And since I don’t know when I’ll see you again, I wanted to ask for your-” a heaving pant, as more beads of sweat rolled down her face, her flanks. The sorrow in her eyes had the right move, at least, to turn to fear as she realized the source of the heat, of the ticking bomb before her. “Natalya,” she said, her voice hardly higher than a whisper, “I’m not here to hurt you, or your things, I’m here to apologize!” 

The fear deepend, turned to panic. “Nat, you can draw it back in, the magic, you must-”

Must? Must? A laugh, from her or the magic, she didn’t know, left her lips, dark and promising punishment. She must do nothing.

And that heat- that glorious, wondrous heat- it would no longer be contained.

She felt the flames erupt from her heart, charring anything in a five-foot radius to ash instantly, unless it was made of marble or iron or steel or anything incapable of burning. The first explosions of power from Firebirds were always powerful, always far more powerful than their normal levels, once the magic settled within them. She felt them coat her skin, her feathers, turning them into bright, shining jewels upon her sides as they flared out. She reared up, wings spread wide, as she funneled that power to a fine point, throwing it towards her twin in an unending stream of rage and hatred and loathing and wrath. 

She felt Naviri try to grab the flames, to bend them to her will, form a shield around her poor, miserable flesh to keep the wrath of her sister from turning her, too, to dust- but the flames would not yield. They were too powerful to be controlled by Naviri, although she, too, had an immense well of power within her.  Natalya’s were on another level, far beyond that of the younger twin, hearkening back to Filat, the last great Firebird. She heard the screams as the flames made contact, as she forced them around her sister’s face, her shoulder, into her eye and along the fine edge of her ear. The magic- or her- rejoiced at the feel of bubbling flesh, melting nerves and fat, charring the hair. Pulling back, she struck again, feeling her sister fall to the ground, trying to protect herself as she dragged her body- half useless- behind a marble slab of wall. 

She heard her own roar as the magic took over, her consciousness thrown to the back as she screamed her rage and pain. The roar of the fire alarms, the pounding of hooves on stone. The fear of the bystanders as she turned, something ancient and cruel living within her gaze, set alight by the flames within her soul. The sound of water, flung by Firebirds in an attempt to fracture her power, to get her to yield to them. The heat and humidity as it turned to steam before getting within a foot of her.

And then the cold, the searing ache, as a water mage struck, followed by one wielding ice, alternating blasts as the heat ebbed and faded, clawing and failing to keep a hold on her mind, her body. The slamming of her bones onto the floor, her body lacking the strength to stand upright for a second longer. 

And as she slowly gained back her ability to control her body from the deep, ancient creature that had stolen it, she regained the ability to sense what mattered most. 

The screams of the bystanders as they entered the room, as they passed that half-wall. The stench of burnt flesh and hair. The moans of pain from somewhere beyond. The smell of ash and smoke, the sight of her destroyed bedroom, the dress she had burned for nothing more than scraps of fabric and bits of ash.

The sight of her twin, face burned and malformed, the skin twisted and bubbled and warped. The cloudiness of her eye, the burnt-off mane and tail and chest and deformed hooves. 

The sounds of her own screams as she saw what she had done. 

She was lifted, carried away by the staff, screaming all the while. The magic took advantage of her pain and stress and fear, rising again, and the staff panicked, feeling the heat. She couldn’t let that happen again- to anyone, least of all non-mages who could not defend themselves. 

So she struck.

She attacked the magic, slamming sharp hooves and fangs and teeth and powerful wings upon it. She forced it down, down, down, hitting it again and again and again, pulling on her strength to keep it there. She slammed imaginary sheets of iron down upon that well of heat, of flame, screeching her rage when those sheets bubbled and warped and melted. Still, she kept at it, and did not stop, forcing that fire to cool, to still, as the sheets of iron and steel rained down upon that well of power, that inhuman, ancient beast. They melted a tad, mixing with the previous sheets, and still she added more, made that heat in her mind and soul melt them together so that nothing else would escape. 

There would never be another time for an accident like this, not with those soldered iron and steel walls keeping that thing locked up inside her. She stumbled down, off of the shoulders of that bovine servant, stumbling along to her father’s office, where she had been ordered to stay. She heard the mumblings of the healers- they could not save everything. They could save her vision, give her back her wing, so badly damaged, fix the hooves, and heal over the burns- but she would be marked forever, her once-beauty destroyed. 

As for Natalya- with power like that, she could not stay at Heartfire Manor any longer. She needed the Order to train her, to keep that ancient slumbering power under wraps. There could not be another incident like this, or she would be locked away, deemed too dangerous to be free. Her father agreed- she would leave for Namarast tomorrow, in Naviri’s place. Naviri would follow once she was healed enough to travel.

She slept fitfully on her father’s chaise lounge, weeping with what she had done, and the murmurings that beast sent to her mind of how it had loved the power, the pain it had caused. Sobbing in pain and horror, she added sheets of steel onto that wall in her mind, in her soul, until that thing was silent, unable to intrude. Then, and only then, did she sleep, her mind wracked with nightmares, her sister’s burnt face snarling at her, the stench of burning hair strong in her mind. 

She woke nauseous, and did not eat before leaving for the Order, for the years of training to come. She wanted to apologize to Naviri, but her father shooed her away- she would not want to see who had done this to her, he said, and she could apologize in Namarast. So she went, and joined that entourage, and journeyed, her head down, the entire way. And when Naviri did not arrive, some part of her was glad. 

She did not want to see that face, did not want to see the proof of what she had done.