all that we have amassed sits before us, shattered into ash

She has avoided the other members of the kingdom after her chat with Demian. She is too scared still to face any of them… call her a coward, so be it. She had survived the abuse of a dark god and he marked her as his own; he had given her something far more intimate than just scars. She is scarred, yes—her ears reduced to charred nubs and the hideous, thin patch of flesh stretch taut over her previously exposed skull—but there is more than just that. One cannot forget the dragon-mark upon her breast, a mark carved into her flesh by Carnage himself. The burning in her chest—the fire that lives there now—is a result that only Cress can bare. She has been changed by him.

The golden girl is near the border (only inches from it, really) when Demian drops the barrier in place, and Cress screams as she stumbles backwards, tripping over her long legs. Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. The dragon has come back for her. It’s going to kill her this time for real and (oh, gods) she is not ready for death. She has just only escaped… but maybe she hasn’t. Maybe He only let her think that she’d escaped, given her false hope. He is evil. He has brought back the dragon and it is going to burn the Valley down and eat her. No, no, no. It cannot find her. She is supposed to be safe here. No.

She falls in her panic but the line of fire doesn’t inch any closer. The flames are an odd combination of colors (reds, purples, greens, and blues) but Cress doesn’t pause to examine them as she scrambles to her hooves. She turns her back on the fire and flees, heading towards the center of the kingdom. She has not seen (or heard, for that matter) the dragon yet, but that does not stop her. The beast is a hunter; surely it will find her soon enough. Until then, she is going to run. Maybe someone can help her. Maybe. She doesn’t want to die.

A flash of fire ahead halts her headlong rush and she stops in her tracks; only the murmurs of other horses draws her forward. There is a ring of fire surrounding the sacred tree of the Valley and there is Demian beside it, his eyes nothing but streams of flame. Eight is there too, and Flamevein, and others. Demian is speaking and, trembling, Cress settles next to Gallows. She has a sharp tongue, but she seems kind. Demian explains that he created the flames (“The Valley is not under attack,” he assures them) and that they are here to stay. Eight and Flamevein were helping him, blah, blah, blah. They were all to receive a magical mark to allow them to cross the cosmic fire at the border under their eyes, to be magically sealed by Eight after Flamvein burned… it… into their flesh. Not a mark. A brand.

“How dare you,” she says in a low voice as she takes a step forward, the hint of fire playing at her lips and terror barely hidden in her eyes.

“Demian, you know I am no coward,” she continues, voice shaking as she stands up to the one she respects the most, “but I will not burn for you as I did for the dark god who tortured me.”

That is too much to ask.

cress

oxytocin x kindling