Ashes and Bargains
The night air was heavy with the scent of blood, ash, and something far older—something that crawled beneath the skin and whispered through the trees. Behind them, the house that once held generations of secrets stood silent and still.
Then Nyra stepped forward.
Her eyes shimmered with a cruel calm, black and violet flames twisting in the air around her fingers like serpents. She raised her hand. There was no emotion in her face, no remorse in her eyes—only resolve. With a silent flick of her wrist, the fire leapt from her hand and devoured the dry, cursed wood of the Shadowmother's home.
Crackling with hunger, the flames clawed through the walls and windows, igniting with unnatural speed. The fire hissed and roared, pulsing like a living thing with Nyra's magic. Its glow painted the siblings' faces in a demonic orange.
Kael watched in silence, the corners of his mouth twitching ever so slightly as if tasting satisfaction. Aelina stood beside him, her expression as unreadable as ever, though her arms were folded and her eyes followed the flames as they danced higher. There was a small, approving nod, so subtle it might have gone unnoticed.
"Let it all burn," Aelina whispered coldly, her voice swallowed by the roar of the fire.
They turned and walked away from the blaze, its heat biting at their backs. The forest they entered was no less cruel. The trees loomed like watching gods, their bark twisted into gnarled faces. Thorns snagged their clothes and scratched their skin. Roots curled up like skeletal hands, trying to pull them under. The air was thick with damp decay, every step an effort. Their feet grew heavy with each step, as if the forest itself resented their presence.
Their breaths came ragged, not from fear, but from the weight of exhaustion and something colder, something hollow. Then, as if plucked from a dream or curse, they came upon an old, moss-covered bench under a crooked tree. A dim flashlight blinked weakly atop it, casting fractured shadows over the bark that resembled faces screaming in silence. They collapsed onto the bench without a word, too drained to speak, yet too alert to sleep.
Then, without warning, light burst through the shadows.
It wasn't the warm gold of morning or the cold silver of moonlight. It was something unnatural—serene, yet suffocating. A figure stepped from the trees, draped in ethereal robes that shimmered like starlight drowned in blood. Her hair floated as if underwater, her presence bending the world around her.
They didn't move.
Kael's fists clenched, ready to strike. Nyra remained still, her face unreadable, but her eyes sharp. Aelina's stare was blank, yet intense, like staring through a threat.
The figure raised one hand—not in attack, but peace.
"I mean you no harm," she said softly. "I've been watching you… for a very long time."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "Who are you? And what do you mean you've been watching us?"
The figure offered a small smile. "I am Maevhara, goddess—"
Aelina interrupted coldly, arms crossed, face unreadable. "We don't trust unknown creatures, or whatever you are."
"Who said I was an unknown creature?" Maevhara's smile didn't reach her eyes. "I am Maevhara, a goddess. You may call me that."
"We don't care who you are. What do you want from us?" Kael retorted.
The figure's expression shifted slightly, the warmth of her smile dimming. "I want what others fear to claim—unapologetic dominion, shaped by will alone. With your power and my vision, we could unmake the chains of fate. A partnership. You lend me your strength, and I'll tear down the walls the world has built around you."
Kael scoffed, his voice sharp and dry. "And what makes you think we'd trust you?"
Maevhara's gaze softened, but her presence still exuded control. "Because I can offer you power. Protection. Influence. Pledge yourselves to me, and I will give you everything you desire."
The siblings exchanged a look, one that spoke more than words ever could. There were no words exchanged. Only thoughts.
We can't trust her, Kael's mind hissed.
We don't have a choice, Nyra thought back, calm and calculating. Where else will we find shelter? Food? The world hates us. She wants to use us, but we can use her too.
Maevhara stood in silence, her smile never fading. The cold wind stirred the air around her, making her robes flutter like the wings of a ghost.
"We will not pledge ourselves," Nyra said at last. Her voice was like ice breaking on stone. "But we will work with you—on our terms. We want shelter, gold, influence. And in return, we'll lend our strength."
Maevhara's lips curled slightly. "As you wish," she said, her voice echoing with an undertone of satisfaction.
Just then, the little creature that had been lurking beside her suddenly spoke up, his voice dripping with disdain.
"Master, we don't need these filthy things. They reek of blood and curses."
Kael gave a sharp look, clearly skeptical.
Shut up, Maevhara's voice echoed in his mind, We need them.
He sighed dramatically.
Zephrius, the ember-eyed creature, hissed in annoyance but reluctantly stepped back, his fiery form flickering in the shadows.
The creature's voice echoed in the air. "Very well... Zephrius. The Whispering Flame, at your service."
Kael snickered. "Tch. So long and annoying. We'll just call you Pipsqueak."
Zephrius let out an exaggerated huff. "I am NOT Pipsqueak!"
Kael, clearly irritated now, smirked. "Pipsqueak it is," he said.
Maevhara's lips curled into a small, knowing smile, though her gaze remained unwavering. "He can be... temperamental," she said, as though discussing a mere inconvenience. "But he is useful."
And somewhere deep in the woods, the last embers of the Shadowmother's house finally died.
And with it, so did something else—
—Or so they believed.
Author's Note:
This chapter was fun and intense to write. Watching the siblings burn down the Shadowmother's house and walk straight into a deal with a goddess… things are only going to get darker from here. If you're enjoying the story so far, let me know in the comments. I'm curious who you trust less—Maevhara or the kids. 👀🔥