Born Of Fire

by Heather McCorkle

  Chapter 1 – A Warning

  Mikayel

  It always starts the same – me, running across the hard dirt, careful to avoid the jagged rocks that litter the path. Each step sends unfamiliar shockwaves up my legs, as I struggle to feel comfortable in my body. My human body. Brambles snag my ankles, leaving a trail of scratches across my skin, feeling more like little daggers than the rambling brush that lines the hillsides.

  My senses are on heightened alert, bombarded with an unwelcome myriad of scents and sounds. Sage and rosemary mix with the putrid smell of rotting flesh. The thump-thump of my feet on the ground mixes with never-ending screams – human and angelic. It’s too much to bear, too much to absorb. Especially in this form. And yet, I must.

  I climb to the top of the bluff, rising high above the village I’ve called home these last several months. Panic settles in my stomach. Between the sensory onslaught and the building emotions, I can hardly focus.

  Hurry, Mikayel. Hurry . . .

  Demi.

  Her voice unnerves me, driving me further. Harder. I need to reach her before it’s too late. The more I climb the farther the distance to travel. I’m trapped in a labyrinth that has no end. I push out my awareness, desperate for some indication that I’m not alone – that Azza is here.

  Nothing.

  Only the nonstop bombardment of sensory information that will not yield.

  Calm your mind. You must calm your mind . . .

  The voice of my master, Azryel, rises above the dim, sounding so harsh compared to Demi’s still present voice.

  Remember your training. Remember who you are . . .

  Silence coats my mind. But not peace. My heart still pounds too hard against my chest. My blood still rushes too fast. My breathing is still too erratic. The stench of the dark creatures overwhelms my senses – rotting flesh, ash, sulfur. I gag, my stomach churning into a tempest.

  Come on Mikayel, you’re better than this, I scream to myself as I force my thoughts to work.

  And still I climb.

  The summit is no closer, but at least it isn’t moving away from me anymore. “Ahhh!” I shout. My voice bounces off the canyon below me, distorting. It adds to the rising chaos that continues to threaten my mind. I remind myself to focus. Tell my thoughts to calm. But they won’t obey.

  Mikayel . . .

  Her voice torments me. My body begins to shake as the rocks around me crumble.

  Mikayel . . .

  Rocks slide under my feet. I tip, wobble.

  Fall

  fall

  fall . . .

  “Mikayel! Mikayel. Wake up. You’re dreaming.”

  The sweet voice orients me as the images begin to fade.

  “Mikayel, it’s Demi. You must wake.”

  My eyes open, the sensation of falling still fresh in my muscles. Instinctively I reach out, grabbing the person nearest to me.

  “You’re okay, Mikayel. You were just dreaming.” Demi slowly opens my fingers, releasing herself from my grasp. Her voice soothes me. “An intense dream, from the sounds of it.”

  I edge up onto my elbows, finally settling into my surroundings. A small room, with a wooden table and chairs in the corner. Baskets line the walls. Woven blankets cover part of the floor, forming my make-shift bed. The distinctive scents of almond blossoms, sage and fresh bread coat the air.

  Home.

  At least, home for now.

  I focus on Demi. Her human form is so similar to her angelic one. She shorter than me, her stature petite. Fair, unlike the olive-skinned villagers we live amongst. Her blue eyes and blond hair are out of place. Yet, she manages to hide her identity well, tying her hair back in ribbons and wrapping traditional scarves around her head. But all the scarves in the world would not be able to hide her unearthly beauty. The beauty of the angels. Of Celestium.

  I shake the last remnants of the dream from my mind, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “Sorry to have startled you, Demi.” I stand, stretching the stiffness from my neck, back, arms.

  Despite my three months in this form, I’m still unaccustomed to the confines of human flesh. I want nothing more than to cast aside this body, stretch my wings and return to Celestium. But I can’t. Not until our task is completed.

  If only I understood what that meant, or when that might come.

  Demi stands, grabbing the blankets from the floor. “What was your dream about this time? The same?”

  “Yes, the same,” I say, running my fingers through the blond curly mess masquerading as my hair. I’ve been having the dream every day since I took human form. Azza says it’s just a by-product of being human – the sensory overload, the emotions. But I’m not so certain. This seems different. Like a message. A warning.

  Every time the dream is the same. Screams coming from the humans I’m meant to protect. From my angelic brethren. Demi’s voice is always amongst the screams, though I’ve never told her that part. I call for help; call for Azza, my brother in arms. He never comes. And I’m alone with nothing but the thoughts and emotions overwhelming me and the empty teachings of my mentor, Azryel.

  Demi thinks I should seek council with him. “He can help you,” she says. “He is to be your master soon.”

  Which is exactly why I will not ask for help. Guardians are never weak. They serve as protectors to humanity. They steer clear of emotions. Always. I am destined to join their ranks, maybe even the Council one day. Not my choice. My destiny. One I will not forsake by being weak.

  “It’s okay, Mikayel,” Demi says, pulling me out of my frustration. “You’ll understand the dreams, your feelings, everything. I know you will.”

  “You know he will what?” Azza walks into our small house, smiling like he had just beaten Azryel in the trials. “Finally get used to his human form and stop torturing us with his incessant screaming?” Azza laughs. “You know, you’re going to get us kicked out of the village if it continues. Everyone keeps wondering if you’re possessed.”

  My shoulders slump with the weight of his words. I’m putting everyone at risk with my lack of control.

  “Don’t worry though, brother. I took care of everything.”

  “What did you do?” Demi’s voice is tight with worry.

  “I just explained that Mikayel dreams about the death of his parents at the hands of their gods, reliving each horrible detail.”

  “You did what?” Demi’s annoyance is palpable.

  “Relax, Demi. I just told them what they needed to hear. Now they don’t worry about Mikayel. They pity him.”

  Pity. Great. Can this get any worse?

  Azza slaps me in the arm as he walks past. “Did you at least catch the bad guys this time?”

  “Shut up.” I want to be angry with Azza. But he covered for me. Just like always.

  Azza and I met at the beginning of our existence. We trained together with Azryel, learning the ways of the Guardians. In truth, we both yearned for something more – the Sentinal order. That order had faded over the last millennia. It seems there’s no need for warriors in times of peace.

  “So, what are we practicing today? Banishments? Swords? Hand to hand combat? What?” Our routine is as unchanging as my dreams. We practice every morning, preparing for a battle that will never happen. Careful to avoid disclosing our true identities, we train high above the village, on the bluffs overlooking the Aegean Sea, away from the curious eyes of the humans.

  “Not more practicing,” Azza complains. “Why do we bother, brother? Humans are simple, easy to manage. I think we should spend time exploring the other parts of our assignment.”

  “Which are?”

  “Understanding human feelings. Emotions.”

  “Azza!” Demi likes his talk of human feelings even less than our banter. “Need I remind you that it’s forbidden. We’re Watchers. We watch. That’s all. We don’t experience their lives. At least not in the way you’re referring to. We stay detached. You should know this.”

  “You’r
e just no fun, Demi. No fun at all.” Azza stands next to Demi, brushing his thumb along her jaw. “Maybe you should try experiencing some of the emotions before you decide we shouldn’t.” He runs his hand through his black hair and smiles, a furtive grin forming on his face. Leaning into Demi he whispers, “You may find you like them.” He brushes his lips on her cheek.

  My stomach clenches and my palms begin to sweat. I bite back my sudden urge to pummel something. Someone. Azza.

  Demi flinches, slapping Azza hard across his cheek. He laughs and walks out of the small dwelling we share.

  My anger seethes as reckless thoughts swirl too fast. I imagine running after Azza, pounding him for making Demi feel so angry. I take a deep breath. And another.

  But my feelings won’t abate. Feelings I’m not supposed to have. Feelings I can’t relinquish.

  “Sometimes I really despise Azza.” Demi paces the room.

  I swallow back the tide of emotions inside. “You shouldn’t let him get to you like that,” I say through gritted teeth. My mind is fragmented. The loss of control is exhilarating. Terrifying. “Azza only says things to make you mad.”

  “Yes, well it’s working.”

  On both of us.