PROLOGUE
Flames licked the walls of Fallon house, angry and unrelenting, leaving ash and soot in their wake. The formidable building hissed and groaned in protest but the fire plunged on, reducing the building to splintered wood and shattered windows. The Fallon house had stood tall and proud for years, having weathered many disasters in its time. But today, it seemed to bow in defeat to the might and wrath of the angry flames.
A safe distance away from the burning house, stood eight-year-old Evvie Fallon and her five-year-old sister, Lyric, whose hand was clutched firmly in Evvie's grasp as though she feared the younger girl would disappear.
It had been one of the most tense moments of Evvie's life when the household's inhabitants had been evacuated from the burning building and it was discovered that little Lyric was nowhere among them.
Her father sprang into action immediately, calling on the guards to retrieve his daughter, all the while yelling at the ones who restrained him from marching into the burning building himself, to retrieve his child.
Now, David Fallon paced, making phone calls after another while his wife, Amanda and eldest child, Brea, made rounds to check if everyone was safe and that those who sustained injuries were given immediate attention. They were also supervising the distribution of blankets, bottles of water and some light snacks to those who needed them.
"Papa?" Lyric's soft voice cut through the air, pulling her father's immediate attention to her small form and he made his way over to where she stood, squatting before her and turning her left, then right to ascertain whether she had come to any harm.
"Hey stormcloud. Are you hurt? Do you feel pain anywhere?" He asked worriedly, eyebrows creased with concern.
Lyric placed a small, soft, uncalloused palm against her father's warm, rougher cheek, shaking her head to indicate that she was fine, before pulling her head up to stare at the burning building.
Her father followed her line of sight, turning to her with an understanding smile. "Don't worry stormcloud. You're safe now. You know papa's never gonna let anything happen to you." He reassured her with a soft smile.
Standing, he smiled down at her, already reaching for the phone in his pocket.
"No, Papa, you don't understand. Nothing's wrong with me. It's the fire." She called out, stopping him in his tracks. Confused, he looked to her older sister as though she might have the solution to the puzzle; Lyric's statement was. Evvie shrugged, as clueless as he was.
Lyric knew fire. Her family roasted marshmallows in the fire pit in their backyard every Saturday. She watched television shows with Brea and Evvie, and there had been a few sightings of explosions in many of them, since Brea favoured action films. The fire engulfing her home now though, looked nothing like the fire she had seen many times.
"What do you mean sweetheart? What do you mean by the fire's wrong?"He leaned down, placing a hand on her smaller shoulders, peering down at her.
With big amber eyes, Lyric looked up at her dad and said in a voice so small, it was barely a whisper, "The fire's purple, Papa, and it knows my name."
