The Phoenix Vigil

The Moon Has Fallen

From my balcony, I could see the Mountain Range I call home. The Dawn Spire Ridge, there, jagged back and crimson peaks reaching out for the sky. The smell of sulfur on the wind is strong today from the Ashfather volcano, which my home was built into. The deep pulse of magma lit up the ridge. I took in a deep breath and smiled.

“Vaelaric.” Came the soft voice of my mother. I turned to see her standing before me, her long, bright red hair braided back, showing off her freckled skin so much like my own. She always said I was her mirror image.

She tapped her foot at me impatiently while she was holding swatches of fabric. I’ve never seen so many different shades of the same color in my life.

“What do you think of this shade of gold, my Little Ember?” My mother asked, holding up a swatch of golden fabric.

“It’s gold,” I replied, unable to keep from laughing at her excitement.

“I wish you’d take this more seriously, Little Ember.” My mother huffed as I strode past her to my mirror.

“I assure you I’m taking the preparations very seriously,” I tell her as I run my fingers through my fiery red hair, scrunching the locks with my hands to make them more textured and wild.

“You haven’t even decided on the flowers yet!”

“I thought we already decided ages ago that we would go with Fire Lillies and Moon flowers,” I replied as I straightened my collar in the mirror.

I heard her huff of indignation behind me as she padded across my room.

“Valarie.” My father’s voice cut in. I turned to look at him. He was a mountain compared to me. I always thought of myself as tall and well-built, but my father stood over six and a half feet tall and had the muscles of two men.

My father stood in my doorway, stroking his bushy brown beard, his hazel eyes watching my mother sort through boxes as if she were running out of time to make everything perfect.

“When does she return, Vaelaric?” My father asked me.

I open my mouth to speak when my mother appears in front of me, and suddenly, something warm and savory is shoved into my mouth.

I choke on the savory, soft, spiced food, coughing and trying to chew before I turn back to my father.

“Soon,” I replied, patting my chest and trying to catch my breath, “Tomorrow is what was planned.”

My father just nodded, and I turned to look down at my mother, who stood expectantly.

“Well?” she asked.

“What was that?”

“A roasted spiced cinderfig,” she replied, “I thought it would make a good hors d’oeuvre.”

“It was savory, I like it, but Alice prefers sweets.”

My mother lifted another from a tray and drizzled a helping of honey over it.

“Here,” she said as she attempted to force the second cinderfig into my mouth.”

I dodged her and plucked it from her grasp, feeding myself. The combination of savory and sweet was heavenly on my tongue.

“Better,” I say to my mother as she begins to fuss with sheets of silken fabric.

“Good.” She stated, holding up a sheet of fabric towards me, and scrunching her face in dissatisfaction.

“No, no, this just won’t do!” she huffed, “I need all new samples, in different colors.

“Mother, you have every shade imaginable.” I teased, “I think you’d need to summon Hephaestus and have him forge you new colors.”

“Don’t test me, Vaelaric,” she replied, narrowing her eyes at me.

“I’d never dream of it.”

“Oh, Vamir,” my mother sang as she pranced over to my father, “Won’t this just be wonderful!”

“It’s about damn time,” my father grunted.

“They have known each other for their entire lives, Childhood sweethearts, destined mates, Phoenix’s heart, it’s so romantic.”

I pressed my hand to my chest, I could feel my heart beating, but I could also feel hers too, faintly thudding beside mine, for as long as I can remember.

“You never told me how you finally gave her that ring you made her.” My mother whined.

“I did, I told you I just slipped the ring on her finger, and said here ya go, hurry back from Avenwyld.”

“Vaelaric! That’s so unromantic.”

My father raised a bushy brow at me, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“Is that really how it played out, my boy?” My father asked, his smirk widening. “You were just sitting in your room late at night, and you slipped a ring on her finger?”

I grunted in agreement, “In Helios name.” I replied with a wink, my hand solemnly placed on my chest.

“But I want the details leading up to the big moment, Little Ember.”

“Why don’t you show me those color swatches again?” I tell her to change the subject.

I couldn’t hold back my smile as my mother went on about Alice and me, and how far we’ve come. I shook my head in disbelief when she returned from this last trip to Avenwyld with her mother. She and I are finally getting married.

My mother padded over to me, cupping my face, “You’ve waited so long for this, Little Ember,” she said softly, her golden eyes sparkling.

. . .

I heard my father snort, turning my sights to him and his crossed arms. I opened my mouth to speak, but suddenly I felt fire that was not my own. My wrists felt like someone pressed a hot brand around them.

“Fsuk’thk,” I cursed in my native Embercent, as I grabbed at my wrists, inspecting for the phantom injuries. My own flame, like fine hair running all over me, flared up along my arms.

“Val-lal-larik,” a small voice chirped as images started to flash before my eyes.

“Alice?” I tried to say, but no words came out.

“Va-val-lal-larik,” she said again in a small voice I hadn’t heard in so long, but I could see her clear as day. She was two; all puffy cheeks and bright violet eyes, her black hair to her shoulders, and her golden wings had actually started to look like wings.

“Val-fish!” She giggled, her infectious laugh. I must have been no older than seven then. She was trying so hard to pronounce my name.

“Val-cake!” She announced with pride. I couldn’t help but laugh; it was adorable. I held my arms open to her, and she toddled to me, wrapping her small arms around my neck. I lifted her, smiling.

“You can just call me Vael,” I said to her. She smiled back at me, with that wide, chubby-cheeked grin of hers that showed all of her teeth.

“Vael!” She cheered. She spent the rest of the day following me around like a duckling, narrating everything I did, and repeating my nickname every few words.

“Skr’vet,” I cursed again as I felt fire erupt down my spine, then my own flames licking up my back in response.

“Give it back!” Came Alice’s young voice again, echoing through my memories. I remember this: I was twelve, maybe, and I held a golden orange fruit in my hand, above a seven-year-old Alice’s head.

“That’s my Flarin!” She cried out, trying to climb me like a tree to get to my raised arm, her wings buzzing with indignation.

“I found it in the library,” I replied, shifting the fruit from one hand to the other, keeping it out of her reach.

“I left it there to keep it safe!” She cried out, one hand on my shoulders as she flapped her golden gossamer wings to help her reach the last few inches.

“Vael!” My mother cried out, grabbing my cheeks and tugging my face to look at her.

I gasped, my legs felt like lead, giving out, from under me, taking me to my knees. My mother cried out my name, and I heard my father’s thunderous footsteps approaching me. I clawed at my chest as their voices started to muffle and fade into the distance. I felt like I was drowning. I couldn’t breathe. I could feel my entire body consumed in flames, both my own and foreign. I tried to inhale, but my lungs stopped working. They felt like they were full of thorns. Each attempted breath was short and painful.

“You said I could have a piggyback ride if I unhexed your boots!” Came the voice of Alice again, maybe thirteen now, so I must have been eighteen. She was still so short then. Her head barely reached my chest.

I can still picture the way she would get a running start, then fly at my back, tackling me, and then she would hold on for dear life as I tried to peel her off of me.

I always let her win at that; it was just more fun to make her think it annoyed me. Because then she would do it more.

“Speak, boy!” Boomed, my father threw the haze of pain and memories. I felt his strong, massive hands grab my shoulders, and my body was hoisted upward.

My heart raced, and my ribs felt as if someone had taken an ax and cleaved it into my chest. The pain was so sharp and sudden, I opened my mouth to scream, but there was no sound, no air came out.

My hands hit the floor, my arms gave out under my weight. I writhed on the floor as the feeling of fire that was not my own consumed my body, and my ribcage was torn open by phantom hands.

“Thank you, Fishy,” came the slurred voice of adult Alice.

“Vaelaric!” Came the sound of my mother’s muffled cries as I felt her hands searching me for answers I couldn’t give her.

My own fire flared around me, trying to protect me from whatever this was. I pulled open my jacket and clawed at my chest, tearing through the layers of fabric.

. . .

“I-I,” I managed to choke out as my mother grabbed hold of my face again, turning me to look at her. My hands reach for her, clasping her wrists.

I felt like I was being gutted alive. My fire starts to consume me, I can’t control it. it weren’t for my father, I’d fall back to the floor; my body felt like a limp, lifeless sack of burning, searing pain. I felt at my chest again something was missing, something that had always been there.

“Stay with me, Little Ember,” my mother said, pulling me into her arms like I was a child again.”Stay with me, and breathe.”

“She’s,” I rasped, struggling to speak, my vision darkening.

“She’s what, Little Ember?” my mother asked.

“She’s gone.” The words burned my mouth as I turned in my mother’s arms. I closed my eyes and listened to my mother’s heartbeat as she held me tight to her chest, her hand stroking my hair.

“I-I… I can’t feel her anymore.”

I didn’t hear my father’s thunderous steps, only the sudden grip of his hand on my arm.

“Who would dare?”