One
One
L’am
We told ourselves that we came of the moon; struck as if a flint by steel, the shards came crashing through the heavens, seeding the continent with our ancestors. No evidence lends credence to this theory, yet it still holds in the hearts of the young and the very old. In truth, we came about as all other species did. We were not special, living as custodians of bounty ingrained the notion of specialness into us. That is a dangerous notion.
-Living memories: An Account of Twelve Millenia
I was making tea when it happened. Nothing crazy.
One minute the kettle was on the flame—boiling ever so slowly—the next the flames engulfed the stove. I remember staring at it, annoyed at the old stove.
I was sitting in the kitchen chair, reading the exciting part of last week’s council notes, where Var had accused them of falsifying two decades worth of education records. Whether ar possessed evidence or was just being Nar was still open to be seen.
Then the candles’ flames tripled in size. That got my attention.
“Oh shit.” I shoved out of my seat and grabbed the cloth beside the stove.
The fire surged; it swallowed the kettle in wicked orange flames. I slapped at it, and it surged maddeningly higher. There are moments in life where intelligence abandons you completely.
I lived for three hundred and thirty-seven years. I had completed my education, I had served on the council, I had learned six dead human languages, I had translated their tomes. None of that wisdom stopped me from attacking a burning stove with a dishcloth. I beat the flames. They rose higher. I panicked. They climbed the cabinetry—singing the wood my ini-cara had carved by hand. I panicked harder. They roared towards the ceiling. That was when I screamed for Sa’ar.
The kitchen door opened, and oi walked through wearing nothing but ol raggedy home trousers and the expression of someone who did not expect a column of flame to greet oi in the morning. Oi stopped, assessing the situation.
’’Sa’ar, help me! Don’t just stand there. Help me, damn it!” I exclaimed, beating the flames with every ounce of my ability. Oi still did not move. Ol just stared, at me, at the stove, at the candles consuming themselves, then back at me. Something changed in ol face, subtle at first—fear, then disbelief, then joy? “Sa’ar! Help me!”
“L’am.”
“The fucking cabinets!”
“Stop.” Oz voice—that deep resonance in my dreams—was so very calm despite the madness of the moment.
I hit the flames again. They surged around my hand and up my arm. I froze, paralyzed to watch them, expecting the burn. It did not come. They simply danced near my skin. That should have been the moment I understood, but quick learning was not a Nar trait. I spoke ever so carefully, so as to not disturb the flames. “Sa’ar, are you seeing this?”
“I am.” Oi replied in that absurd calm, still at the doorstep. Oi took one careful step towards me.
“They should be burning me.”
“Correct.”
“But…they’re not.”
“Also correct.”
I looked at the candle flames, and watched as they leaned towards me in response, all six of them. Not with the wind, there was no wind, no draft inside the kitchen. The dishcloth fell from my hand.
The flames dropped, finally releasing my arm. I stepped away from the stove, staring at the black soot that now marked the millennia-old-cabinetry. The room grew quiet. “What did you do, Sa’ar?”
“Nothing.” Oi replied, wrapping ol arms around me. Oi still smelled of ink from writing all night. Oi could never sleep when there was work to be done.
“Sa’ar! This is not a game!”
“I didn’t do anything, L’am.”
“Wh…what?”
“You calmed down. That’s why they stopped.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, pulling away from the embrace and looking into oz eyes. I watched them flicker between me, the candles, the stove, and down to my belly.
“It was you,” Oi spoke again, looking back into my eyes. “You calmed the flames. To be fair, you also stoked them, bu—”
I took another step back—unable to keep oz gaze—and looked to the candles. They leaned towards me, damn near lifting off their wicks. That couldn’t be, there was no way. We’d been trying for decades. I lifted my hand, beckoning towards the candle on the kitchen table.
It doubled in size, lifted clean off the wick, and floated towards me on still air. I watched as the lazy stream of flame came over and settled itself onto my palm. Holy shit.
I splayed my fingers and turned my palm. The flame responded by twisting around my fingers. “We…we did it?”
“Yes, love. We did.” Sa’ar responded with a warm smile, eyes crackling as oi watched the flames play in my hand. “We’re having a child.”
“Where’s Aven?”
“Ip is out with the—
It was then that the front door opened. We both turned to see Aven walk in sideways, one hand gripping Kada’s collar. That young goat stuck by ip like glue.
“Before either of you say anything,” Ip announced, trying to keep the goat out. “This is not my fault.”
The goat bleated and struggled against ip, eventually sliding past and entering our home as if she owned the place. Aven followed after, sweating from the effort of corralling the tempestuous beast. Ip froze when ip saw the two of us in the kitchen—flames still dancing in my hand.
“It absolutely is your fault.” I replied, barely containing my smile.
Ip remained frozen, looking at me, then Sa’ar, then at the goat who was busy chewing on the rug. “You’re joking.”
“Ar most certainly is not.” Sa’ar replied, a tinge of humor cracking oz voice.
“Holy shit.” Ip replied, dropping to iz knees.
“Holy shit.” Sa’ar and I affirmed. I turned my palm back up and willed the flame brighter. I felt the heat leave my body as it grew in size, dancing wildly against a non-existent wind.
Aven’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again as ip stood and walked over to the two of us.
I closed my hand—extinguishing the flame—and let iz hug encompass the three of us. I drew the heat from the room into the three of us in that embrace, felt it warm our spirits as we all quietly sobbed and chuckled at our fortune.
“Flame, an Oti.” I stated the obvious after some time, still locked in my partners’ arms.
“We’re gonna need to tell the census.” Sa’ar replied.
Thoughts of evaluation, training, and command entered my brain unprompted at oz words. I couldn’t handle that right now. Not when we had this miracle between us.
’Later,” I said after some time.“Later. I just want to enjoy this moment for now.”
“Why does it smell like burnt wood?”
“Don’t ask.” Sa’ar chuckled.
