Mom and Dad both skidded their chairs farther to the left, since they could no longer see us from behind the desk. I had to admit, they both looked pretty funny—more like curious teenagers than the revered royals that they were. They weren’t the kind to dwell on the problem, anyway. They preferred focusing on the solution. Their attitude inspired me to lighten up a little, too. Sure, we’d lost people in a tragic way, but I couldn’t let that define my mindset. Clarity was a must.
“Depends on what we were looking for,” Amelia replied.
I noticed the way she bit her lower lip, unable to look Raphael directly in the eye, unless he had his attention elsewhere. Only then did she dare behold him, as if he were a marble statue, a stunning work of art in the middle of a grandiose museum. I had a feeling he fascinated her—and that was most likely an understatement.
“We’re looking for information,” Herakles replied. “Wasn’t that clear?”
Amelia smiled. “What kind of information? It’s a rhetorical question,” she said, raising a hand to silence Herakles as soon as he opened his mouth to respond. “Don’t answer that. Point is, if we’re looking for a better understanding of the fire fae, these documents, along with what Varga and Taeral might’ve gotten out of the Druid Archives, should be enough. I imagine it’s the same stuff across the board, and none of it tells us about fire fae being able to explode the way they did.”
“She’s right, you know,” Varga said, pursing his lips. “Fire fae need a fire source to manipulate and amplify. They don’t make their own, like Raphael here, for example.”
“I can do it because of Ta’Zan’s genetic tweaks,” Raphael replied. “The ability is there; it just needs to be activated on a molecular level, if I’m not mistaken.”
“You’re not,” Amelia murmured. “You are, in fact, absolutely correct. You were created with fae genes, and that’s where your fire ability comes from. Ta’Zan managed to bring it out as self-sufficient. Simply put, you don’t need to carry a lighter around.”
Raphael gave her a half-smile, then brought his hand up and snapped his fingers. The spark was instantaneous. It created a fireball in the middle of his palm, hovering just less than an inch from his skin. He clenched his fist, annihilating the flame. A thread of black smoke lingered for a moment, before vanishing into thin air.
Amelia blinked several times. “Maybe what’s happening to these fire fae is related to this ability. Or lack thereof, so to speak.”
“You’re saying that someone activated their ability to produce fire on their own, straight from their DNA?” I asked, slightly appalled by the potential implications. She nodded once. “Damn. So, what, they couldn’t take it? They went berserk? They glitched and blew themselves up? Could they even do that? I figured we’d have some kind of defense mechanism…”
“It could be amplified beyond the fae’s ability to control it,” Raphael suggested. “But it’s the only thing that makes sense, so far.”
“Okay. Fine. Let’s consider this possibility, then. The next question is who or what is causing the glitch. The overheating, so to speak,” I said.
Amelia shrugged. “There is no mention in these scrolls of a fire fae even being able to make fire out of thin air, like Raphael. Something tells me no one knew it was possible, until Ta’Zan started playing with their genes and made the Perfects. Therefore, there is absolutely nothing on such an ability even existing. None of these documents can offer anything useful on this topic.”
“But they can tell us a lot about fire fae culture, both old and new. Physical characteristics and the extent to which their fire abilities can go,” Eva added, noticing our frowns aimed at Amelia. “Plus, they also tell us that not all fae are immune to their fire. There have been instances of some literally burning themselves alive.”
Riza gasped, then pulled one of the scrolls out from the desk pile and unraveled it. “That’s right. Here,” she said, turning the loose parchment so we could see the list of names. “One did it in protest. Kind of cuckoo,” she added, circling the tip of her index finger next to her temple in order to emphasize that. “The other four were unable to control themselves. It just happened. Freak accidents.”
“I remember hearing the stories when I was a boy,” my dad interjected. “My grandfather used to warn me, telling me to be careful, to never let the anger take over my ability, or I could end up burning myself alive. I thought they were old wives’ tales, something to scare the kids with.”
Amelia shook her head. “Nope. They were recorded incidents, thousands of years old. With the possibility of such incidents occurring, along with the idea of someone or something switching a gene on inside the fire fae’s body, I figure we’re halfway through figuring out what’s going on.”
“My people are making fire of their own, and it’s killing them?” I asked, not sure whether I liked the conclusion.
“I’d say yes,” Raphael replied. “It makes sense. However, it would have to be one hell of a flame to make them explode like that, and kill so many others in the process, like actual bombs.”
“And the symbols.” Amelia sighed. “I can’t get those symbols out of my head.”
Mom got up and brought forward the crowning ceremony case files. The crime scene photos enclosed were downright gruesome, but we got a clear image of a partial symbol from the remains. It took a lot of energy on my part not to throw up at the sight of it all, but I had to tough it out. This was too important, and chances were, it wouldn’t be the last time I saw a mangled fae body.
“Like this, you mean,” Mom murmured, looking at Amelia.
“Yes. God, this is so awful,” she groaned.
We gathered around her as she browsed through the photographs. To me, they were all blistering flashbacks. I’d been there when the royal guards blew themselves up. Most of the fae present weren’t lucky enough to slip away in time. My mom and I had our teleportation abilities—otherwise, we, too, would’ve been injured or worse.
“I know I’ve said this before, but I can’t help but wonder if the attacks were aimed at us,” I said. “Or Mom and Dad, maybe. We were present at three of these events. And it was mostly members of our Royal Guard who went boom. Granted, at my coronation ceremony there were three guards, then the fourth. He was the mayor of a southern town, a couple of miles from here.”
“That is still a possibility, but I wouldn’t bank on it. Remember that these incidents happened on other planets, too,” Raphael replied. “Plus, if anyone in your Royal Guard would’ve wanted to kill you, surely they wouldn’t have had to follow you all the way to Calliope, twice, to do it. They’re with you at all times. I’m sure they could easily just catch you off guard inside the palace, at any time, if you or your parents were the target.”
“Besides, let’s not forget the whole ‘end is nigh’ discourse,” Varga said. “That wasn’t random.”
Eva crossed her arms, her brow furrowed as she drew a reasonable conclusion. “There are certain fire fae clearly fighting with some kind of entity or magic or something that makes them generate their own fire, then explode and die. That, we know for sure. They seem to have a message, as well, though we’re not sure it’s theirs, per se. The attacks seem targeted, but I have a feeling they’re not. This is what we’ve gathered from the actual events, plus these archives,” she said, pointing at the loaded desk, then looked at Amelia. “You said that, if we wanted to learn about the fae, the documents could be somewhat useful. What about the Hermessi?”
I felt my heart skip a beat and trip. It hurt my chest.
The concept of the natural elements being behind this seemed far-fetched and downright insane. What would’ve triggered them to do such things? What was their agenda? Hell, did fire itself even have an agenda?
“Only brief mentions in local lore,” Amelia replied. “Nothing of substance. I still think our best bet is to visit the Fire Temple.”
I nodded in agreement. “Vikkal, the templar there, will help us.”
“He did lead you to Bogdana, after all,” mom replied.
Amelia rubbed the back of her neck. I could almost feel the tension simmering out of her. This whole thing affected us differently—with Amelia, it seemed to require a neck rub to make it more bearable. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not drawing any conclusions about the Hermessi’s involvement, if there is any. It’s a can of worms I wouldn’t dare to open until we get more information about them.”
“She’s right,” Riza said. “I mean, assuming they are behind this. How the hell do you stop the natural elements if they act out? Also, why would they target the fire fae like this? Or any fae? The species itself is known for their soulful connection to fire, to water, to air, and to earth. It boggles the mind.”
“Well, we won’t get anything out of standing here and speculating, that’s for sure,” Herakles replied. “Let’s check out the Fire Temple, then.”
Knowing where it was, I had no trouble teleporting the whole crew over the hills and right in front of the majestic Fire Temple. I left Mom and Dad back at the palace. It was bad enough they’d nearly gotten hurt or maybe even killed three times—having them out in the open here would’ve been anything but wise.
The Fire Temple was as strange and as beautiful as I’d left it. Enormous and quiet, with columns which were now covered in red, orange, and black pictograms. A few things had changed, from what I could tell—minor decorative details that only I would’ve spotted, since I’d been here before. The fire theme was recurring in all the images, all of them designed to inspire awe and adoration toward the natural element. The fae were all depicted as anthropomorphic wisps dancing with the flames, bringing offerings and, in one particular frieze, letting themselves be devoured by bright orange fire.
Eva followed my gaze and noticed the painted stone. “Well, that can’t be good,” she muttered.
