After partly avenging her mother's death, Evette Star, the illegitimate daughter of an elven king, sets off on a warpath to find the adversary of her people.
The human King in the West, Dracul Dregoth, has locked himself away in a stone tower for r...
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Evette blinked, her tears washing away the dirt that had quickly settled on her skin. She coughed loudly, spewing air that her lungs refused to accept. Black smoke billowed in the empty space, reaching up toward the ceiling. She stood, her life practically flashing before her eyes as the stench of charred flesh and black smoke invaded her senses. She squinted her eyes, hands shaking as she helplessly glanced toward the open archway on the other side of the hall. The wall of shadow had disappeared, uncovering the open hall that led to the level she stood on. She turned away for a moment in search of a way through the flames that encircled her, and when she turned back, her eyes fell on the pathway that had led her down to where she was now. She was searching for a way out—something, anything.
Eve stepped toward the flames, but they only roared at her, growing taller as she tried to escape their grip. The fire that she had conjured within herself did not burn her, but these flames would, if given the chance. They were filled with fury, and as they ate away at the innocent wolves who tossed and turned on the floor, she felt her heart start to go up in smoke. It cracked into a thousand pieces, shattering in her chest.
Jamie was the first to reach the hall, followed by his sister and others Evette did not recognize. They stared at her through the flames, watching as they grew higher and higher, leaving her unburnt.
Narcisse stood amongst them, pushing his way around the others so he could stand closest to the flames, blood drying on his tan skin and worn clothes. Evette could feel his heartbeat from where she stood, unable to reach him. It only added to the overwhelming pain she felt. Her lungs were struggling to pump enough oxygen into her system, her head pounded; she felt his painful heartbeat throb in her sensitive ears from across the room. Some of the smoke rose toward the hole in the ceiling, but most was trapped in the invisible bubble that surrounded her.
Their expressions were horrid; their gazes fell on her, assessing the scene before them. Evette's fear and guilt only drove the flames to spread faster. Though heat blurred her vision, she could see the light in their eyes fade. The girl who once trusted her, had been painted a picture that turned her against Eve. Jamie was silent, as he could not speak words, unable to tell his sister or the others that Evette was not the one who had inflicted such evil upon Collin and the lunar wolves.
They once looked at her with hope in their eyes, admiring her angelic beauty, but now, they looked at her with hatred, quick to blame. Dracul had outsmarted her. He had created the flames knowing that anyone who had not known he was underground would see her as the one who had started the fire, burning innocents alive. It was a convincing image, seeing as the flames did not touch the girl who stood in the center of the chaos. Jamie was the only one who knew the truth, and Eve hoped that he would someday soon be able to share it. Right now, he could not. He could not speak, and he could not write, and even if he wished to try, there was no time.
Part of Narcisse knew Evette was not the one who had created the flames. The other, more skeptical part of him, wondered for a brief moment if she was the culprit. He hated himself for even pondering it. The fear in her eyes told him all that he needed to know. She hardly had any time to ponder the truth of what had happened, as all Eve could think of was reaching Narcisse, and escaping the flames.
