A New Age, of old strength and allies (ONC 2023)

5. The pain of survival

As I listened, I felt a spine-chilling cold tip-toe down the nape of my neck. When I looked up, I met his gaze head on, and we both knew what he was going to tell me.

I unconsciously took a deep breath in.

His eyebrows lowered and his jaw tensed. “You were attacked by those wielding heavenly fire, and now the energy resides within you. When you passed out, your skin lit up with a soft golden glow. The flames healed your wounds, but condemned you to excruciating pain as a consequence.” His voice had softened to a velvety tone, but his words ruined the beauty of its allure.

My breathing quickened as I looked down, my shallow breaths sending a fiery ache screaming through my chest. Yet, just as my vision blurred, his roughened fingertip lifted my chin. I blinked, trying to clear my vision as I narrowed my eyes, before closing them to retain a measure of control. My breathing exercises helping.

Who would’ve thought, that narcissistic arse and his love of whale music, actually taught me at least one useful technique. Although I’ll die before ever admitting it aloud.

The next thing I knew, Cain’s thumb had joined his index finger on my chin, pressing down with a subtle pressure. The moment I opened my eyes, an eerie calmness seemed to pour over me as our gazes locked.

“It’s not over,” he said. An intensity flooding his eyes, as I felt myself falling into a familiar, unfeeling state. Empty and closed off.

“Don’t.” He tipped my head back. “Stay with me.”

“It’s not like I’ve anywhere else to be right now..., except to maybe fall into the bottom of a bottle.” I yanked my chin from his loose grasp, instantly regretting the sharp pain that lanced through me, as I almost lost my balance.

“Take this...,” he opened a small ornate flask. “Seen as you’ve ignored my warning.”

As I accepted the flask, a pleasantly sweet aroma rose, a softly floral scent reaching me.

Without looking at him, I knocked it straight back. At that moment, I couldn’t have cared less about what it was. He raised an eyebrow at me, his smile humourless. I shuddered at the tart kick of the aftertaste as I handed it back to him, our fingertips brushing.

“I don’t know for how long your pain and fever will last, as there's only ancient rumour and legends regarding heavenly fire.”

He raised his chin as his pale grey eyes glinted in the half light. “How do you feel about stories of old?”

At his seriousness, I merely narrowed my eyes. It was more than enough for him.

His eyes briefly flickered closed, as he began. “There’s always been a legend of those who have been touched by heavenly fire gaining immortality, and being able to miraculously heal, along with the ability to produce deadly white flames.” He smirked, running a hand over the nape of his neck, his silky ponytail sliding over one shoulder. “Although to gain such a gift, the vessel touched by the divine flames must not wield the power for thirty days and thirty nights. There's always a catch, and by not wielding the flames, the vessel experiences excruciating pain and recurring fevers - which is why those we witnessed the other day were wielding the energy. As a consequence, they lose their sanity and their lives.” As he finished, he looked me dead in the eyes.

Not sure what to say, I simply stared back at him. The weight of everything pressing down on me.

From bad to worse, to fucking impossible.

If what he said was true, then I’d suffer from bouts of pain and fever, yet afterwards I may live to find myself in possession of another gift, immortality.