Phoenix

Oroton

Oroton stood and walked past the fire pit at the foot of her bed and towards the window, robes swirling around his bare feet, giving him the aspect of floating. Though his wrinkled skin suggested otherwise, he portrayed none of the signs of old age, no stoop of the back, no uneven gait to his step.

He touched a spiky arrangement of red-tipped yellow flowers on the window sill, then leant down to smell them. "Flora." He sighed. "A strange coincidence of nature, don't you think? Their colour, their smell, their shape, so... unapologetic."

Ash listened without understanding. It was as though Oroton had forgotten she was there and had begun speaking to himself.

Finally, he looked back at her. "You're probably wondering why you're here."

She nodded.

"And yet, you know the answer, don't you?"

When she didn't respond, he continued, "The gift you possess is more powerful than most. Suppress it and it will consume you. Wield it without training and it will change your very composition. You must learn to be rooted in essence if you want to survive."

He was speaking in riddles. Ash was wary of those who didn't say what they meant. She decided to chance ignorance as she had in Emmeline Wilson's office. It had worked once, it might work again. "I don't know what you're harping about," she said.

Oroton gave her a long, searching look. "It's okay to be scared."

"I'm not scared."

Oroton glanced back out the window and sighed. "Here on Paradise Island, we run a training program for those with an aptitude for the forces. Earth, wind and water and fire. You must have an understanding of all before you can learn to wield one. You will begin with a few induction sessions to see if you're suited to our program. It will be hard, but no harder than living with a wild, untamed force."

Training? Induction? Sounded like some dodgy scientific experiment. Or the perfect guise for a rebel training camp. She'd gone from one hell to the next.

Thinking only as far as getting herself out of that room, Ash whipped off the tangled disarray of bed sheets and stood. But one glance at the door told her all she needed to know. Eli was now standing there, arms crossed, blocking her escape. They weren't going to let her leave that easily.

"Did you tell her?" Eli said.

Oroton nodded.

Her panic rose, as did the expanding heat in her chest that was becoming all too easy to conjure. She tried to push past Eli, but it was like trying to push past a brick wall. The heat in her chest expanded until it had nowhere to go and it was all she could think about. She needed to get out of that room before she set it on fire.

Eli glanced at Oroton. "She's not stable."

Oroton lowered his head and closed his eyes. "Let her through."

Eli stood his ground. "She could hurt someone. I've seen it. She burned a boy —"

Ash acted before he could condemn her for what she'd done. The heat swelled in her chest, burned down her arms and gathered at her fingertips. It travelled easily now that it had been done once before. Too easily. Her arms rose, aimed and ...

Eli grabbed her wrists, twisted them downwards, eyes locking with hers. There was a feeling of someone pushing back against her mind, damming the fire at her fingertips. She pushed back with all her might, felt the balance shift in her favour and watched Eli's eyes widen in surprise. The searing heat built to volcano pressure between then when there was a shout from the far side of the room.

"Enough!" Oroton swiped the vase of flowers from the window sill, sending splays of water across the room in two perfect jets, hitting them both between the eyes. The cold water, and the sound of glass smashing brought them back to bearing.

Eli stepped away from the door, forearms hissing as water dripped from his forehead and onto his arms, eyes suddenly dark as an eclipse.

Ash touched her sodden hair and looked down at the shattered catkins of glass on the floor, realising now, with the rage gone, how close she'd come to burning Eli in the same way she'd burned the boy on the street. And all for blocking her way.

The fire had been too accessible this time, too close to the surface. She hadn't been herself. Is that what Oroton meant when he said an untrained force could change a person?

A strange sound escaped her throat, half groan, half mewl. She looked down at her hands, which were red, blotchy and shaking. Her words were her own, yet she hardly recognised the smallness of her voice. "What do I do?"

Oroton drew himself to his full height and though he only came to Eli's shoulders, his presence was unmatched. "You can start by picking up those flowers." There was a deliberate slowness to his words, that made Ash look down at her feet. "Your induction will begin tomorrow. Be down at the tavern at eight am sharp. I will be in my room, two doors down, should your require my assistance."

At that, he strode past and disappeared out the door. Eli faltered behind him. "I came to give you these." He threw a box of matches into her hands, as though avoiding her touch. "For the fire pit. In case you got cold." His eyes flicked to the unlit coals at the centre of the room and he shook his head as though only just realising the redundancy of such a gift. He left the room without another word.

Ash stood for the longest time, not daring to look down at the matchbox that hung heavy in her palm. When she did, she saw it was wrapped in brown paper and hand-painted with small, half-germinated seed pods that curled upwards in intricate, interwoven patterns. Sprouts. How apt.

She placed the box on the bedside table and gazed at the catkins of glass still covering the canvas floor and the flowers sprawled like colourful cadavers around the bed. She thought of Jai and how mortified he'd be if he knew what she'd done, what she was becoming. Then, she climbed back into bed and buried herself in the sheets.

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