A Vortex of Ash

A Vortex of Ash

“You failed!” I seethe from my detritus throne. Leaning out of the tattered canopy’s shade, I wring my gloved hands in slow, deliberate motions. 

The dirt-crusted man drops to his knees, landing hard on the pavement as snivelling excuses dribble endlessly from his mouth. A crooked smile forms on my lips as excitement starts coursing through my veins. 

My queendom covers the back alleys of Detroit. I rule all the infested garbage and scum like this man. And I love every minute of it.

I sniff the air. “Mmm, you smell of my rot,” I say, licking my lips. The creature's annoying blubbering stops, replaced by the distant sounds of cars driving on wet roads. 

“But. Creatures of mine don't FAIL!” 

“Vortexia,” he whimpers pathetically. “I... I will make it up to you.” 

Rising to my feet, I step down from my throne, my feet crushing through the debris scattered over the ground like an elegant shag carpet. “Enough,” I snap as I deliver a sharp kick to my creature's chest, causing him to fall into a shallow oil-slicked puddle. 

Standing over him, I see pure, exhilarating fear in his vast, dilated pupils. I raise my hands, encased in thick, obsidian leather gloves that cling tightly to my skin. Slowly, I pull each finger out, one by one, and then remove the glove entirely. 

The acrid scent of urine suddenly replaces the usual delightful smell of dank decay. An uncontrollable laugh escapes my throat as I lean closer, “Are you ready to soar with the wind?” I jeer. 

The man opens and closes his mouth like a pitiful fish. Drawing in my lips, I bite down as a shiver of dark ecstasy courses through me in anticipation. Pure bliss has me drawing the moment out, slowly reaching for his face. 

With a sudden jerk, I slam my finger into his eye socket. The scream he emits is cut short as his entire body fractures into a million pieces, abruptly imploding in a cloud of ash. I smile as it swirls up and gets carried away on a phantom wind. 

I turn to my second in command, who stands in his usual position within the dark shadows of the alley's entrance. 

“Get someone else to scare those amateurs off my turf. Now.” I command. 

J’s tall form, expressionless, stands out of the shadows and calmly approaches. Once he gets unnecessarily close, his eyes bore into my soul.  

“I’m on it,” he states.

He raises a hand and rubs it down the beautiful mosaic of scarred skin that covers half his face. I narrow my eyes while I replace my glove and watch as he turns and exits the alley. 

What was that look for? 

I glance at the reflection in the puddle; a face, dark and distorted, looks back at me. With a snort, I swiftly turn and sit back on my throne. 

~

Later that day, I slink around the corner and return to my throne room. The sharp smell of rotting food greets me, and I let out a sigh of relief: Home. 

A glimpse of movement in the shadows has me whirling around, and my eyes instantly lock on J. 

“Is it done?” I question, letting the tension melt from my body. 

I eye him warily as he glides too close for comfort again. He gives a sharp nod. 

I lift my hands, showcasing my leather gloves to him. A silent reminder that if he gets too close, I could turn him to ash without batting an eye. The idiot doesn't even look at my hands; his eyes are glued onto mine.

“Back off, J,” I growl voice tinged with venom. I don't back away from anyone or anything. But, I take a step back for him. 

How dare he challenge me in my domain!

He reaches out and tries to grab my gloved hand. I clench them into fists, but he doesn't retreat. 

I take in a deep breath and relax my shoulders. This is J. He may be an idiot, but he's my idiot, and I need him. 

“V,” he says in a breathy whisper, his arms falling to his sides. 

Wrinkling my nose, I stomp away from him and climb up to my throne of piled refuse. “Your growing soft.” I scoff.  

“How can you be happy queening over these…” he stammers, searching for the right word, “These RATS.” 

“What do you want from me?” I yell too fast, and my face flushes from it. 

His shoulders slump, but he doesn't move, leaving my question hanging in the air between us.

“I have been with you from the start!” he howls, sending daggers into my heart. 

The nerve of him!

I am not about to let him see how his words stung me. With deliberate effort, I lift the corner of my mouth, sculpting an unimpressed smirk. 

“I burnt my FACE—for you! I was the one who pulled you away from that… that demon!” He continues, gesturing to the side of his face, covered in melted skin. 

“Stop sputtering your nonsense, crap.” I scowl, flicking my hand in a gesture to leave, then turning my face from him. “Go do rounds.”

He gives me another fierce look before withdrawing slowly. Just before he is out of sight, he sighs, “We can go back; we can take it all back.” 

Then he is gone. I can instantly breathe again as the musty air floods back around me. Breathing deeply and slumping back, I am left stewing over his words.

~

The dusky night brings forth every shadow—and every idiot as well. Fury churns within me like a tempest of wrath. It’s an unending struggle to keep my territory from the hands of these novice gangs. 

I shut my eyes for a fleeting moment, then unleash a gut-wrenching scream that pierces the eerily still air, freezing the wretched creature before me.

Will no one do what they're told? 

Then, swiftly inhaling, I draw back my gloved hand and deliver a ruthless blow to the woman's face. Its impact is brutal, sending her sprawling with a feeble little shriek. 

She lies in a pitiful heap, her shoulders convulsing with meagre sobs.  

Pathetic.

“You better rectify the problem today!” I fume, spittle flying from my lips and splattering her prone form. “Or obliterate,” I laugh, “ into a vortex of ash!” 

Poetic.

With a smile still lingering on my lips, I turn and gesture toward her huddled cronies. Their expressions are carefully neutral as they scuttle over to her, unwilling to draw any attention. Half-carrying her, they slink away from my alley.

I snatch a bottle from the side of my throne. It's warm, and its contents glistening a deep yellow. After loosening the cap, I hurl it at their retreating forms. The cap bursts open, drenching one of them with the liquid. The sweet symphony of echoing whimpers reaches my ears.

I slump back into my throne with a sigh of vicious satisfaction. J remains in his corner, his face illuminated by a sliver of moonlight, yet his eyes remain cast downward. The storm of anger begins to ebb like a receding tide.

I ignore him.

~

The relentless sun blazes high in the sky, causing sweat to trickle through the underarms of my shirt as I navigate a narrow alleyway cluttered with dumpsters. 

As I quest for new additions to embellish my throne room, I take a monstrous bite from a half-finished burger that some fool carelessly discarded. As I toss the cardboard burger box aside, an unexpected impact slams me against the grimy alley wall, stealing my breath. Fury surges through me like a phoenix reborn.

Gasping and choking on the half-swallowed bite of burger, I forcefully regurgitate it, spewing the vile mess into my assailant’s face. Stunned, they scramble to wipe the mess from the visage, granting me the opening to retaliate. 

With a sinister grin curving my lips, I deliver a swift and satisfying kick—unmistakably precise.

Glorious!

“V…” A harsh voice halts my arm mid-air, “Crap.” 

“J!” I hiss, annoyance seeping through my words “Imbecile! Explain yourself at once!” I brush off my shoulder. “What possessed you to attack me?” 

“I need to speak with you,” he mutters, readjusting himself.

I take a step back and lean against a wall. With a scoff, I inquire, “Really, and what discussion pairs soo well with a direct assault?”

He recovers, but some traces of the half-eaten cheeseburger still cling to his hair. 

“You’re losing control,” He says, standing tall before me. 

I arch an eyebrow, waiting for the explanation. 

“Yesterday, you reduced three people to ash over mere trifles.” He continues, tone filled with urgency. “I have a solution.”

Why is he turning into a baby? 

Sensing the desperation in his words, I remain silent. 

“We return to the cave,” his voice softens, “and ask the demon to recover their power.” 

I rise instantly, shoving him aside and stomp purposefully toward my throne room. 

“V, wait!” he scrambles to catch up with me. 

His recent spewing of useless feelings is exasperating.  

“I will take care of you!” he pleads. I halt mid-stride and glance back at him, my gaze locking with his. “Let me. Take care of you.”

I stand frozen, unable to react. 

Tears.

He seizes both of my shoulders, pulling me limply into him. 

He hugs me. 

~

As the stars above sprinkle their ethereal light, we stand side by side beside my throne. J outlines his plan for our visit to the cave and how I should negotiate with the demon. He has obviously given this a lot of thought.

As he yammers on, my gaze drifts toward my home — my throne room. My decorations line the walls. I walk up to a rat carcass I had affixed to the brick and gently caress it with my gloved hand. I glance at my glove and back at J, whose face is alight with the broadest smile I have ever witnessed on him.  

Perhaps, just perhaps, J is right.

“One thing before we go,” I interject, approaching him. I begin to remove my glove slowly. His eyes brim with curiosity, but he doesn't retreat. He is not scared of me. 

The air hits the exposed skin of my hand, and I can feel the lazy draft teasing the fine hairs on my skin. I lock my eyes with J’s and then press my bare hand against my throne. 

“No one will ever sit on this throne again,” I state firmly, never breaking eye contact with him, as a warm smile graces his stupid face.  

~ 

We stand before the entrance of a cave. I’ve questioned multiple times if this is indeed the correct cave. He is and demands I stop asking it. 

The cave appears rather ordinary, exposed by a dirt path in the park. Its entrance resembles a hobbit hole, though not as picturesque. The night is alive with the haunting cries of an owl and the muted clatter of an animal foraging through a nearby trash can.

“I’ll wait out here,” he squeezes my arms, “Like last time.” 

I inhale deeply and give him a curt nod - hoping he can see I'm calling him a coward with my eyes.  I kneel at the cave’s entrance and easily crawl inside. 

It's bigger than it appears from the outside. I continue crawling deeper, my knees noticing the change in the floor, from dirt to rock, before my eyes can see it. 

WHY HAVE YOU RETURNED?

A voice thunders into my skull, splitting it open. I clutch my temple and blurt out the lines J instructed me with earlier. 

“I have returned to restore your powers to you.” I stammer, sounding foolish. “They have been a boon, but I wish to walk a different path now.” 

YOU FORSAKE MY GIFT!

“No. No. I loved the gift. I did. Truly.” I falter, aware that I’m losing this battle, “I just wish to walk a different path now.”

THEN BURN!!

The cave convulses as if in the grip of an earthquake. I try to turn around, but I am stuck. The cave is shrinking. The air vanishes; I can't breathe. 

Rumbling thunders overhead. The voice in my head is a constant piercing shriek. It's deafening and painful; I can't think. I can't focus. What was I trying to do? 

Flames burst up through the ground, encasing my hands. The searing sensation overwhelms all my senses; I try rubbing the fire away, but it clings tighter. I scrape my hands on the walls of the cave against everything. 

I scream. It bursts from my lungs in a frenzy of torment. The corners of my vision start to darken as I stare at my hands cloaked in flames. 

I sense a tug at my back as my final breath escapes, and my vision succumbs entirely to darkness. 

I am being pulled free.

~

Amid the crisp morning, carrying the delicate scent of wildflowers, J and I stand in an empty graveyard. In the distance, a bird's mournful song fills the stillness. My reflection gazes back at me from the glossy headstone, the carved letters of my mother's name slicing through my face. 

I brush a tear with my sleeve, and J's hand tightens around mine. Despite my hands being scarred, I can feel his rough calluses, a testament to his life on the streets, a reminder of our shared past.

I squeeze his hand back. Our journey together has shown me the greatest power doesn't lie in turning your enemies to ash but in the choices we make for the ones we love. 

As we turn to leave, retracing our steps home, I reflect on moments when anger once consumed me—the lives I had taken. I don't miss the power and will never forget the crippling rage that came with it.