Warmth Beyond Flames

(Story includes death, and sacrifice)

Two lovers were almost dead amidst a crowd, yet both denied any possibility of a future without the other. After all, like a pair of swans, one would not go on without the other.

It was the last night of nature's culling, and the harshest winter the village of Andanca had ever seen. Everyone gathered in the Drunken Grotto Inn. 'Everyone' being around fifty people. Forty-three were locals, and the remaining seven were travelers trapped by the snow. The lovers were also among the outsiders. Stuck. On a simple journey back home they visit the closest chapel where they could be wed. It had been several days since gathering at the inn. The remaining fire was beginning to diminish, and the only solution was deadly.

Magic was dangerous, even at the best of times. There were the basics of healing magic, in which the user took on half of the injury of the patient. Magic through calling upon one's faith, which commonly led to madness for seeing holy images beyond comprehension. Using evocation through the magic of elements meant that earth could prematurely weaken bones, water could drown its user, and magic of the air could fill the veins and cause a heart attack. Worst of all was fire. Pyromancy.

"I've never used it to such a high degree, only a little warmth or kindling for a flame here and there," Achilla lied to her lover. A white lie, but a lie all the same. In her mind, many events using pyromancy flashed by. Like gold coins filling a purse, they seemed like nothing until gathered amass. They seemed like nothing in each moment. She was only twenty-seven, yet any more spells could cut her life short. She curled her lips in a snarl as she thought angrily of her younger self. But what could she have known?

Warmed hands each winter. Lighting fires for cooking purposes. Using flames to defend villages from raiders. Slowly warming the baby that was born far too cold to survive... Achilla’s mind was filled with each one. It was too many to count. The wind seemed to blow right through the wooden walls, bodies packed together and all but one were cold. Crisp air mixed with the lingering smell of booze from the bar. It whistled as it came. The chills spared no one, as nature was as indiscriminate in its wrath as it was in its kindness. Bodies huddled close together, and silent prayers were sent to the heavens.

“It doesn’t matter,” Elysium whispered harshly, eyes darting to and fro anxiously. “We agreed you would stop…” They trail off. Slowly trying to catch their breath despite only sitting there.

Others were starting to glare over at them. Did they already suspect? If anyone else found out, well, she wouldn’t have a choice in the matter. Even though they would be asking for death, they wouldn’t care. They didn’t know her after all. She was another nondescript face who would be forgotten despite the sacrifice they would wish from her. She looked away from the crowds, “Elysium – Eli… Will you be alright?”

Her eyes watched theirs. Elysium doesn’t lie.

And that they didn’t, instead, they merely stayed silent. For better not to speak than to utter a lie.

She huddled closer to them, the cold from Elysium’s body sent a jolt through her. The sudden contact made her warmth all the more apparent.

Achilla's veins burned through her arms to her fingers. Her heart was always racing, and a warmth filled her body. Not a comforting warmth, no, it had been many moons since it was last comforting. It was the type of warmth melted metals, not the comforting one of a hearth. She had stopped using her magic, but the effects of its use remained. There was only one thing that kept her from a life focused on such discomforts. Her muse, her love, her Elysium; and they were dying slowly beside her.

She huddled closer, wrapped her arm around them, and pulled their cover tighter.

“We’re going to get through this, just hold on please.” She whispered. Elysium was hardly able to focus on her words now.

The quilt was wrapped around the pair, and with Achilla’s burning form her lover should have been safe and sound. Yet years of their healing her had led to them both being weakened, but happy. As long as they were together, did it matter? Yet now as she looked at them, she felt only guilt as she saw where their sacrifice had left them. Elysium always told her that they’d move on from it. That magic was in the past so they could have a future. They planned to be wed, to travel south, and open a flower shop. But is there a future beyond this moment for us?

Either… Elysium will die before this storm passes and I will live on, or I –

She shut her eyes tight. Or I burn and give them a second chance at life.

Elysium’s breathing had slowed, their skin pale and blue beyond any other person taking refuge. If only they hadn’t healed me, perhaps I’d be in pain but at least Elysium would be able to weather this storm.

Achilla shut her eyes. Imagining a future for Elysium in which she wasn’t there… She blinked fast to ignore the tears that threatened to spill at any moment. Is it selfish of me to not wish for such a future?

She focused on the flames nearby. Baby embers were left dancing on what wood was left in the fireplace.

We all burn in the end anyway, only some of us choose what fire takes us.

And mine is to burn for you.

She mutters a few words close in Elysium’s ear; words which need not be shared. Their eyes widen in horror.

Esylium grabbed her arm with weak and shaky hands. “There are other options… we can get through this!” As Achilla stood, they struggled to try to hold her back, but the cold had weakened Elysium’s body too much. All they could do in protest was utter weak objections as she began.

She focused on the fire, stopping beside the flames, and reached out like she had many times before. Willing them to grow. To feed. To bloom. Her veins felt as though they were screaming out at her like a kettle when the water reached boiling point. Her heart rate rose to unbelievable heights, and other areas of her body began to burn and give out.

The chatter grew loud and wild in the small crowd. Achilla fell to her knees beside the flame as it grew bigger than her small frame. Elysium crawled across to her, the sound of wooden floorboards creaking pitiful as they could not even stand for their lover. Tears that would once freeze rolled freely down their cheeks as warmth filled the air. Before the light even left her eyes, warmth-starved people began to make their way towards the flame like moths to a light.

“We almost made it,” Achilla whispered. "But you need to continue without me now." She reached out and touched Elysium’s face and they flinched from the heat.

As people began to crowd around, the innkeeper spread his arms and stopped those who were trying to rush to be closest to the flames. Shoving those away who would try to push past him.

“Let them get closest, this flame wasn’t made for us.” He said in a low voice.

Her hand fell from their face, and slowly any light left her eyes.

Slowly, others made their way to be near the flame, the warmth spread far enough for all to bask in its embrace. Yet even as Elysium’s body warmed, they did not feel it. Face ragged as they bawled close to their love. An ungodly sound came from their lips. Ragged howls like a broken animal. Yet he lived.

And so, for those who live on. We are never the same, for a blazing fire will change even the strongest of metals and the weakened hearts of those who find comfort in its warm embrace.