7.Up in Flames

~Esmarie Seraphine Vale~

“You seem to crave the taste of death,” it gnarled, its voice distorted like a thousand voices overlapping. “Then let me show you what true pain feels like.”

A petrified scream tore from my throat as I scrambled back, the heels of my feet digging into the earth. But the more I tried to move, the more the ground pulled me down like it too wanted me to stay. To suffer.

The monster loomed above me. Its features twisted with bloodlust and rage.

“P–please—” The word barely left my mouth before it leapt, and claws as sharp as razors sank into my shoulder.

I woke up screaming.

For a moment, I didn’t know where I was, just that I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t escape the sensation of teeth sinking into my flesh. My hands clutched at my arms, my chest—anything to reassure myself that I was still whole.

It was just a dream.

A terrible,  gut-wrenching dream.

My chest heaved, skin slicked with sweat as my eyes adjusted to the early morning light.

The trunk of the tree I was under brushed against my arm as I tried to push myself upright, to catch sight of where I truly was.

How did I get here?

The last thing I remembered was crawling, barely conscious and bleeding… and then—I stumbled upon glowing orbs… like the sun.

Oh my God.

The creature.

My head whipped around so fast I was sure I’d given myself whiplash. I scanned the vast expanse of the clearing.

Empty.

The only sound was the waterfall, roaring as it crashed down the cliff’s edge like nothing had ever happened.

I didn’t know what exact feeling erupted in my chest—grief, maybe, or disappointment—but it was suffocating. My shoulders slumped as I leaned against the tree trunk.

It was gone.

No trace of blood. No claw marks on the earth. No prints. Nothing.

It was like it had never existed. Like I had conjured the whole thing up to distract myself from the living nightmare I called a life.

I pushed my hair back, peeling damp strands away as I dragged a shaky hand down my face.

Was I truly destined to marry the Mayor and become his trophy wife for the rest of my life.

To be passed from one house to another, one place to another, Where love always came with terms and conditions. Where my life and survival lay in the hands of men who gave no shit about whether I lived or died.

I had been careless for a short moment, thinking my outright rejection would prove to them that I was person of my own but that moment of false and misplaced bravely only opened my eyes to see that I couldn’t stand on my own two feet  and the very fact that I was perceived as an object was the only thing keeping me alive.

It’s over, I thought bitterly. The fantasy was over.

Whatever small piece of rebellion I had thought I could cling to—the slap, the refusal to marry him, the wild idea of escaping—it had all crumbled. I had no weapons. No strength. No magic savior rising from the woods.

And so, I did the only thing a girl like me could do.

I turned back toward home.

I didn’t know what I would say to them. To him. Maybe I would beg. Maybe I would cry. Maybe I would get on my knees and let the shame burn through me like acid if it meant I could eat, sleep, and survive.

My battered feet dragged with every step as I crossed the mossy path. Every single part of my body ached as i took one step after the other.

I hadn’t thought about the fact that I would have to say goodbye to this place if I go ahead with getting married. I would never be let out of his sight, burdened with the task of raising children and hanging off his every word.

This was my place. My Sanctuary.

The bitterness in my heart seemed to spread through my veins like venom.

I tried not to look back as I slipped through the cracks in the old stone wall. The forest fell behind me like a closed door, and for this moment, I knew I had to focus on one thing–how to earn forgiveness.

I could still come back and say goodbye later.

Cornelius would want more than an apology. And I knew exactly what he would suggest I do to earn his forgiveness.

I swallowed hard, bile rising in my throat.

Would I have to touch him?

The thought made my stomach twist violently, but what choice did I have? Pride wouldn’t keep the belt off my back or food on the table.

I barely even noticed that I had crossed the main road until I began to climb the gentle slope that led toward the house, eyes low, fixed on the muddy path ahead. My mind spun with imagined apologies and careful phrases. I almost didn’t notice the scent at first—a strange, acrid tang carried faintly on the wind.

I paused, nostrils flared with suspicion.

Something… burned.

My eyes lifted just slightly, and the slow curl of smoke teased the sky above the hilltop.

I blinked.

No—surely not.

I quickened my pace, climbing the hill faster now, ignoring the sting in my ribs and the ache in my thighs.

As I reached the crest, the world came to a stop.

Literally.

My house—if you could call it that—was gone.

Flames had eaten through the timber. The roof had caved in. Black smoke poured from every crevice like a demon crawling out of hell.

And there was blood.

So much blood. It stained the grass. Spilled over the steps. Painted the broken stones like a grotesque mural. The garden I had spent hours cultivating looked like a canvas, with blood streaked across the petals of different colors almost in a deliberate fashion.

My knees buckled as I caught sight of two familiar figures strewn across the patch of carnations, crumbling the flowers with their weight.

Micheal and Jared.

They weren't moving, with their faces turned away from me but I could very much see the gaping hole where Jared's arm used to belong.

Tremors with the intensity of water waves rippled through my spine as I stood rooted to the spot, my eyes desperately locked unto the massive figure that stood tall in the midst of the smoke and ruin.

It was a man.

Naked to the bone. His skin was slick with blood and ash.

He was facing away, but something about the slope of his shoulders… the stillness in his posture…

I took one harrowing step closer. Then another.

And then he turned.

Eyes met mine.

Golden.

My mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Behind him, sprawled across the scorched earth, was my father.

Or what was left of him.

Ripped apart. Torn to pieces like paper and bone. His face—what remained of it—frozen in a scream.

I stumbled back.

But my gaze couldn’t leave his.

Those eyes…

It wasn’t possible.

The creature.

It was him.