"Ouch!" Alexia flinched, her body jerking as the flame singed her fingers. The heat licked her skin, leaving it reddened and blackened. She blew on her hand, shaking it in the air, her eyes wide as she stared at the damage.
"Where am I?" she muttered, voice low and edged with confusion. She turned toward the opposite side of the room. "Four corners? Seems like I'm boxed in." She cringed slightly, gagging. 'Corny.' She shook her head, refocusing her attention on the walls—black stone, etched with gold accents. They shimmered ominously in the dim light.
"Fate cannot be controlled or prevented," she whispered, the riddle from earlier replaying in her mind. Maybe there's something there... something I missed.
But before she could fully process the riddle, a low creaking sound broke through her thoughts. Her brows furrowed, unease prickling down her spine.
The walls. They were moving.
Her breath caught in her chest as the walls inched closer, a slow but relentless pressure closing in. 'No!'. Her pulse raced, heart pounding in her ears as panic gripped her. She placed her hands against the smooth, unyielding stone, pushing with all her might. "Stop," she whispered through clenched teeth. "Let me out. I'll listen to my brother. Father, I'm sorry... Please, I can't breathe."
A flash of memory hit her like a wave— eleven years old, locked in the shack at the dragon cemetery, cold seeping into her skin, the whispers that haunted her thoughts. The sensation of being trapped, suffocating in the dark, flooded back.
Trembling, she curled into herself, shutting her eyes tightly, her breath ragged. "No. No. You're not there. Keep it together. Happy thoughts." She repeated it like a mantra, her chest heaving as she forced her eyes open again. Her gaze fell on the tiny flame still flickering in the center of the room.
"I know how to fix this," she muttered, her voice trembling but resolute. She stretched her hand toward the flame, her palm facing the burning light. As her fingers dipped into the fire, the heat seared into her skin, and the scent of roasting flesh filled the air.
Yet she didn't flinch. The searing pain only made her relax, as if the pain was familiar, comforting even, in a twisted way. But just as quickly, the flame recoiled, darting away from her outstretched hand.
She blinked, confused, but something in the flickering light told her it wasn't fear—it was something else, something she couldn't quite grasp. What? She frowned, her body tensing, but the flame had already retreated to the farthest corner of the room.
She laughed. "Little flame can't bear watching me hurt myself?" Her eyes gleamed mischievously. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. Nothing major. It's not real, so let's focus on escaping."
The flame flared up in response, crackling as if to scold her. She held her burnt hand, biting her lip. "Okay, okay. I'll stop being dramatic." She straightened, though she had to bend slightly despite her petite frame.
"Fate cannot be controlled. My fate is not to get squashed. At least, if I die, I want people to cry for me. So, we are not dying today." She plopped onto the ground, closing her eyes, trying to remain calm, though her clothes were soaked in sweat.
The walls kept closing in. The little flame had no choice but to drift closer to her. But then it stopped, hovering just before her face.
Alexia opened her eyes cautiously, noticing the stillness of the walls. A breath she didn't realize she was holding escaped her. She winked at the flame. "See? Everything worked out in the end."
The flame didn't respond, floating in silence.
"No reply? Damn it!" She swore as the floor beneath her gave way, plunging her into the unknown depths.
Plummeting through the air, her body splayed out like a starfish, Alexia couldn't tear her attention away from the little flame. It had materialized a tiny book, flipping through the pages leisurely. She grinned, unable to help herself, and soon burst out laughing, clutching her stomach. The sound, carefree and bright, cut through the tension of the falling descent.
Wiping a tear from her golden eyes, she propped her chin up with her hand and kicked her feet as if lying in a hammock. "Is the story good?!" she yelled, her voice barely cutting through the rushing wind. The flame glanced up from its book, and her eyes sparkled with amusement. 'Are those gold-rimmed glasses? Nice touch,' she thought, still laughing.
The flame wriggled, the book vanishing in a puff of smoke that swirled around it. She gasped, fanning the smoke away. "You're so cute! Let me hug you!"
She reached out to catch it, but the flame danced just out of her grasp, wiggling its bottom in a teasing manner. A mischievous glint flickered in her eyes. "Oh, it's on now," she muttered under her breath, her movements becoming more intense as she chased it.
The flame always stayed one step ahead, taunting her, dodging her hands with a growing disdain for her inability to catch it. "You really think you can escape me?" she called out, determined.
The flame bounced twice in the air in response, as if daring her to try harder. Alexia's gaze dropped to the rapidly approaching ground below. The humor in her eyes flickered for a moment, but her smirk remained. "Time sure flies when you're falling to your doom," she remarked dryly, her voice tinged with amusement. She curled her body instinctively, closing her eyes. "At least this will be the least painful way to break all my bones," she added, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
But the impact she expected never came. Instead, she felt an unexpected wave of heat and warmth surround her. Cautiously, she opened her eyes and smiled. The sensation of softness beneath her hands was almost... addictive.
"Fluffy?" she whispered, staring down. To her surprise, she was sitting in a floating cloud of warm flames.
"Aww, you do care," she cooed, her voice dripping with mock sweetness.
The flame rolled its eyes in a way that was almost comical, and with a flicker, the cloud evaporated into mist. Without warning, Alexia was sent plummeting again, her body colliding with the ground in a harsh thud. A rush of pain shot through her as blood trickled from her wounds.
Biting back a scream, Alexia pushed herself up, her limbs trembling. The impact still echoed through her body, but she forced herself to move, taking in her surroundings.
Her fingers tightened on the cold surface, pulse quickening. Something was here.
"Why am I here again?" Alexia muttered, her voice hushed and hoarse. "I just want one stone, not some mystic powers. So why?!" She exhaled sharply, resisting the urge to scream outright.
Each step left a faint smear of blood behind her, the damp stone cool beneath her battered feet. The thick green mist coiled around her waist, sluggish and eerie, shifting with her movement. Leaning against a weathered stone pillar, she took a shaky breath, forcing herself forward. The air was heavy with the scent of age, decay—
And blood.
She huffed out a laugh, barely more than a breath. "Fun fact—did you know dragons have two hearts? But I think I might've grown an extra one since I'm still standing."
The little flame crackled softly in response, flickering as if unimpressed.
She pouted, then hissed. " I hope I never see another fish faced water breathing, exotic idiot again. Nuh uh."
Footsteps echoed through the underground cavern—but none of them were hers.
Alexia's left eye twitched as she shot a silent look at the little flame.
It flickered, clearly exasperated, but still trying to help. Without a word, it floated off, leading her deeper into the cavern. Soon, she found herself standing before a massive onyx stalactite that stretched from ceiling to floor.
She stared at it, refusing to acknowledge the obvious conclusion forming in her mind.
"Flame, my dear, what exactly am I supposed to do here?"
The flame didn't even bother turning to face her. Instead, it began climbing.
"Of course," she muttered. "Tell the injured, exhausted patient to scale an ancient hanging rock. Very sensible."
For a moment, the flame just hovered in place, staring at her. Then, without a single spark of sympathy, it continued its ascent.
She hissed, wrapping her arms around the stalactite and pushing herself up. "It loves me!"
She climbed higher. "It loves me not."
Hand over hand, she kept moving, leaving a smeared trail of blood, dirt, and sweat on the onyx surface. Her tattered dress snagged against the rough stone, fraying even further.
"It loves me not," she huffed, pausing to catch her breath. "That's surprising."
Her body trembled as she finally reached a stable point near the base of the stalactite. Ignoring the sting of her wounds and the ache in her limbs, she forced herself to focus. Height meant advantage. From here, she could finally search for the source of the footsteps.
In the dimly lit cavern, her golden eyes locked onto the unmistakable shimmer of luminous hair, a small army of merfolk gathered before an ancient statue.
Alexia's grip tightened on the stalactite. No. Why are they here? A sharp pang of frustration shot through her. She had barely dealt with the two love-struck guppies at the cave entrance, and now an entire battalion stood in her way?
Her lips twisted into a scowl. "And I already used most of my passion powder on those doe-eyed, star-crossed lovers," she muttered, pressing her forehead against the cold stone. This is just unfair.
In the shadows, Alexia exhaled, steadying herself. With a flick of her wrist, a small pouch materialized in her palm, its surface shimmering faintly before dulling.
She gave it a shake. A meager amount of red powder shifted inside. Not much, but enough.
Tilting the pouch, she let the fine dust drift downward in delicate, almost lazy spirals—silent, unseen, and full of mischief.