Karamakov•Tom Riddle FanFiction

Hope

The earth has music for those who listen

She was on a bed of coal, being gently licked by the fire. Sparks danced against her back, spreading lightening-white pain with each step.

Her eyes were flooded with unshed tears, turning them from a vibrant green to a vigorous grey.

Ferociously, flames engulfed her pale body, ripping screams from her exposed chest and clawing at her once silky skin.

Golden hair burst into a river of oranges and reds before pushing aside the illusion and settling on a stale black.

Plump lips, fresh fingernails, freckles, and everything once so graceful was scorched into powder.

Finally, after everything beautiful was torn from her, the heat burned towards her heart with the slow pleasure of a hunter.

Achingly slow, the predator enclosed its prey, bringing its hunt to an end.

Yet the coals still blazed on as the girl rested in her bed of ashes.

***

Gasping, Kenna dragged her body up and clutched at her pounding heart. Sweat dripped from her enkindled body and her vision was blurred.

Yet, through all the initial confusing, everything within her was pulsing with determination and piecing the puzzle together.

Her mind began to accelerate until it wouldn't calm even when Kenna willed it, for the thoughts didn't belong to her anymore.

They belonged to the dead woman; the burning woman. The woman of fire and ashes. They belonged to the Banshee. They belonged to the daughter of death.

Tenderly, two hands enveloped Kenna's shaking ones and soothed them to stillness. And bravely, she began to open her eyes until they focused on the smiling man in front of her.

Kenna forced herself to return Caleb King's kind gesture though she guessed it looked strained. Her stomach was still uneasy but finally her mind came to its final conclusion.

"Her name is- was Cassie. She was burned in a... house fire. In... in" - she scratched her neck impatiently - "Wales?"

For all that pain, the pathetic amount of information she had gotten made Kenna feel ashamed. However, Caleb was grinning proudly as he carefully squeezed her hands before standing straight.

Hastily, Kenna ran a hand through her sweat-drenched hair and reminded herself of her surroundings.

She was in a four-walled room; it was small and tidy with deep red sofas, one of which Kenna was seated on, and a mahogany writing desk with a wooden floor and roof.

When Kenna had first saw it, she liked the comfortable room, but right now it felt like the pretty red curtains and the comfortable sofa were made of blood.

Uncomfortably, she scratched her arm, leaving behind a red mark. "I didn't get it all right, did I?"

Caleb's sorry expression answered for him. Sighing, Kenna dropped back on the sofa and used her arm to shield her eyes.