When We Collide [ON HOLD]

2.2

Tazanna

I tried not to limp towards the field. I crossed the deserted road.

Please be alive, I thought. Please, please, please.

I walked to the edge of the field, where the crops started, growing taller towards the middle of the field — which were now burning. The fire was still going. I wondered why the fire engines weren't here yet. I'd assumed that Tristan or Xael would have called the police — well, not Xael. He didn't give two shits about what happened to me.

I turned and walked back to them, Tristan still on the ground. They were talking in low undertones, which abruptly stopped as I reached them. Any other time, I would have wanted to know what they were saying, but now I just wanted to get away from this nightmare.

"Do any of you have working phones?" I asked tiredly. I avoided Xael's eyes, even though I had seen them look slightly vulnerable for a moment when I was shouting at him, but I was sure he hated me even more than before now. Well, the feeling was mutual.

"My phone's dead," Tristan said with sympathy in his eyes that were so like mine. I reluctantly looked at Xael, who was observing me with magnitude — surprisingly devoid of hostility.

"I left my phone at the Ma — uh — home," he said hastily. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously but didn't question further.

"Well, I have to call my parents to pick me up," I said with certainty. "They'll pick me up and we'll stay at a hotel for a while until we find a new house."

"Tazanna..." Tristan began.

"Don't," I interrupted, hysterics creeping into my voice and making it jump. "Just — don't say it. I can't — I can't think about that happening okay? It — it can't —"

"Okay. Let's go call your parents."

I started, looking up from Tristan, into Xael's surprisingly soft eyes. He was playing along — to help me.

I was gaping too long. Suddenly, I realised and was about to speak, when the loud, crackling sound of the flames just — vanished. The fiery glow disappeared and we were left standing in shadow. I whipped around. The massive fire had — gone. Vanished into thin air.

"What just happened?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

"I don't know," Tristan whispered back — but his voice hid something. He knew something. I spun to look at him, his face illuminated slightly by a streetlight, and demanded, "Tristan, what are you not telling me?"

Silence. "Tristan!" I protested fearfully.

Xael interrupted. "That fire — no normal fire would just — stop like that."

The wheels turned in my brain, forming a clear answer, but it triggered a whole lot more fear in me.

"W—What do you mean?" I stammered, knowing what he would say.

"It was Angelfire. Angels use it to destroy anything they want. The fire starts when an angel rubs their hands together and blows into them, producing a celestial spark of some kind. They drop it near the object they want to destroy, and once it's destroyed ... the fire vanishes, living destruction in its wake."

I swallowed. "Angels did this?" I whispered. Was this some kind of revenge for Azroy and Ryseld?

"... Yes," Tristan said. Without a doubt.

I turned, leaving my high heels on the ground, and ran towards my house.

***