The Call for Finis: Pride

Chapter 1: Our Bond

Fire danced and swayed, a dot of light in an otherwise endless canvas of black. The flames were the only thing keeping the darkness and nightmares at bay. The light flickered and waved unsteadily as the void crept ever closer. The gloom loomed inward as if it were sentient, compelled by a gluttonous need to snuff out the resting world. A chill glided across the plains and attacked the little light.

Salvia's breath hitched in her throat.

On any other night, she could at least find comfort in the moon's luminous glow and the stars which peppered the sky, but nature seemed determined to mirror the turmoil raging inside her chest. A dense cloud cover had arrived with the setting sun and choked out all celestial light. Her little fire was her one lifeline.

Her hands went scrambling through dirt and grass, searching for the stick she laid close in case the flames needed sparking back to life. The fire was dwindling, and as it receded the nightmares grew bold and approached. Frantic screams echoed all around. Embers floated wistfully through the blood-tinged air. Blood pooled on the ground. Death was everywhere. Fires engulfed everything. Homes. Boats. The pier. Nothing was safe.

Salvia released a trembling breath. Her brown eyes stung. Her breathing grew ragged and heart raced. Flames engulfed her vision, and then suddenly, there was her fiance, Lorenzo Aguado, running toward her. Just as he reached her, a spear erupted from his chest and slammed into her with a wet crunch.

Breathe. A deep, cacophonous, and reverberating voice entered her mind, causing a shiver to run between her shoulder blades. Salvia, you have to breathe.

Salvia hadn't even realized she had stopped. Struggling through the fear, she pleaded with her body to respond. Slowly, she sucked in a breath and exhaled. Again and again. She felt a little better knowing she wasn't alone. The memory of the fall of her village, Marineros, was still fresh in her mind. It had barely been a week since that terrible night.

Salvia VerdaderaFe, the girl who survived.

Her first major tragedy happened when she had just entered womanhood. A terrible plague ravaged her village and took her parents. Many others died as well, but the village pulled through. Years later, the second major tragedy of her life happened. Raiders fell upon her town, pillaging, murdering, and burning everything in sight. The young woman was the only survivor.

The smell of iron and burning flesh lingered in her nostrils. Salvia could even still feel the warmth of Lorenzo's blood on her copper skin. Bile rose up her throat, and a queasy ache formed in the pit of her stomach.

Slide your hand to the right. It isn't far. The voice in her head told her. She followed without question.

Dirt rolled loosely under her palm as the bladed grass brushed her skin. The sensation would have tickled if panic wasn't spiraling in her heart. Something hard slid against her little finger, and a spark of hope blossomed to life. She wrapped her hand around the small, round, wooden object. It was her makeshift poker, and just beside it she found the bundle of sticks she had collected before daylight had vanished. She grabbed a few handfuls of twigs and dry brush, then tossed it all into the fading orange glow of the pit.

Sparks flew erratically as the flames spread across the newly added debris. Salvia poked at the branches to strengthen and spread the weak flames. As the warmth grew with renewed vigor, the kiss of the flames sent a prickle across her skin. She released a sigh of relief. Sitting back on her folded legs, her body straightened and her hands fell limp at her sides. Her terrible memories were finally falling silent again, returning to the recesses of her mind. The crackling of the flames quieted. Both warmth and cold evaded her senses. All sensation faded. She felt nothing; not the aching of loss, not the strain of travel on her muscles, not the dryness choking her throat, not even the scent of pine and cedar from the sparse surrounding trees.