The Flames that Engulfed Us

Chapter 35: C.C.'s Common Sense

"Glowstick get out of the cell."

That was common sense that I hadn't thought of. The canteen was still holding the door open, and I pulled the door open, freezing as the Roman's fingers grabbed my shoulder. His hand was strong, stronger than it had been, as strong as me. I put my hand up, trying to lift his fingers gently off, but they dug into me, like a cat. I hoped it wouldn't give me an infection like a cat's claws, but it probably wouldn't. He wasn't cutting into me.

My shoulder, however, still hurt as he pulled me away from the door. I thudded against the far wall, and as I looked up at him, I realized his presence blocked me and Lincoln from each other. C.C. got to the cell, and he cautiously opened it.

"Paul, my man. You look different. This lighting is flattering for you. I wonder if it'd be much better out here. You can let Glowstick and the Soul go, and we'll go get you more wine. The good stuff. How's that sound?"

"No. I god. Need Sorceress give me more when go out."

"So, she's a Sorceress now. Not a god. Noted."

"Gods brave. Sorceress coward."

I caught a gleam in Lincoln's eye. How I prayed he would keep his perfect mouth shut. How I prayed, and how he said it anyway.

"Sky's the bravest person I know. Cowards are people who'll come in at night and be big, bad, and tough until they get their way, and then they'll use their way to destroy everyone."

"Sky?" The gold being—I don't think he really was Paul anymore—repeated quizzically.

"Paul," C.C. explained as though to a child, "The girl's name is Skylar. Sky is an abbreviation of her name."

My attention was on C.C., watching him suspiciously. "How do you know my name? No one ever told you that."

"I got a file about the two of you before we were scheduled to torture the Soul. Happy?"

I had trusted him too easily. I turned my eyes back to the used-to-be-Paul. He was staring at me, and he started to move towards me but turned as C.C. strolled easily into the cell.

"We really need to talk. You're drunk. In more ways than one it seems, and I'll just walk you down to your room and no one needs to get hurt. Paul, I'm not going to let you hurt these two right now."

Right now. That made me feel great about later. But it didn't matter what C.C. was going to allow to happen or not because the Roman put his arm out, and if I'd thought he'd seen Star Wars, I would have accused him of copying, and his arm glowed, and next thing I knew I couldn't breathe.

I guess it was different from Star Wars in the sense that metallic gold wrapped around my neck and my feet stayed on the ground. I opened my mouth, trying to breathe the air that surrounded me. Both Lincoln and C.C. tried to rush forward and help me, but the Roman put his arms out, and both stopped as though they'd hit a brick wall.

"Thank you," The figure sneered at me, and I wasn't sure if my vision was going black or he was. I mean, my vision was going black, but as it dimmed, he started to look vaguely tarnished. I knew in another second, I would pass out, but the pressure stopped, and I crumpled to the floor. Lincoln rushed forwards and clutched me to his chest rocking back and forth.

He glared up at the Roman, but to hurt him, he'd have had to let go of me, and he wasn't going to let go of me. I wrapped my arms around his and buckled in for what happened next. C.C. moved towards the Roman, but I saw it in his eyes he wasn't there to hurt. He was there to protect, not just me, but everyone. Ultimately, that was why he would lose.

He never really made an effort. I mean, he put effort into trying to make an effort, but he was flat on his back in a moment, and the Roman glowed as he walked over and put his boot on C.C.'s chest. Lincoln tried to take the chance to stand and slip out the door, but before he even moved that far, unwanted attention was on him. He eased himself and me back down, hugging me as though I was the thing the whole world depended on.

The Roman was looking tarnished and dull. None of the men, not even the Roman himself seemed to notice, but as I looked, every time he used my power, it was as though some of the gold had been scratched and eroded away. The power draining must have been something he felt, but he didn't acknowledge it.

I looked up at him, and his golden eyes met mine. I let myself glow, gentle like a faraway star, but still glowing. I was taunting him, and anger flared in his features. He abandoned C.C. who jumped to his feet, but the Roman was focused only on me. I looked at my nails, seeming to be bored. Lincoln was holding me so tightly, I didn't think I'd be able to breathe. But I was.

The Roman moved towards me, and he let his hand glow extremely bright, but that was good. I needed him to use all of it. I could feel warmth lacing through my essence, and I could feel myself getting stronger. I could feel the warmth, the power building up inside me, almost threatening to overwhelm me. I let myself keep the glow, just soft.

The Roman made C.C. and Lincoln squint and then close their eyes altogether. His glow didn't hurt me. It wasn't ideal, but it didn't sting my eyes or make them water like I would've thought. He moved towards me and stretched out his arm again, but I put a shield around Lincoln and I. I felt the power hit it, and then they merged and dispersed. I needed him to use energy.

I kept going, and the Roman started to regain his normal color. C.C. knocked him to the ground eventually, and there was a weak fight on the ground. C.C. had Paul's behind him and they both panted, but other that, all was still.

Lincoln sniffed my hair mildly, seeming just unwilling as the rest of us to say anything.

"Glowstick, make sure the Soul gets a good sleep."

Then, they were gone. The door shut, nothing propping it open. Lincoln would need sleep. But I was getting a better grasp of whatever the glowing was.

"Sky," he started to murmur, but I shushed him.

"Get some sleep. We'll still be here in the morning."

"I don't think..."

"Get some sleep," I whispered again, running my hand against his cheek, and as it glowed, he looked at me sleepily.

"Maybe I will."

And then he fell asleep, sitting there. I pulled myself out of his arms, laying him down so his head was in my lap, and I spent to rest of the night running my fingers through his hair.

"Lincoln," I told his sleeping body, "I love you."