CEL

After the lunch break, Cel has an ethics class she’s not terribly looking forward to. It’s one of the classes that students from various years may attend if they need the credit. Cel takes one step into the classroom and freezes in place.

Mid-center in the front row of desks is Lache Vonadieu, sitting primly with her hair pulled tightly into an elaborate rose bun, her hands gathered on the desktop and her posture perfect. The slightly older girl whips her head towards the doorway without prompting and narrows her eyes at Cel as if she somehow knew she’d be standing there.

Cel is startled enough to gape for a few moments before she locks her mouth closed and levels Lache with a furious glare.

“Oh Styx,” Nora grumbles, pushing Cel further into the room and shooting Lache a pleading look. “No trouble, girls.”

“Don’t worry,” Lache says coldly as Cel passes by her to get to an empty seat, “I’m not allowed to talk to you. I don’t have time to waste, anyway. I’m number one in my year for academics.”

To keep herself from snarling a retort, Cel bites the inside of her cheek so hard she draws blood. She drops heavily into her seat two rows over from Lache and refuses to so much as glance her way.

Rather than stand at the back of the room, Nora finds an empty desk in the row between them and settles in. This time, the instructor doesn’t make her move. Cel is grateful for the barrier. Without Nora sitting between them, she might throw caution to the wind and set Lache ablaze right there in the classroom.

They’ve seen each other only once per month since their first meeting-slash-fight, but every encounter since has only left Cel hating Lache more.

Lache gets to attend Nightburner meetings, but Cel isn’t allowed to do so until she finishes her first year of schooling. Lache, of course, is a year her senior, so this is technically fair, but Cel hates her anyway. Daddy won’t even tell her much about the meetings, only that they’ve gone well or that they’ve irritated him.

“Fukashi is right about some things, Little General,” is his go-to response. “You are still too young for high crime.”

My existence is high crime, she thinks, drumming her fingers against her desk. And Lache is only a year older than me!

Nora is allowed to go to the meetings if she wants to, but she doesn’t like them. She attended one at Cel’s insistence, came back proclaiming it was stressful and boring. She wouldn’t say more than that because she claimed she could barely even remember what they had talked about.

Cel is used to seeing the faces of Daddy’s associates come and go from their basement. They often cast her knowing looks as she stares at them from her favorite armchair in the foyer. Any other time, ShiShi uses it as a training room for Nora, but once a month, it belongs to the Nightburners, and they know what she is, just like they know what Daddy is.

He says that’s why they follow him. With his capabilities, both strategic and coric, he can get them the things they want--more power. And in return, his own power grows.

Speaking of the syndicate, it even has a hierarchy now. Daddy is their general, the faction leaders are brigadiers (brigs for short), and the remaining members are simply called burners. Cel herself has been acknowledged as Daddy’s heir, and ShiShi’s reputation as Shadowshy has earned him a great deal of respect among the brigs. They fear him nearly as much as they fear Daddy.

Speaking of Daddy, he frequently stays out late handling what he calls “Burner business”. The Nightburners are quickly making a name for themselves in Malais. It wasn’t long ago that several warehouses burned down containing a great deal of expensive military equipment. Midday, the buildings went up in black flames, and since then, people have spoken of a firecore in Malais, one they call General Blackfire, whose corical fire burns black as night yet hotter than the summer sun.

The corpse of a wealthy commander--a man whose mission it was to hunt down General Blackfire and execute him--was also recently found dead in his home, burned alive from the inside out, his veins protruding black from his skin. After this event, word of a powerful firecore in Malais’ underbelly tore through the city. General Blackfire has become a household name. It is as feared as Daddy’s “Golden General” title is respected. That is to say, neither is mentioned without an underlying tremor of distaste.

As her instructor drones on about ethics, Cel picks at her fingernails and watches Lache out of the corner of one eye. Lache pays strict attention to the instructor, no matter how dryly the fool speaks, and on the rare occasion when this instructor turns toward the class, she offers a fake smile and always raises her hand to answer any question that is asked.

When class is over, Lache idles up to a chatty group of students and integrates herself into their group with a snarky comment and a smile. Nora bumps up against Cel’s arm as she watches Lache socialize like she was born specifically for that purpose.

“You could go talk to them,” Nora gently suggests. “I was talking to a girl in the back earlier. They’re not all bad.”

Cel digs her hand into Nora’s arm, scowling. “Lache’s friends aren’t my friends,” she says with finality. Besides, the idea of walking into the middle of that crowd makes her insides twist unpleasantly. What could she even say?

Hi, I’m Cel! I read a lot more than everyone here, and I set fires in my free time. It’s actually pretty hard not to set fires. Also, if you make me mad, I’ll tell you to walk into a tree, and you’ll do it. You won’t even know it was me.

She shakes off the stupidity of that fantasy, tugging Nora toward the door. “Who’d you talk to?” she asks.

Nora flushes. “Well, there’s this girl named Sylvie…”