The golden rings around Tolsti’s eyes almost cause me to miss her words. My mounting exhaustion and low tolerance for all things magical only make it harder to pay attention. And while not super flashy, her glowing eyes have to be magic, right? Glowing eyes that are looking my way… Wait, what was she saying? Something about going to sleep? Or is that just wishful thinking?

“Okay. Gotcha.” I try to keep it non committal while also not staring too deeply into her eyes. If I’m not being too dense about the whole situation, she not only saved my life, but is offering to mentor me, offer my guidance, generally teach me how to survive. The last thing I want is to leer at her and come off as creepy. I’m still pretty much incapacitated at the moment and at her mercy. “I’ll – uh – go to sleep then… Sweet dreams?”

A twitch of her eyebrows sends me reeling. Jesus Christ. I can’t believe I just wished her sweet dreams. If I can already feel the heat radiating off my face, I can only imagine how red it is. Might as well just get it over with and accidentally call her Mom while I’m at it. Baptize myself in sheer embarrassment and play it off as a character quirk.

Seemingly amused by my internal flailing, Tolsti lets loose a short laugh that feels distinctly more at me than with me. “Sweet? Maybe. Though I very much doubt it.” Lowering herself to the ground, she gives me a shooing motion with her hand. “Lay down and close your eyes.” My brief hesitation sparks a glint of annoyance in her eyes. An indication that she expects to be listened to. Or maybe irratation at what she takes is a lack of trust.

With a single finger she pushes me down to the ground, while her other hand flicks to the side. The curt motion is followed by my own hand moving to the right, as if there were strings linking the two. A brief moment passes before I realize it’s the dagger in my hand that moved, not my hand itself. Which, to be honest, only raises more questions. Namely, why? Showing off? A power move? Sensing my confusion, Tolsti looks over at my hand and responds. “So you don’t stab yourself. You don’t know how to properly hold your blade.” A statement, not a question. “But that’s for another time. Come now, you’re in no immediate danger of dying, but your tussle with those Ash Gila was a close–”

Without thinking I interrupt her. “Wait. Please. I – those ash, what? I don’t…” My brain feels like scrambled eggs. Some of it is pure exhaustion. Maybe a lot of it. A sickening feeling clamps around my head and sends it spinning. A stomach churning nausea that rears its head at the hint of a memory. I can’t say for certain that I know what she means, and yet it’s obvious from context. Those things. Those monsters. Ash Gila. They have a name now. And that somehow makes them so much more real. Makes the memory, my experience, so much more real. But it’s not something I want to think about nor remember. I can still see those twin embers burning whenever I close my eyes. That sliver of a second I had when my mind finally realized I was about to die. And the overwhelming dread that followed…

Okay, Henry. Breathe. Get it together. You’re not dead. Nothing else matters. At least not right now. It’s like Tolsti said, that was the hard part. You almost died. But you didn’t. You're fine. You’re. Fine. Breathe dammit. In and out.

I take in, and let out, a shuddering breath. And another. And another. I breathe through the sour saliva churning in my mouth and the noxious feeling in my gut. For a second I think I’ve gotten a handle on myself, but it’s as if I’ve stepped on the gas peddle and can’t get it off. My breathing goes from barely in control to wild and erratic. Shallower and shallower. Faster and faster. My mind goes blank as I somehow can’t seem to take in any air.

I look up at a concerned face, although it’s difficult to focus. My eyes keep sliding off to the forest. “I… I… ”

Two gentle hands take hold of my face and my vision is filled by golden brown eyes. “It’s okay. Listen to me. No, look at – good. Just look at me and listen. That’s all. Good.” Her golden ringed eyes burn brighter and a sad smile frames her next words. “It’s more than your body that needs to recover. You’ve seen things, experienced things, that can’t be brushed off. In many ways, you’ve been broken. But in this, you are not alone. So rest. You will come out stronger for the struggle. For that is when you will begin to heal. Rest and dream little one. Who knows what you’ll find.”

* * *

Air.

Air shouldn’t hurt. It’s important. Crucial to life itself. And yet it does. From all sides, inside and out, it hurts. Slowly at first. An irritation. Annoying. But it doesn’t stop. It hasn’t. And I know it won’t. It just continues on. Building up. Heavier and heaver as I only get weaker.

Sweat rolls off my body in a futile attempt to cool itself down, only to be stripped off by the invasive heat. Leaving my skin so dry it itches with a furious need. The skin on my hands have began to crack in places, sending stabs of agony every time they move.

At first I ran. Away from the towering pillars of flame. Around the smoldering piles of embers and ash. But if there is an end, I haven’t found it.

Left. Right. Forward and back. There is no escape. No respite from the danger that surrounds me.

The best I can do is find the path of least resistance. Thread my way through the hellfire and misery as I try to break free.

A thick flaming limb falls from up above and bars my path. It sends a wave of heat and grasping fingers of fire in my direction. I’m able skid to a stop in time. Barely. So I change direction and continue on. Wide eyed from the close call.

A dull roaring surrounds me. A reminder of the power at play. Interspersed by the crackles and pops of the flame as it gorges itself on the dying forest.

I throw myself to the ground at the sound of a nearby explosion. I can hear shards of wood and molten sap land around me as I cover my head and curl into as small a target as I can.

Pain itself erupts onto my neck and I roll around as base instinct takes over. Hoping with an animal hope to throw off the pain. Agonizing minutes pass before I have the courage to check the source. Clumsy and tired fingers find nothing good. The engulfing heat only egging on the burn to higher levels.

I want nothing more than to sink into the ground. And I try. Digging into the warm dirt and scolding ash that blankets the forest floor. A desperate attempt to burrow myself away from the heat and flame.

As if responding in turn, the flame around me spreads with sadistic vigor. Any and all untouched trees going up into flame as if they were only waiting for me to stop running. From limb to limb, trunk to trunk, the dancing lights move around me. Painting my death in ever plainer terms.

Why?

It’s all I can think as the tips of my hair begins to smolder and my lungs fail to draw in the burnt and dead air. The gentlest movement of clothes against skin sends me whimpering in agony, yet the question remains.

Why does it hurt?

Because of the fire and flame. Obvious. Stupid. I know why. Yet the answer is useless. Off in some way that leaves me grinding my teeth in frustration. Tears fall only to sizzle away. The very air roasting my lungs with every shallow breath.

Even those tenuous questions begin to fade as the heat, pain and lack of oxygen strip me down to a brittle core. Why’s and how’s lose urgency as my body slowly ticks down to a stop.

The flaming branches above me illuminate the sky in a sickening facsimile of day, only ruined by the thick streams of black smoke pouring off. As they greedily consume the trees around me, the light becomes too hard on my dry and battered eyes.

Eyes closed and effort spent, I hear one final thunderous explosion that rocks the world before I let go and drift away.