Chapters:

Chapter 1

Where is the sky in these flames?

The choking mazarine darkness enshrouds my every pore as I struggle to regain my balance. The edges of my vision prick with vermilion heat while hoary ice shrieks by in piercing shards, my body a jumble of chains heated till each link glows in the roiling darkness. The stars at night are magnificent to no one now, if this endless fire has not entangled and smashed them into dust already. Poison strokes the insides of my eyes until it turns the sweat pouring down my face into a gorge of tears. Suddenly, a cold point strikes me in the back, shocking in this scorching hell. A shudder runs through me as I cough, but if blood or more flames spill from my mouth, I cannot say.

A wispy clump of hair stuck to Mera’s face, tracing the spidery sleep wrinkle that ran like a dusky river across her cheek. Misty white light flitted through the dim room like a breeze and puddled unceremoniously on the floor like wasted milk. The inevitable crackle of the pallet penetrated the air as I sat up. I folded half of the blanket over my sister’s body and immediately stood, stretching. I donned a thick black jacket before the cold could seep anywhere it had no business in, then silently made my way to the kitchen.

A flat, fat pot sat stoically on the kitchen table. I closed it instantly after whiffing the sour milk inside -- another one of my sister’s projects. I went to the cabinet that hung precariously on the wall and drew out a larger pot, covered with a strip from one of Da’s frayed grey shirts. This one had once been pale pink. As I closed the cabinet, a long, jagged split down the door sagged wide with a quiet crack. I made a note to tie the board back up today, immediately before remembering why I couldn’t.

A chill swept through the house, sending the fireplace into a sizzling protest while the flames bent low. Mera woke with a gasp, then bundled herself up in the threadbare blanket. Her voice came muffled. “Umgf. Did the fire go out?”

I reached for a covered board sitting on the table and started to slice the bread that Ma had set out for breakfast. “Probably, but it’s past dawn and there’s bread and cheese.”

A whoomp came from the fireplace, sending a tendril of heat snaking around the tiny kitchen. Ma walked in, tying back her hair with one hand and closing her jacket with the other. A few cinnabar strands framed her wiry face. Deep lines caressed her eyes and above her chin as she popped a square of cheese into her mouth. I grabbed a toasting stick from the corner of the room.

Ma took the knife from me and quickly sliced the remainder of the bread for us with the efficient hands of a sorter. “Quickly now. Both of you…” she wiped off the knife and hung it on the rack -- “have work today.” Her firm arms pulled me into a quick hug. “Happy birthday, darling.”

“Thanks, Ma. You reminded me -- we need to tie the cabinet door before it falls to pieces.” I followed her glance at the pitiful door. She nodded swiftly and waved me off to the fire. I joined Mera, whose cheese was already spreading around the dusty black point spearing her toast.

The fire snapped with satisfaction as it tasted the bread’s dark flesh. I moved the stick up a little and ignored the urge pulling at my gut. This is taking so long, my common sense insisted. Annoyingly, it had the voice of my teacher. If you just pulled a tiny amount of heat from the air and added it to the fire, you’d have your breakfast so much sooner.

My right hand shook, quickly blackening the underside of the toast. The cheese bubbled eagerly. Mera was already pulling on work clothes and didn’t notice the spasms, thank goodness. I switched hands. I am not going to risk my life trying to summon a fire hours before it becomes legal for me to do it, I reminded my common sense. And when was the time that I could actually call enough heat to do anything but embarrass myself? Also, you’re burning my breakfast. I breathed cool air onto the bread before devouring it, wincing at the blackened bits’ ashen taste.

Mera tossed me the ancient bone comb from where she hopped about, pulling on layer upon layer of clothing. I fiddled with the grey cracks running through the comb’s yellowing handle as it scraped over my scalp, figuring again that it was probably for the best that this item wasn’t made of wood. It was a rule that budding cinderworkers could not come into contact with a wooden item provided by the government, like this comb. Did they think we would try to make our possessions explode in some mad fit of rebellion? They were the ones who could afford to destroy their own belongings. Still, the object felt brittle in my hand from years of abuse, and I imagined that if it were wood, it would probably already be in slivers. Without an ounce of guilt, I threw it onto the pallet and changed my warm, padded nightclothes for an insulated shirt and two pairs of long pants. Everything was still cold from the nighttime chill. I tugged on a scarf as well, a hand-woven gift from my best friend, Asa.

I sat on the pallet and watched Mera and Ma dress for work at the Loudhouse. Mera often seemed like the younger sister by three minutes, but this was not one of those times. She was a mirror to Ma’s eburnean skin, thin frame, and jaw-length auburn locks, while I had lighter hair and much darker skin, both gifts from my da. Every day for four years since the explosion, I regularly caught Ma gazing at me, and I knew who she saw. It was painful, but worth bearing at the price of watching her sink into another depression.

She came up to me now and smoothed back my hair, kissing me firmly on the top of my head. “Good luck, darling.”

“Thanks.” I gave her a small smile to mask the quiet twisting in my gut. She ran her hand over my hair again and made her way to the door. Mera fumbled around in the kitchen cabinet before racing to me and depositing a tiny object wrapped in cloth into my hand. “Specially made birthday gift, and don’t give me anything in return like you always do,” she ordered, flinging her arms around my neck. Despite her attempts to take the advice of my teacher seriously, her curiosity got the best of her. She whispered in my ear: “And tell me what happens tonight.”

“Oh, I will,” I promised her. I would not be able to follow orders regarding this matter. She smiled and followed Ma out of the house. I heard the crunch of snow as they set off down the road to their jobs sorting metal. I listened very closely and could just barely make out the screeching and banging emanating from the Loudhouse, where they would arrive in a few minutes.

Inside the piece of cloth was a block of cheese the size of my thumbnail, and after one taste, it became immediately clear why this was so small. The flavor popped and erupted on my tongue. Gathering all of the ingredients had clearly been the work of months. And good hell, it was delicious.

On a normal day, I would be at the local Cinder School, taking a lesson on controlling heat with a middle-aged man from Alderven named Master Zike. We had first met on my fourth birthday, when he had been introduced to me as the man who would teach me how to master my gift. “Gift” had been the exact word they had used. “Curse” was a better word. Especially considering my incapability to make anything of it.

Today was my sixteenth birthday -- the Day. My palms warmed in anticipation for the moment when the hidden judges would decide the path of my career -- where I would go, what I would do with my abilities (and inabilities), who I would work with. Of course life-altering questions would be Alderven’s birthday gift to each one of their prospective cinderworkers. Of course twelve years of training would lead to one day, one decision, one carved-out life. How could they hope to control us by any other way?

You can’t light a candle with your so-called “power.” How can you hope to pass this test?

Even now, when it was most crucial that I stay calm, I couldn’t seem to destroy the numbing, insidious fear that crawled through my veins, trying to poison my nerves.

A small boy in a white attendant’s coat escorted me out of the house, walking behind me as I shuffled outside. An acute suspicion came over me that he was gawking at the simplicity of our rooms, and I found myself outside in the icy wind within two large strides. He swiftly appeared at my elbow and stalked off in the direction of the road.

I followed, watching his meticulously combed black locks as they bristled above the vast white expanse of his clothing. A chill shuddered into my jacket and I pulled it further around myself, wishing for the thick lining of the boy’s coat.

We walked further and further away from the heart of the village until reaching a single abandoned house. The hut was dark underneath blankets of snow, and tiny enough to be a quartering room for petty criminals.

“Wait here,” the boy said quietly, his words turning into dissipating fog in the cold air. He trudged his way through the thick snow and disappeared into the hut. Not two seconds after the door slid closed, a familiar crunch of boots on snow made me spin to face my best friend. The hard breeze slapped my face with defiant retaliation.

“What are you doing here? You have a job. Go back or they’ll whip you!”

Asa shrugged cheekily and threw her arms around me. “They won’t know I’m gone. It is your birthday.” She patted my back. “I just wanted to tell you that the test is easy. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

Despite how dangerous it was for her to have come, I hugged her tightly. “You forget how dangerous I am with the powers of the flame.”

“My ears ache from the sarcasm,” she answered, rolling her eyes. “The test will be over within a moment for you.”

“Because I’ll fail it within a moment. Asa, you know how terrible I am.”

She pulled back and kissed my cheek affectionately. The winter sunlight cast a grey tint over her gloriously dark golden skin and danced through her ropy hair. “You’re not terrible. I’m sure it’ll come to you when you’re inside.” She nodded at my clothing. “I like that scarf.”

I snorted. “I like it too. Now go to work before anyone notices you’ve gone. That attendant boy will be here in a moment. Give me some good luck.”

“You’ll be stunning without any luck from me.” Asa squeezed my shoulder and bounded back onto the road. Within three fleeting seconds, she disappeared.

The test is easy. She’d taken it months ago. The test was probably more difficult than it had been for her. And it didn’t matter either way. I couldn’t summon enough heat to toast a slice of bread. The options for failures were various methods of slavery in the outreaches of the country, working for masters and never using their abilities again, on pain of death. I just wanted a blacksmithing job with Ma and Mera. I’d be perfectly content melting metal for the rest of my life. I had only to survive this maddening test.

The door to the little hut slid open once more and the boy beckoned. My long breath flew away on albicant fog as I trudged into the one-room shack. It was entirely bare of furnishings except for dozens of tiny lanterns hanging on the walls around me.

As soon as I went in, the little boy slipped out and closed the door, sliding a lock into place outside. I was trapped in a tiny room surrounded by orbs of fire.

Grand.

It seemed as if golden light threw itself into the room and tried as hard as it could to compensate for the colorlessness of the walls and ceiling and floor, but could only do so much. This seemed depressingly similar to the world outside. I tried to shake away my fear and focused on the room.

It seemed smaller now that I was inside the house. Perhaps this was a room within another room, where the judges were seated. I waved to any spectators that I couldn’t see, deciding that if I had to fail, I would at least be remembered for my cheekiness. They could whip me for “disrespect”, but only if I were not a girl who could control fire.

Or had tried again and again to do so, anyway.

“Work with what is around you, and the task will make itself clear,” Master Zike had said in our final lesson. I closed my eyes and reached out with my mind for the lanterns, feeling my way past the first glass case, grazing the tendrils of heat that angrily pulsed around their core, tasting the surrounding air that they could never burn, and then my mind emptied --

The pains in my head try to hammer me into a flat corpse. The distress grows stronger as they break open the doors of the mountain cave, The Cave of all our treasures and lives, as we are taken one by one and smashed into submission, as I know some of my kind are thrown straight into oblivion, and I see my own green life in a flash as it is stolen and taken too far away ever to retrieve, and I only can sleep as the weights of a trillion snows crumble me slowly until I am almost merely a statue of dead and grey memories, until one single tendril of fire touches my core, and yet it is not enough to burn it all away and make me whole -- it is not enough --