By Aline-Mwezi
Niyonsenga
It surrounded us. A ring untouched in a cyclone inferno, we
stood immobile, unable to take our eyes off the hellish blaze. Could it be that
we would escape death or would our island haven tighten around us until we too
were finally consumed?
As if answering my question,
the ring twisted in on itself so that Ambrine and I hugged each other, neither
of us squealing, simply waiting.
“Nardone,” my sister whispered.
“Do not show them weakness. Do not show them you are weak.”
“We will prove to them we are
Gifted. A Minor is nothing.” I repeated along with her.
Of course, it was this vow that
kept my lips firmly closed over those cowardly grasshoppers bouncing up and
down my chest. As the whirling walls closed ever closer, my hand squeezed
Ambrine’s hand and hers mine. Never minding the sweat drenching my body, the
dry rasp of my throat, I continued the chant until it amassed a faint glow
around our hands. Still this did nothing to stop my brain from losing the
oxygen necessary to focus and my tongue began to twist on itself. My sister
responded by squeezing my hand harder until both locked fists became halves of
one and I made the effort to match her voice again, slowly this time, but
steadily.
Never in my eleven years of
life did I consider it would all come to an end like this but if it must, as my
Gran always said, better be proud than kneeling pitiably. I’ve done my part in
this world, time for my energy to be used by the next person.
No, we would not yield to a
cowardly death, not at the hands of Fortune Raiders.
Clarity brought a brief waft of
cool air in my head as I realized for what purpose I had been brought up like I
was. It was to face these vessels of hate with a martyr’s resolve. It was to
stand unyielding as they snickered while tightening the field of fire around
us.
“But I don’t want to.”
Suddenly, my sister’s grip
loosened as she slowly crumbled to the floor. Desperately I tightened my hold
on her palm but she had always been the stronger one and my little flow of
magic could do nothing to aid her in standing up again. So I kneeled with her.
As loud as I could muster, in a sandpaper dryness that scrapped along with my
tongue on my chapped lips, I recited our chant, “Do not show them weakness. Do
not show them you are weak. We will prove to them we are Gifted. A Minor is
nothing.”
“We’re dying, Nardone,” Ambrine
whispered. “And for what?”
Finally, I revealed the last
line of the chant. My heart rising to my throat, as my eyes squeezed out steam,
I nearly mouthed the words, the walls close enough that the pain scorched
through my sodden clothes.
“To engrave a tetra star on
this earth as a mark of our undying strength through sacrifice-”
I coughed, a bout that wouldn’t
end. There wasn’t any saliva left.
“And…” I tried in between
coughs, “for that…”
A wave rose to my sister’s
throat. Her hand in mine suddenly shook, building with the pressure. The
grasshoppers nearly escaped my mouth.
“I would gladly die,” she
sobbed.
Relieved, I let go of her hand,
ready to let the flames envelop me at last. A cry echoed from far away but I
was ready to go. There was nothing more I could do for my sister.
As I closed my eyes, I imagined
a boy stepping through the walls of the infernal prison, bearing the crystal
eyes and silvery hair of a Cursed born. The last thing I heard before darkness
claimed me were his words.
“Neither of you will die, you
hear?"
I
smiled and let go completely.
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