The Seasonal Debt

The air in the ballroom did not just turn warm. It shattered. I stepped away from the stone railing and thrust my arms out toward the center of the marble floor. I did not reach for the soft glow of a hearth or the gentle flicker of a candle. I reached for the scorching white heat of a summer noon in the desert. I let the golden filaments of my dress drink from my veins until they hummed with a blinding intensity.

"Back!" I shouted.

My voice was not my own. It carried the crackle of a brushfire.

The rebels in the grey cloaks froze. They had been swinging their iron rods at the cowering aristocrats but now they turned their focus to me. They squinted against the light that was pouring from my skin. To a vampire who had lived in a century of twilight I must have looked like a falling star. The smell of ozone and singed velvet filled the room.

"She is the fuel!" One of the rebels yelled.

He raised his jagged rod and charged toward the balcony. He was fast but I was faster.

I snapped my wrists forward. A wave of pure thermal energy rolled off my palms. It was not a flame that consumed but a force that repelled. The rebel was caught in the chest by the invisible wall of heat. He was lifted off his feet and thrown backward into a banquet table. The silver platters clattered to the floor and the fine wine boiled instantly in the glass decanters.

Silas did not stay behind me. He moved like a blur of shadow through the light I was creating. He used the distraction I provided to close the distance between himself and the remaining attackers. His silver blade caught the radiance of my aura as he swung. He did not kill them with fire. He killed them with the cold precision of a surgeon. He moved with a silent lethality that made my heart stutter in my chest.

"Close the line!" Silas commanded.

The palace guards found their courage. they surged forward with their own weapons drawn. The sound of clashing steel and snarling voices drowned out the last notes of the orchestra.

I felt the drain almost immediately. My vision blurred at the edges. My core was a furnace that was running out of wood. I could feel the golden threads of my gown pulling more than just magic from me. They were pulling my very vitality. I slumped against the marble pillar of the balcony and struggled to keep my hands raised.

"Do not stop Elara." Silas hissed.

He was suddenly at my side again. He was splattered with dark blood that looked like ink against his white shirt. He did not look tired. He looked invigorated. He grabbed my shoulder and his touch was a shock of ice that briefly cleared the fog in my brain.

"I am... empty." I gasped.

I tried to push more heat into the room but my hands only flickered. The brilliant white light faded back into a dull amber.

"You have plenty left." Silas said.

He leaned in close. His silver eyes were narrowed.

"You are just afraid to burn." Silas added.

He reached down and grabbed my hand. He forced my palm flat against his chest. I could feel the hard muscle of his heart through the silk of his shirt. It was not beating. It was a cold still weight.

"Take the cold Elara." Silas whispered. "Feed off the vacuum. Let the void drive the fire."

It was a repulsive suggestion. To a Fae the idea of drawing energy from the dead was a sin. But as I saw another rebel raise a heavy iron bar over a fallen guard I realized I did not have the luxury of purity. I closed my eyes and reached out with my spirit. I did not push my heat into Silas. I reached for the bottomless cold inside him.

The sensation was like falling into a frozen lake. It was a sharp agonizing bite that traveled up my arm and into my chest. But instead of extinguishing my spark the cold acted like a bellows. It forced my internal fire to roar in protest. My body reacted to the invasion of his stillness by exploding with movement.

A pillar of golden flame erupted from my body and hit the ceiling. The black glass overhead cracked with a sound like a gunshot. The rebels shrieked as the sheer intensity of the light blinded them. They dropped their weapons and covered their eyes. They scrambled for the doors and tripped over each other in their haste to escape the sun that had suddenly appeared in their dark world.

I let go of Silas and fell to my knees. The light vanished. The ballroom was plunged back into a smoky dim violet. The only sound was the heavy breathing of the guards and the soft sobbing of a countess in the corner.

Silas stood over me. He adjusted his sleeves as if he had not just used my soul as a whetstone for a blade. He looked down at me with a terrifying kind of hunger. It was not the hunger for blood. It was the hunger of a man who had finally found something he could not break.

"The gala is over." Silas announced.

His voice carried to every corner of the room.

"Clear the halls." Silas ordered. "Seal the lower gates. I want a full report on how the rebels breached the Spire by dawn."

The guards moved to obey. The aristocrats hurried away and cast fearful glances at me as they left. I stayed on the floor. I felt like a pile of ash. My hands were shaking so hard I had to hide them in the folds of my skirt.

Silas knelt down beside me. He reached out and tucked a stray lock of copper hair behind my ear. His fingers were still cold but they felt different now. They felt like a promise of rest.

"You did well Elara." Silas said.

His voice was surprisingly soft.

"You showed them that the Sun is not a myth." Silas continued. "You showed them that I have the power to burn them all if they cross me again."

"I did not do it for you." I whispered.

I looked at him through my lashes.

"I did it because they were going to kill those people." I said.

"The reason does not matter to history." Silas replied.

He stood up and scooped me into his arms before I could protest. He carried me out of the ballroom and toward the stairs. I was too tired to fight him. I leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes. He felt like a statue carved from moonlight.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked.

"To your rooms." Silas said.

He walked with a steady even pace.

"You need to recover." Silas added. "The Forge will be twice as hungry tomorrow after the energy you spent tonight."

"You are a monster Silas." I murmured.

I was drifting on the edge of sleep.

"You use me until I am nothing." I said.

Silas stopped at the top of the stairs. He looked down at me and for a moment the mask of the King slipped. I saw a flicker of something raw and ancient in his silver eyes. It looked like loneliness. It looked like a man who was standing at the edge of a cliff and wondering if he should jump.

"I use what I must to keep this world spinning Elara." Silas whispered.

He resumed his walk toward my door.

"But do not think for a moment that I do not know the value of what I am holding." Silas said.

He reached my room and kicked the door open. He set me down on the bed with a surprising amount of gentleness. He did not call for Mina. He walked to the fireplace and looked at the cold stones.

"Light it." Silas commanded.

"I can't." I said.

I lay back on the pillows and stared at the ceiling.

"I am empty Silas. I told you." I reminded him.

Silas walked back to the bed. He sat on the edge and looked at me. He reached out and traced the line of my jaw with his thumb. The coldness was almost comforting now. It was a grounded contrast to the fever in my blood.

"Then I will provide the spark." Silas said.

He leaned down and pressed his forehead against mine. I felt the connection again. I felt the vacuum of his soul pulling at my core. But this time he was not pushing me to burn. He was letting me lean into his stillness. He was letting me find a center in the dark.

I felt a tiny flicker of warmth return to my chest. It was not enough to light a forge or a ballroom. It was just enough to keep me alive.

"Sleep Little Sun." Silas whispered.

His breath was cold against my lips.

"Tomorrow the world will still be dark." Silas said. "But you will be here to fight it."

He stood up and walked to the door. He did not look back. I heard the lock click and the sound of his footsteps fading away.

I lay in the dark and touched my lips where his breath had been. I hated him. I hated everything he stood for. But as I felt the small glow of life returning to my heart I realized something terrifying.

I was no longer just a debt. I was becoming a part of the Spire. And Silas was becoming the only thing that could keep my fire from consuming me entirely.