Page 258 of Awakened

Chewing anxiously at the nail of my thumb, I wait for my friend to say something. She doesn’t. And the longer she stares at me without talking, the more sure I am that I’m going out of my mind.

“It reacts to my emotions,” I reiterate when the silence gets too loud. “Every time. But there was always a fire in the room or near me.”

“Except when you used it to protect your Mate,” she argues.

I groan.

“That was one time. And it was barely anything at all. Honestly, I’m lucky I didn’t accidentally kill Daxen in the process because I had no control over it whatsoever.”

“Why was that time different, Idril?”

“I don’t know!” I shout. “I just saw that Severed coming for Dax, and I remember thinking that there was no way I was going to let him die down there, and I… I….”

I trail off, remembering the fear and the anxiety as I shouted his name. I can remember the feel of my mother’s hand in mine, and the sound of my blood rushing through my ears. I can almost feel the overwhelming anger as I realized he was either ignoring me or couldn’t hear me, but either way, he wasn’t going to see the attack coming in time to protect himself.

Then came my mother’s voice, and the gentle squeeze of her hand, followed by a surge of adrenaline as I decided that if he wasn’t going to protect his back, then I’d do it for him.

“You chose to use it,” Branwen answers gently, and when my startled gaze snaps up to meet hers, it’s so kind and understanding and full of love that it makes me want to weep.

She stands, and with hesitant steps like she’s trying not to spook a scared animal, closes the distance between us.

My heart’s racing, and despite the cold, my palms are starting to sweat. She reaches out, takes my hands in hers, and squeezes them gently. Then, she pulls me close and wraps me in a hug—one I think I’ve needed for years but at some point forgot how to hope for.

“You chose to protect him,” she whispers fiercely. “You made that choice, and that’s why the fire responded. It’s why Daxen wasn’t hurt by it.”

I shiver, but not from the cold. “If I try, and I’m wrong⁠—”

“Then we stay cold and wet.” Branwen pulls back, mouth twisted in a mischievous smile. “Same as we are now. And we figure out something else. But listen to me, Idril. The fear you’re feeling isn’t going to go away. If you don’t face it, then you’re going to stay chained to a life that was never yours to begin with.”

“I don’t want to be a monster,” I admit in a broken whisper.

It’s been days since I actively felt the flame that lives inside of me, but I know it’s still there. I left the interaction with my mother feeling a thousand times more connected to it, and part of me feels like all I have to do is reach out my hand and will what I wish for into existence.

But every time I close my eyes, Daxen’s voice echoes in my mind, reminding me of how little I know about what I can do, who I am, or where I even come from.

If my own Mate is worried…

Branwen catches my chin between her fingers, forcing me to look at her.

“Monsters don’t protect. Monsters take. Monsters hurt. You are not a monster. You’ve never even accidentally done something with this power that could hurt someone you love. That’s not you.”

The tears stinging behind my eyes finally fall, running in warm trails down my face.

“You can spend the rest of your life terrified of what might happen if you try, or you can decide what will happen,” she continues. “This power? This ability? It’s yours, Idril. Not your father’s. Not your Mates’. Not mine. Yours. And the choice of how to use it… That’s yours, too.”

My heart is pounding. I can feel it pumping at my temples, my neck, the center of my chest. Branwen’s words hang heavy, suspended in the air around me.

Choice.

Part of me wants to laugh at the idea.

I didn’t choose to lose my mother or to be imprisoned by my father. I didn’t choose for my Fated Mates to steal me away just to treat me like garbage. I didn’t choose for my father to steal my own blood from my veins.

Every choice I might have had was crushed or ripped away before I could make it.

I’ve lived my life as a ghost in my own skin, forced into a box when I should have been given room to grow. To flourish.

I remember Daxen’s face when he discovered I willed that burst of fire to destroy the Severed about to attack him.