SPARK: RISE OF THE ALCHEMIST

"Catch that rebel." The shouts echoed around her as the mob charged angrily after her. Her chest burned with her breaths shallow and painful. She could feel her heartbeat in her ears drumming slowly and steadily. She ran on in a trance. Her mind kept sliding back to that little bar, the body that lay next to broken wine bottles, blood blending sickeningly with the red wine, the severed head on the floor staring right at her... She reached out and called to the elements, she felt the power crawl along her arms to the tip of her fingers, the fog fell over her as she turned down another alley. She could hear the crowd falling further behind as the fog thickened, by the time she was turning down the last alley to the physician's house she could barely see a meter beyond her nose. The night had quieted down so she could hear the crickets and cicadas, a full moon shone overhead as she stumbled into the shop and bared the door. All she had seen and done for the past week hit her all at once like a charging bull. She slammed back into the door and slid to the floor as all the memories flashed in her brain. The spell, the stone, the ominous warning..."I dont know if its just nerves but ive had a bad feeling since you came. I dont think you should stay much longer, they might find you." The man in a cape, the bar, the bar, the bar... Eleanor gasped as she suddenly woke up leaning against the door, she was drenched in perspiration, her muscles bunched up with that cold fear clinging to the back of her neck like a leach slowly sucking away at the last of her courage, her resolve quietly fading... No El keep it together. you've come way too far to just suddenly give up here. There is no choice but foward....dont stop now. She reached for the crimson stone in her cloak. It glowed in her arms reaching out to her, calling, soothing, no, it was seducing. It radiated gentle warmth on a winter night, pulsing slowly contrasting the rhythmic thud of her heart. She felt its power, in her arms, up her spine, gently soothing her tight shoulders, running up and down her neck, warming her cheeks. Touching, teasing, caressing, like a lovers whisper it drew her in. She tore herself from the trance and rose to start her ritual. She lay her herbs on the floor and lit the candle then she drew her circle with the candle as its centre. She then sat cross legged outside the circle and pulled out her dagger. With a deep shaky breath she slit across her palm and grabbed the stone. She felt the power travel through her entire body as if struck by lightening. It moved through her strengthening her, her own power rose to meet it, burning beautifully in the pit of her stomach. The stone now hummed, a strong steady song of power and pain, of victory and sacrifice. She started her incantation.