20
Fire. Ice.
Fire. Ice.
I was lost in a sea of fire and ice.
I drifted away, either burning or freezing, just moving with the current, going with the flow.
Letting it take me.
Drowning.
Dying.
Then, something sparked in my chest. A pull, a tug, a calling. It started like a soft whisper, but it grew in intensity until it became a shout.
“Mirella!”
My body went rigid as I tried snapping from the power that took hold of me. There was someone calling me. I had to answer.
“Mirella, can you hear me?”
“She’s unconscious.”
“By Saint Sara-la-Kali.”
Arms snaked under me and pulled me up. I was pressed against a warm chest. The scent of vetiver and wood and musk filled my nostrils.
Home. It smelled like home.
“She’s freezing,” someone said.
“Mirella, wake up.”
“Use your fire. Heat
