yearning to be heard. Candle stared up at his soon to be killer, and knew that this would be it. This would be his death. Knowing he was to die, as the beast took another step towards him, bringing itself right over Candle, Candle closed his eyes, and listened to the sweet, roaring storm of language. If he were to die, it would be with the words of Faerie in his mind, so he might die a full fae, and not the half-breed abomination he had always been called. He let the voice of Faerie wash over him, in a language that tasted like the sun. In his mind, he saw flashes of stars, of palaces and kingdoms lost to time, and those who once ruled, with the power of the heavens at their command. And he saw the flame. He saw a fire of red and white and gold, and it knew him. Someone shouted his name, and he heard it as though far away. He opened his eyes to see who called for him. Looking up, he saw the creature had stopped above him; panic lined its bestial face. It tried to back away, and Candle instinctively lifted an arm in defense. In doing so, a lance of light arced from his fingertips, and struck the creature, which burst into flames, flesh but a fond memory as the wind swept its ashes away. shit, kid!” Candle looked around and saw Storm staring at him, her mouth agape. “Holy lit up like a gods damn bonfire!” “You’re Staring down at himself, Candle saw that he was encased in a shimmering field, of red and gold and white. It swept over him in waves, mere inches from his flesh. It was warm, this cocoon of magic. Candle breathed deep, and saw the field contract, and then release as he
yearning to be heard. Candle stared up at his soon to be killer, and knew that this would be it. This would be his death. Knowing he was to die, as the beast took another step towards him, bringing itself right over Candle, Candle closed his eyes, and listened to the sweet, roaring storm of language. If he were to die, it would be with the words of Faerie in his mind, so he might die a full fae, and not the half-breed abomination he had always been called. He let the voice of Faerie wash over him, in a language that tasted like the sun. In his mind, he saw flashes of stars, of palaces and kingdoms lost to time, and those who once ruled, with the power of the heavens at their command. And he saw the flame. He saw a fire of red and white and gold, and it knew him. Someone shouted his name, and he heard it as though far away. He opened his eyes to see who called for him. Looking up, he saw the creature had stopped above him; panic lined its bestial face. It tried to back away, and Candle instinctively lifted an arm in defense. In doing so, a lance of light arced from his fingertips, and struck the creature, which burst into flames, flesh but a fond memory as the wind swept its ashes away. “Holy shit, kid!” Candle looked around and saw Storm staring at him, her mouth agape. “You’re lit up like a gods damn bonfire!” Staring down at himself, Candle saw that he was encased in a shimmering field, of red and gold and white. It swept over him in waves, mere inches from his flesh. It was warm, this cocoon of magic. Candle breathed deep, and saw the field contract, and then release as he
cahill_Thesis.docx