Painting by Greta Fields
Is a candle alive? Its flames breathe in and out. The heat of a continuing flicker warms all who venture near. A candle has breath and gives light and life to a room. Perhaps, it is right to claim that a candle is alive. A logical argument to the few with imaginative minds, but irrational to the many who would rather be cold from a candle’s absence than claim its liveliness.
Holly is counted as one of the few who possess an imaginative mind. When she was young, candles were all over her father’s manor. Each Evergreen child was tasked with helping blow out the candles at night. It became a bedtime game of sorts. Holly loved blowing the candles out that were in the library. She would take the last lit candle and pick out a fairytale. Then, she would take both and curl up on a chaise to read. Keeping her eyes open always became difficult after a few hours. Her father never failed to find her and, sometimes Holly would wake to find him blowing out the candle before carrying her to bed. Holly kept her eyes closed to feign sleep, but a smile eventually gave her away when her father placed a sweet kiss on her forehead. He whispered the same phrase each night, “Goodnight, little flame.” The phrase has never left Holly’s heart, and she hears it every time a candle flame flickers in the night.
Some can pinpoint certain objects from their childhood that spark long-lost memories. Memories are not always good though. Holly may see a candle and picture joyful moments, but she can also see a candle and be reminded of fire—a fire that does not warm, but one that burns.
She still can vividly picture the Royal Road aflame. The road lined all the way up to Ferncastle’s entryway path. Even the flames reached the castle itself, smoke clouded the air with black fog, embers carried into an unseen sky, and screams pierced an already bleak and dark night. Holly had not been to the Royal City in some time, but something had compelled her to go back.
Holly watched from afar, several streets from the fire on top of a roof. She had to cover her mouth with her cloak; coughing as smoke continued to fill the air, even from far down. It was difficult to make out what was happening in the commotion. Magic had been banned a long time ago, so instead of water wielders—the ones who could collect water molecules from the air, townsfolk with buckets and hoses went to work trying to stifle the flames.
Tears pricked Holly’s eyes at the sight. Fern Kingdom used to be her home, and slowly she felt as if her life was burning along with it. Imaginative as her mind was, Holly wished she did not look at a candle and picture destruction, like the time in Royal City. But although a candle may be alive…it is what breathes the flame to life that can bring true terror.
~Present Day~
The wind was blowing the hardest it had the whole year. In the streets, merchants gave up on money for the day and started packing up, careful not to let their carts be taken with the wind. Mothers gripped their child’s hand tight, shouting over the wind to tell them to keep up. A husband stuck close by his wife’s side, attempting comforting and endearing words as she trembled with fear. Holly looked on at the sight of numerous families, a solemn countenance taking over her. She flinched at the flash and sound of lightning. It could not have been far with how quickly the thunder echoed. She imagined her mood matched the impending storm. All she had of her father, brothers, and sisters were memories, and even those were starting to fade.
Holly tripped over a jutted-out cobblestone but managed to catch herself before running into a newsboy who ran past.
“Newspaper, newspaper! Get your news for only five coppers!” Newsboy repeated the announcement all the way in the opposite direction of Holly. Because people really want to stop and buy a newspaper right as a storm is blowing through. Everyone in the town of Ashton would be able to say they were familiar with storms, but it did not mean fear was nonexistent. Even Holly, one who found rain and thunder more peaceful than sunshine, had shaking hands. Keeping a brisk pace, Holly continued on towards her destination: the town library.
The Ashton library was small, warm, and always inviting. A bell on the door rang each time someone entered or exited. Holly held her breath at the sound of its chime when she opened the old oak door. Before she could close it softly, the wind forced it shut.
“Holly, dear!” A welcoming tone greeted her. Holly took off her hood and ran her fingers through tangled blonde waves.
“Good evening, Euro!” Holly walked up to the library’s counter and put arms on top to rest her chin. Euro’s brown beard was shorter than when Holly last saw him, and somehow the brown was more vibrant in his head of curls; gray hairs not as prominent.
“Nelsa’s Hair & Such tried out a new brown dye on me.” Euro waved his hand dramatically to his hair, producing a chuckle from Holly in response.
“It is wonderful, dear friend. Did you meet someone?” Holly inquired with an accompanying mischievous grin. Euro shrugged but could not help but smile as if he were thinking of that special someone right at this moment.
“I did, in fact. She is making us dinner tonight. Means I’ll have to let Rodrik close the library down.” Euro stopped smiling and looked over to his left. Rodrik went to take a book from
a stack and, in turn, knocked multiple books to the floor. Euro shook his head with disappointment and let out a tired sigh.
“It will be good to have the night off. You deserve it,” Holly told him. She meant every word. Multiple towns were being affected by mysterious fires, and that meant libraries had been burned—so much knowledge and history lost. Euro, Rodrik, and others made sure the Ashton library did not succumb to the same fate. Every single book had been in the process of being recopied, and originals were locked away belowground.
A flash of lightning resounded from outside. Holly believed the storm was even closer than she had previously thought. Euro saw Holly’s gaze, her focus outside.
“Weather wielders.” The two words brought Holly’s attention back to Euro.
“Wielders don’t exist anymore.” Holly thought she believed that. Thirteen years ago, when Holly was eight, all wielders were driven out of Fern Kingdom. Any wielder who stayed was either killed or imprisoned. It would be naive to believe none found a way to stay, but to use their ability so publicly would draw too much suspicion. Therefore, yes, Holly thought, wielders can’t be real anymore.
“It is the only thing that would make sense given the mysterious fires and storms.” Euro opened a book in front of him and pointed to a map of Fern Kingdom. “Every crossed marking is a town devastated by fire. Every circle is a town torn up by wind and storms.” Euro pointed to Ashton that had a circle. The Royal City—home to the once great Ferncastle and royal Fern family, was the one crossed out the largest. The city is where the fires had started.
If there are wielders in Ashton, the Guard will find them.
“If there are wielders in Ashton, the Guard will find them,” Holly insisted, wanting dearly to change the subject. Royal soldiers, called the Guard, occupied every city and took orders from The King and Queen, but they had been missing since Holly was eleven. Only the children remained but were forced to stay at an estate in an unknown location due to Ferncastle still remaining in ashes. Before the majesties went missing, the Guard was ordered to protect the cities and be on the lookout for wielders. No one had heard of any being caught, which is why Holly was not persuaded about the idea of the fires and storms being caused by wielders.
“Yes, the Guard will.” Euro’s smile was small and forced, but Holly figured he was just tired.
“May I?” Holly gestured to the many shelves behind her.
“Of course. Help yourself.” Euro’s smile became more genuine again. She started to make her way to the main staircase that spiraled up to the second floor. An evergreen tree stood at the base of the stairs, decorated with red, gold ornaments, and twinkling lights. Rodrik waved up to Holly, almost falling off the ladder he was currently balancing on. Holly gave a warm smile at the familiar clumsy sight. Her hand slowly slid up the shiny oak railing, her green eyes locked on each floor to ceiling shelf of the second floor, and her nose took in every pine and woody scent. All her senses were alive, and her heart ached at the onslaught of memories the senses brought with them. Holly used to live in a home with a library. It smelled exactly the same. Her father built the library for Holly’s mother. Neither Holly nor her siblings were born yet, but the tale was told more times than one could count. Noelle Miracle, who had chocolate curls, warm hazel eyes, and the kindest smile, captured the heart of Joseph Evergreen. He vowed when they married to give her his whole heart. A man of his word, Joseph did indeed give Noelle all she could ask for. She was satisfied with simply being in love and claimed she had all she could need. However, there is one request she had of Joseph the morning of their wedding; Noelle requested his last name. He was more than happy to give her that, and so much more, such as the library of Evergreen Manor that Holly found solace in as a little girl. The passing of her mother only made the library that much more special for the Evergreen family.
Holly closed her eyes and took in a shaky breath just thinking of her parents. She was the only Evergreen left to hold onto tales like the love story between Noelle and Joseph. Just like the two had made vows to each other, Holly made a vow that she would never forget every memory of her family.
The reminder of her parents’ love story is more than likely the reason Holly picked up a romantic fairytale. Its cover was fresh and new, a book that had recently been re-copied. Right as Holly went to open the cover, thunder shook the library. In one second, the air was warm and silent, and then in the next, the roof was gone from above her and bringing with it a gust of cold rain. Holly dropped the book and felt the wind throw her to the ground. One shelf of the book cracked and with it came an onslaught of splinters and torn pages. To prevent her head from hitting the ground, Holly landed all her weight on her ankle and arm. If her adrenaline was not pumping so rapidly, Holly would have noticed the bruises and pain.
In the distance, Holly imagined there was shouting downstairs, but the wind was roaring too loud for the words to be coherent. She braved a look up, squirting as rain continuously pelted her eyes, and gawked at the sight of the darkest sky she had ever seen. Purple clouds clashed with lightning and rain. There was no funnel cloud indicating a tornado, but the force of the wind and forming of hail felt like one. A shadow fell from the sky and landed in front of Holly’s scared and shaky form. The person was wearing a deep violet hood. Eyes of glowing purple smiled down to Holly. In one blink, the person vanished in a plume of gray smoke. The wind ceased at the disappearance of the strange figure.
The quiet that followed was deafening and more than a little frightening. Holly braced out her unbruised hand and hobbled awkwardly onto her feet. She grunted in pain as she climbed down the stairs—stairs that had miraculously survived the storm. At the bottom, Rodrik was huddled in a corner, crying into shaking hands. Other than being an emotional wreck, he seemed uninjured. Euro was where Holly went to next. He was on the ground by his desk; a bouquet of flowers clutched in his right hand. His eyes were without life, and Holly did not need to check his pulse to confirm. The arrow in his heart was indication enough. She bent down and cried over her friend’s body. Euro was on his way to find true love, but someone took that away from him. Holly felt her hot tears fall on his cold face. She hugged Euro close and had enough mind to ask who could have done this out loud to herself, but the answer was clear. The violet hooded figure murdered Euro, and Holly Evergreen was going to do whatever it took to find him and make him pay. ◆
Emma Richie, a born Kentucky southerner and patriot, fell in love with writing when she fell in love with reading. When she is not in the Chemistry lab, you’ll find her stepping into the dreamlike worlds that words can create.
Pensworth 