XX. Pretty Trinket

At this point, Eleanor could not hear anything but the wood breaking in the flames. She attempted to reach out to Sirius, but cannot: not a thing was valuable enough to strike another deal, the voice was not tempted after taking decades of her lifetime when she used her power earlier. She remembered that she was still holding Cephas, his paling face resting against her shoulder, eyes struggling to not yield against the weights death placed upon his lids.

Then she felt it, a searing heat right below the midst of her collarbone. She winced, a hand shooting to the irritated area to find a forgotten trinket: she drew out the pendant from its chain, the jadeite seemingly innocent of any peculiarity until she laid it in her hand, when its unusual warmth gave her an illusion of the stone smoldering like the world about her.

She was about to drop the pendant when Cephas unexpectedly placed a hand against hers in holding it. Then all the sudden, the heat died out to be replaced with a relieving coolness that increased in intensity until it became altogether bitingly cold.


A cool breath, so wintry in comparison to the fires around them encased the two, and Eleanor could not help but shiver at the sudden change. The sigh of air took up vigor and circled, spinning and twisting until it howled, forming a cocoon that withstood even when the wooden complex gave way to the inferno.

Among the chaos, Eleanor found herself wondering again: it wasn’t her power but something grander, that took hold of her consciousness and drew her into yet another memory.


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