Daughter of Fire ( The Daughter of Fire Saga Book 1 )

S Ø R E N

“I DID ASK for help,” the Boss frowned, stroking his chin. He made it sound as though he was not entirely sure of it himself. “But the Olympians turned me away and said that it was my problem to deal with. I cannot help but feel that they could have prevented a lot of innocent deaths.”

“Well, Kronos did give you a chance,” Savannah pointed out, visibly becoming agitated in her seat. “It is your own fault for those deaths —”

“Savannah,” Søren scolded.

“No. She is right,” the Boss surprised them with an agreement. “It was my fault. I did not and still cannot see what the whole thing was about —it’s not as though it changed the very fabric of reality. But as angry as I am with myself, I am more furious with the gods,” he grumbled, moving to rest his chin in one hand. “Perhaps because ‘family’ rarely means anything to them.”

There was a lengthy pause in acknowledgement of the last sentence, before the Boss realised what he had said. “…Oh, don’t feel bad. I should be used to it. They are more like those aunts and uncles who try their hardest to avoid attending family reunions.”

Savannah then glanced at Søren and shot him a slightly amused look at that description of the other gods, before turning back to the Boss. “So…you and me. We’re like cousins?” she asked.

Søren tensed. The Boss did not look any less unnerved, and shifted again. “Yes…sort of,” he mumbled. The Trainer frowned. Was it really better to lie to her than let her know the real relationship between them?

Søren coughed very obviously, while glancing at Savannah several times once he had gained the Boss’ attention.

‘Tell her’, Søren mouthed. Death shook his head slowly. Savannah then cleared her throat and sat upright in her chair.

“Can we talk about light projection,” she said, making it sound more like a demand than a request. “Mine specifically.”

The god of death looked all too relieved and summoned his fourth glass of wine since they had started talking. He sighed deeply, whirling the glass gently in a circular motion. “You can manifest light. Usually through the hands, like in your case. It packs tremendous force and it can be incredibly blinding. It is more of a defence mechanism than weapon. It is also not genetic —so do not get any ideas of thinking that you could be a descendant of someone like the Titan Helios.”

“So, it’s just random?” Savannah concluded.

“Precisely.”

The Reaper pressed her lips into a line. Søren found himself wondering what was going through her head. She was like a kaleidoscope —an exuberant array of different thoughts; and her façade while she did it was as unreadable as a kaleidoscope’s outer shell was unassuming.

Her next actions though, reminded him that she was still very much Savannah. She glanced downwards, and then slowly raised her hand. The Boss did not stop her, even though her palm was facing him. Søren was about to move forward to divert the direction of her hand, but the Boss was undeterred.

And then the Trainer saw why.

Nothing came from Savannah’s hand. She shook her hand vigorously, but no light nor magic sparked. The Reapers both frowned, suddenly uncertain about everything that they had been told.

“Confused?” the Boss drawled in a highly amused tone. They nodded in unison. “…I said that it’s defensive. And you are rather new to this, so I would not expect your powers to engage again so soon. And if you’re out to seriously hurt someone with light projection, you will find that it’s easier to thread a waxed mountain climbing rope through a sewing needle.”

Savannah clasped her hands together and looked down guiltily, and Søren saw a rosy hue colour her cheeks. He fought with himself to sympathise because of her clear embarrassment, and instead played uncaring delinquent; folding his arms and pressing his lips into a line.

“Well, that concludes our conversation,” the Boss announced, clapping his hands together. “Back to the library?”

“I hope that it’s not in that horrid frilly joke again,” Savannah grumbled, getting up begrudgingly.

“No,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “It was amusing while it lasted.”

“And my sword? Is that still going to take a day?”