So, I don't know how many people remember The Fire's Heart, that novel I uploaded more than half of on Vizzed. Well, I'm working on the second draft and promise to show everyone it as soon as it's finished, but for now, I'm working on a side-project with my cousin about two sisters, Ellie and Gracie. They live in an alternate twenty-first century just like ours- if you add Frost Breathers to the north, some magic, and Intangible Brokers that can cure nightmares and take away unpleasant memories for a set price, into the mix! 

This is the first chapter. Because I originally planned to make it a novel in verse, each chapter has a little short poem or verse at the beginning of it. 

The ending's sappy and stereotypical, but it IS only the first chapter... Please let me know what you think! Chapter two will be up as soon as I finish it.


Two flames coiled around a single coal-
One destined to burn bright,
One destined to be ground to the soul.
Still the flames dance closer and closer intertwined
Twisting as forward creeps the ice so fine.

BIRTHDAY

Ellie Giata’s eighteenth birthday was a quiet, reserved affair. She baked herself a muffin, telling Damien she wouldn’t waste flour on a full cake (because what good is a cake alone?), and ate it by the fireplace while Damien left to cinch a deal at work. Even on her birthday, she had to head down to do the shopping, but she was glad she could spend her day away from Damien, even if it was only until he returned. The only thing that sullied the day was that she was alone; her tutor (arranged for her by the ever-generous Miss Highwater, against Damien’s protests) would not be coming this week, and though Ellie was certainly capable of taking a train to visit Gracie and Father, she was too afraid of Damien to risk it, and they likewise.

So Ellie licked the crumbs off of her fingers, braided her hair, pulled on her coat, and exited into the frigid air, watching her breath billow around her. She did not like being this far north, though she had northern blood in her from her mother. Perhaps she disliked it precisely for that reason. Ellie’s proper first name was Eleanor, just like her mother, but woe betide anyone who tried to call her that! In that way, she tried to take one aspect of her life and make it her own- since everything else clearly belonged to either God or Damien.

Their house was in the midst of the city, and she wove her way past heavily-coated and muffled civilians. She smiled and greeted each one, and they greeted her in turn- everyone knew Damien’s sweet, young trophy wife, the girl from the south that carried, in her veins, blood of the north.

It was not unusual, for young girls to marry for a set price, but in the north the practice was less common than in others. Though, who could argue with Damien Morvant, son of an affluent Baron in cahoots with the mayor and several big-shot politicans? No one knew why, four years ago, Damien picked Ellie-she herself didn’t know- and everyone knew better than to ask.



Elsewhere, as Ellie Giata-Morvant did her morning shopping, another birthday was being celebrated- not alone in quiet bliss, but an extravagant, all-out affair of feasting, laughter, and indulgence.

Sable Iceheart’s two-hundredth and thirty-second birthday found her thrusting a glass of bloody wine towards the rippling, colorful tapestry of the Aurora Borealis above. Her cheeks were flushed pink with excitement and thrill, her long curly black hair cascading down her back and flowing over her shoulders. Her blue eyes sparkled, matching the winking stars above, and her dress shone like glistening ice. She was the paradigm of beauty for the Frost Breathers- as she should be.

“Cheers, friends!” she shouted, and the assembled mass of Frost Breathers, pale, blue-eyed fiends of the northern mountains, cried in agreement. They were so far north they were rarely seen. Northers? Pah. They were the true northerners, so accustomed to the icy wind that it was always on their breath, the cold on their lips.

Sable smirked. They were all waiting for her to take the first taste. She tilted back her head and poured the drink in, swallowed, and wiped her mouth with the back of a well-manicured hand. She called, “Let the feast begin!”

Another cheer, and a chant rose up from a hundred throats. “Iceheart, Iceheart, Iceheart!” Sable smiled again and turned, letting the train of her dress trail out behind her and leaving her people to gorge.

“Sable!”

Sable had been half-way to the Mirror Room when she’d been caught. She spun around scowling. “What?”

“You’re leaving the feast? But it’s for you!” whined the boy. Her brother. He had the same dark hair and frigid eyes, but nowhere near the attitude or poise.

“Yes, Nido, I am,” she replied. “I need to check on the Mirror.”

“You’ve been spending more and more time with it,” Nido protested. He looked nine years old (as Sable looked eighteen), but unlike his sister, he sometimes acted like the age he was feigning, despite being over seventy. Masquerading youth was something the Frost Breathers excelled at they had it nailed down to an art; only the violet-eyed Empress and her own people to the west were any better.

Now, Nido rubbed his toe against the tiles of the floor, barefoot as always and acting like a nervous child. Usually, Sable found it endearing. Now, she found it irritating. Why act so naïve and infantile?

“I don’t care,” she snapped. “And act your age!” She stalked off as behind her, Nido suddenly looked sixteen, a malignant smirk so like his sister’s painted on his face as he slinked into the shadows.




“Paper or plastic?”

“Plastic,” Ellie sighed. Damien preferred paper, but it was easier to carry the plastic, and- oh, he wasn’t here! Why did she have to defend her decision to herself? It was such a stupid choice. Paper or plastic? She chose plastic. That was all she needed.

“All right, then,” said the shop boy- who was really a young man; he looked to be about twenty- and started checking her items. “Everything satisfactory today, Madam Morvant?”

Being Damien’s wife made her a Baron, and that meant special privileges and recognition. Many women would gladly volunteer to marry him for that alone- plus, Damien was quite the looker.

Ellie hated him regardless.

“Yes, everything was,” she said, because no one ever said anything else when asked such a question. Why bother asking people if they’re all right or okay if the only answer wanted is a positive?

The boy handed her the bags. His nametag glinted in the light. Derek. “Glad to hear it. Come again!”

Ellie moved on, and Derek tended to the next customer in line.

It had begun to snow by the time Ellie was outside again. Snow this early in December? She thought. Usually, the region received more in the latter half of winter, though that was just from her experience, and this was merely her fourth winter in this part of the country. She didn’t know anything about land this far north. She hated that she felt almost a foreigner here, and she was struck with a dull blow of homesickness as she walked. Ellie was often homesick, but for some reason, this time it was worse.

By the time she reached the stone wall that surrounded the Morvant mansion, she sorely missed the warmer, milder, rainier winters of her home. She’d always complained of the profuse rain as a child, and now she wondered how she could have been so stupid. Snow was beautiful and sparkling, but cold and powdery. Rain could be both chill and warm, changing. Better to have variation.

Ellie walked through the cute, picturesque gardens into the house, dumped the groceries on the counter, and checked the calendar and to-do list on the fridge. The cleaning lady would be coming tomorrow, so in terms of chores, she’d be done as soon as she put away the groceries.

Ellie turned and started working on it when she heard the door open and slam shut, wondering what Damien was doing home so early.

“Ellie?” she heard him. “I’m home!”

Ellie rushed out to greet him. “Welcome back, dear,” she said.

Damien gave her a quick peck on the cheek and asked, “What’re you up to, birthday girl?”

“Just finishing up the groceries,” she answered. “What do you want for dinner? I was going to put a soup on, but if you want something else, I could-“

“Mm, I don’t need to eat. You’re so adorable I could just gobble you up, and I get my fill just looking at you,” Damien said. “I want to take us out today. For your birthday.”

“Oh, really? Thank you!”

“Anytime, sweetie.”

It was so easy to banter and pretend, to act like she didn’t loathe him for ripping her from her life. Yet she also pitied him for being such a lonely soul and sometimes felt guilt for not being the wife he wanted or needed. And she knew he was pretending too- pretending to believe her when she said she loved him, acting like he trusted her empty promises of happiness and contentment. That was what their life together centered around, careful theatrics of infatuation and devotion that were nothing but hollow words.

“You’re back early,” Ellie said. “Did you close the deal?”

“Yup,” Damien sighed, sinking into a soft armchair. “Say, Ellie, want to eat by the river or in the city?”

It didn’t matter what she said. He’d choose whatever he wanted anyway, but it was better to allow him the fantasy of letting her make a choice.

“Surprise me,” she said, and winked.




Nido, wearing the form of a little boy- his favorite guise- walked down the streets of the city with all his senses on high alert. He was barefoot even now, and frost laced his footprints. When his breath fogged onto glass, the vapors hardened into a soft sheen of ice. These defining traits of a Frost Breather, he could not hide, but people were so blind when they wanted to be. No one would associate the cute little boy with the fabled ice creatures to the far north.
“Excuse me, sir,” Nido asked a passing man, his voice thick with an accent. The tongues of these mortal fools felt so strange and heavy in his mouth, words unnatural in sound and form.

“Yes?” the man paused his brisk, hurried walk. His face displayed patience for a small tyke like him, but Nido saw the true colors. An image of getting away from him flashed in his mind, and Nido tried not to laugh.

“Could you please point me in the direction of the River Restaurant?” Nido beamed.

The man gave him quick instructions on how to find it, clearly wanting to get on with things- as Nido had seen. Nido smirked and made his way there, casting a quick spell to hide in the shadows. Usually, such magic left considerable residue, but no one here would be able to detect it.

Nido settled down, crossed his legs, and waited for a certain birthday girl and her husband, as the Mirror instructed, and as Sable wished. He thought he had better things to do than stalk some pathetic blonde girl for absolutely no reason. He could be ferreting out traitors for Sable instead. Sable thought almost everyone was a threat to her, and it was only a matter of time before she turned on him. In fact, it surprised him that she hadn’t yet. In a way, pretending to be a small child sometimes made her forget he wasn’t.

Though he supposed it was also because of his special ability to see into people’s deepest emotions, which proved invaluable when looking for treasonous hearts. This power made him important to Sable, and also immune to her own ploys. If she ever thought about making sure Nido would meet an unfortunate accident, Nido would know. It occurred to him that this meant he was possibly the only person who could overthrow Sable, should he wish, but he didn’t want for it. He thought being a king would be extremely boring.

Not that this was any better.

Nido must have gotten there early, and he waited until the sun had just set before he finally saw her coming. “About time,” he muttered, stretching. Once Ellie and Damien entered, he moved to follow them in and stood behind them in line.

“Reservation for Morvant,” the husband said. Nido took a moment to study him. He had straight brown hair, dull and common brown eyes, and a body boasting muscle, even though he wore a black suit and a tie that seemed intent on choking him. Clearly, he did not know how to tie a tie, and his wife had done it a bit too tightly. He wondered if it had been done so on purpose.

That made him study the wife, this Ellie. The Mirror had shown her wearing her long hair in a common braid, but now it hung loose, halfway down her back. She didn’t look anything like a threat or anomaly- her hair was too light, her eyes too drab, though her skin was incredibly pale. She did, he thought, bear some slight resemblance to Sable, but she looked too young and babyish; perhaps he only thought of her as such because, compared to his lifespan and Sable’s, eighteen was incredibly young.

“This way, Lord and Madam Morvant,” said a waiter, leading them to a table, and suddenly, Nido was at the front of the line.

“May I help you?” the waiter in charge of reservations and seating asked. Annoyance radiated off of him in thick waves that Nido easily caught.

“Ah, yes.” Nido cleared his throat. “Reservation for Iceheart. My parents went ahead of me. I’m Nido.”

The waiter frowned, furrowing his brow as he checked the list. “There’s no reservation for Iceheart listed.”

“Check again,” Nido said, and remembering how children were expected to behave to their elders, added, “Please.”

The waiter read the list, and Nido seized a mental picture of the waiter carrying him out and throwing him out onto the streets, laughing at the street urchin thinking he could con his way into the restaurant. Irritated, Nido let out a slow, laborious breath laden with sorcery. “Ah, Iceheart,” the waiter said. “My apologies. I must have missed it. This way, Master Nido.”

Nido smirked as the waiter led him to a table near the Morvants- close enough to see and hear them easily, but far enough to appear incognito. He held up his menu and pretended to be perusing it, watching the two closely.

“Wine, sir?”

“Of course! We’d like a bottle. We’re not driving home, are we?” laughed the husband, and Ellie chuckled. Nido saw no betrayal in her features, but like so many insignificant humans, she broadcast her emotions in a signal Nido could easily tune to. He caught an image of her supporting the husband- Damien- as he stumbled along in drunken stupor. However, it was gone before he could tell if such an occurrence had happened before, Damien had a bad tolerance of alcohol and it was likely to transpire, or if Ellie was simply a chronic worrier. She gave Damien the slightest quick glance, and Damien said, “Actually, just one glass each for me and the lady.”

The waiter bowed, poured them a glass, and glided over to Nido’s table. “Hello, little boy. Are your parents here?”

“Excuse me?”

The waiter blinked, confusion blossoming in his eyes, and Nido resisted the urge to laugh. Though the waiter had seen a nine-year-old, he was now looking at a broad-shouldered, handsome man. The hair and eyes were the same, shining with mischievous intent. “My apologies, sir,” the waiter said. “Wine?”

“Vintage, my good man,” Nido ordered. With trickery and magic footing the bill of his trip, he might as well enjoy himself. If Sable thought he’d remain in a restaurant and starve, she was finally getting senile.

The waiter replied with a promise to bring a selection of the restaurant’s vintage wines and scuttled off. Nido paid little attention to him, pulling the menu up again. Fabricating intense, engrossing interest, Nido kept his focus on Ellie and her husband. He wasn’t impressed by what he saw. A million lousy first impressions sprang to mind, and his first impressions were usually right.




“I’m in the mood for caviar and steak,” Damien said. “Pick what you want, dear. Money’s no object.”

This was more than about her birthday, Ellie realized. Never had he treated her like this. He must have been trying to apologize for the argument last night. It hadn’t been particularly heated, but the ending had been punctuated with a sharp, stinging slap. Ellie was used to slaps, even before she married Damien four years ago, but Damien was not used to losing control physically (though he often did verbally).

“Mm, I think I’d like the salmon,” Ellie replied. If he was feeling guilty, maybe she could broach the subject gently and hope he’d change his mind.

“The ‘l’ in ‘salmon’ is silent, Ellie,” Damien said.

“Is it?” Ellie grinned playfully. She never bothered trying to work on her slight accent, and it drove Damien crazy.
“Yes, it is. You really just want fish?”

“I have simple tastes. I just wasn’t born for money,” she sighed, and Damien smiled.

“Your lack of materialism is quite attractive, actually.” Damien took a sip of wine and continued, “So, because your heart desires so little, it’s that much easier for me to get it. What do you require?”

Tread carefully, Ellie thought. “It’s been so long since I rode a train. What’s Aren like?”

Aren, the capital city.

“Boring,” Damien answered. “Trust me, you wouldn’t like it there. It’s just Baron women squealing for their husbands to buy them things, some theatres, a mall or two, and a couple of casinos.”

“I don’t gamble.”

“Naturally,” Damien sniffed, “because it’s my money. But maybe, if you want, I could take you to a play.”

“I’d love that.” She raised her own glass almost to her lips and added, “Maybe we could stop at Haven for a couple hours on the way.” She took a sip, feeling Damien’s mood plummet as the tart taste of the wine struck her tongue. Was it really that sour, or was Ellie only imagining it that way, because she knew exactly what Damien would say next?

“We discussed this last night,” Damien growled. “I don’t have to remind you how that ended.”

Ellie’s hand came up to gingerly touch her cheek at the memory of the pain. “No, you don’t.”

“It’s a waste of your time. Why are you so attached to that village anyway?”

“Damien, it’s my hometown. I haven’t seen Gracie or Father since the wedding. I only see the tutor! Surely you understand homesickness.”

“I also understood that, after the wedding, you told me you hated them.”

“Father. I hated Father for-“ She stopped. She couldn’t say ‘for selling me’ in front of him. “Anyway. I could never hate Gracie. It… had nothing to do with her. Even if I did hate Father, hate melts after four years!”

Damien let out a long, frustrated sigh. “You write letters. You call them.”

“Only Gracie writes back, and Father never speaks on the phone.”

“Well, maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you! What do you need to see them for?”

“They’re my family.” She was pleading now, pleading for the basic right to see her sister and father.

“Ellie, seeing them will only make things worse.”

It occurred to Ellie that perhaps, even after four years, they still had a place in her heart that kindled Damien’s jealousy, because though she pitied him and could honestly say was fond of him, what she felt towards him was not love. He was a possessive man, and not having her completely made him want it all the more.

“Make things worse?” she repeated.

Damien threw his hands into the air, exasperated. “I’m trying to protect you!”

“From what? My family?”

“Yes!”

“If that’s the case, I can protect myself!”

“Fine! Go see them!” Damien snapped. “I give up, but I’m coming with you.”

It was a victory, but it didn’t feel like one. Still, Ellie leaned over and kissed him. At that moment, maybe she really did love him, just a bit.

Amazing job! This story is going to be exciting, I just know it. I liked how you built up tension throughout it all. You're a talented writer.

A user of this : Thanks! This story is very difficult to write because it's so dependent on characters. I'm always happy to see someone's enjoyed my writing!

This is a very interesting story! I would love to see you finish it and get it published! I would definitely buy the book if you would do that, and a lot of other people would too, as not too many people know of Vizzed.

tyranit : Thank you! It's my dream to get a book published!

Awesome story fantastic! But do you know that this has broken 2 of the rules?

https://www.vizzed.com/boards/thread.php?id=74472

imamonster : Oh Jeez. I will remove my layout for the next chapters. Whups. My apologies. But I can't figure out what the second rule is... 

Oh whoops only one rule. Keep making these amazing stories. I will read them.