Flare took the first step into the cave, the gentle hum of cavern darkness enveloping her. The morning was still young, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, but the blue lights in the water still shone. They weren't as bright as the night before, but they illuminated the cave nonetheless. Perhaps the night made them brighter.
"Hello?" Flare called out softly. No response reached her ears, except for the melodious tapping of water on the rock. It was calming, but not the sound she needed. She took a few more steps forward and squeezed through the opening towards the back.
As she entered, she saw a few steps that led down to a main room, with another door leading to what Flare assumed were living areas. A crystalline chandelier, tethered by a thin thread that looked like it could snap at any point, hung over a few chairs and a table. They looked like they were artfully crafted from beautiful black stone, like the table Flare had seen in the previous room. A winding stream curled around the edges of the room, filled with the same blue light, moving slowly through the water.
"Is anyone here?" she called again. No one replied. Her heart fell, but she pushed herself to remain optimistic. She still had more to explore, after all. With a deep breath, she crept down the stairs and entered the newest opening she saw.
It led into a room flickering with the dim light of a lantern. Stone shelves lined the walls, packed with weathered and timeworn books, their crinkled pages falling from their spines. Across from the entrance was a desk and chair, with a man hunched over the table. Flare stood there, watching him for a moment before she could muster up the courage to speak. His silver hair reflected the light, and his backside seemed old and frail. He was clothed in a long black robe, made from flowing fabric that looked like the darkest hour of midnight.
"Hello?" Flare said tentatively. The necromancer whipped his head around, staring at her with a cold and calculating eye.
"There's a reason I didn't respond to your first few calls, you know," he spoke. His voice wasn't kind, but it did have a touch of amusement in it.
"Sorry," Flare whispered, suddenly realizing she didn't have a plan. What would the cost of his services be? Would he grant them to her?
"Let me guess why you're here," he sighed, standing up and leaning against his desk. He folded his arms and scanned Flare up and down.
"Family member?"
Flare nodded.
"Parent?"
"No."
"Sibling, then."
"Yes."
"They died because of you."
Flare gulped and nodded yes.
"I don't help murderers," the old man sneered.
"I loved my brother with all my heart. It was an accident," Flare could barely choke out.
"Nothing personal, girl. I don't help much of anyone these days, unless their cause is noble. I've heard this story a million times before. A lone person with a dead family member they want to talk to," the necromancer shrugged. "So, goodbye. How'd you even find me?"
"Zephyr and Eternos," Flare said softly.
"Damnit. I'll have to take care of that," he mumbled, turning back to his desk and reorganizing his books.
"What are you still here for?" he asked in a cruel tone.
"I-" Flare stumbled over her words. Thoughts spun in her head, swirling around like a child's after spinning on a dizzying rope swing. She couldn't articulate what she meant to say. "Please. I came so far."
"Wow, how original," the old man rolled his eyes. "Please, leave."
"I need to talk to my brother," she begged. "Please. Just one more time. I crossed through places you couldn't imagine, encountered people who tried to kill and capture and steal me away, seen things I couldn't have even fathomed, and the only reason I kept going was because of my twin brother Ash. It was my fault that he died. And I regret it every day of my life," a tear slowly rolled down Flare's cheek, and she angrily wiped it away for fear the necromancer would mock her for it. "Please."
"No," he said firmly. "Go."
Flare stood there, stunned. Her feet stayed rooted to the ground, despite the clear orders to leave.
"Do I have to escort you out?" the necromancer growled.
"No," Flare said meekly, her vision clouded with tears. She swiped at them as she turned and walked back the way she came, the little blue lights that once promised her hope blurred and fuzzy through her tears.
On the way out of the cave, she bent down and hovered near the little moat. Flare placed her hand in the water, and instantly the water surged with blue light.
She took her hand out and walked out of the cave, the morning air suddenly colder against her wet cheeks. Suddenly, the pyromancer bolted, stumbling over leaves and rocks and listening to her heart race, her breath get heavier. Fiery red hair whipped in her face, and her tears blurred her vision even further. She blindly tumbled to a rock that sat on a blanket of fallen leaves and took a seat on it. Tears fell down her face as she sobbed into her hands in an angry, gut-wrenching, heart-stopping cry, a sad, mournful, devastating howl. It was the kind of cry that said she didn't care anymore. That she'd tried so hard, but she was done trying. As she cried, she thought about all she had done to get there and the realization that it was all worthless. Everything she had done, all she had been through, evaporated into the universe like it was never meant to be in the first place.

***

    Ember and Flint Firestone died in a volcanic eruption, but not before leaving behind two beautiful children, twins Ash and Flare. Ash and Flare didn't have much to remember their parents by besides warm, foggy memories that faded as time went on. They grew up with their Aunt Cinder in a pyromancer town, which, despite being very little, was colorful and vibrant, bursting with life and activity. Although she was kind, their aunt was rarely around, leaving Ash and Flare to fend for themselves a lot of the time.
The people in the town appreciated their art, and children began learning from a young age the craft of fire magic. Flare had always stood out as a skilled student, picking up on techniques quickly and able to communicate with fire long before the rest of the kids. She trained every chance she got, devoting herself to the practice until she was well on her way to becoming the best pyromancer in her town. Meanwhile, Ash was doing other things. He was a hard worker, and tried to be as dedicated as Flare, but pyromancy simply wasn't his interest. For every hour Flare spent practicing in the attic, which she had managed to convince Aunt Cinder to cover with fireproof lining, Ash had played a game of street soccer or made a new friend or been to a party. Everyone truly loved Ash - he was just the kind of person that people wanted to be around, exuding warmth and happiness and energy. Although Flare was always afraid Ash would leave her for all his new friends, he never did. And although Ash was always frightened that Flare would never have time for him and instead prefer to practice pyromancy all the time, she never did. The twins held a special bond, they had since they were babies and they knew they would for the rest of their lives.
The day was hot. Not just a regular hot, as was usual in the town. A blazing, scorching heat swallowed everything whole. Not a cloud could be seen in the sky, there wasn't a drop of water for a mile. If you cracked an egg on the cobblestone street, it would sizzle up within seconds. Ironically, Flare decided this was a perfect time to practice some pyromancy.
Aunt Cinder was out at a friend's house a few streets away, and would be for a few hours. Flare glanced out her window and saw a game of street soccer going on. Most of the players had taken their shirts off, and the sun glistened off their torsos, wet with sweat. She assumed Ash was playing, he always was.
Flare's aunt strictly prohibited her from practicing pyromancy inside the house, spare the fireproof attic. But the attic was temporarily locked up while they tried to get the infestation of roaches out, and Flare hadn't made a mistake in months. All she would do was practice this new trick she had been trying to learn for the past few days. What could go wrong?
Standing in the hall, Flare produced a small flame which danced in between her fingers. She smiled at it as it grew taller, flames licking the air around her like they were starving for more, swallowing the oxygen and in turn giving off light. But the smile slowly fell from her face as the fire grew bigger and bigger, and lapped at the corner of a cabinet. Before she could react, the cabinet was engulfed in flames, and it began spreading to the rest of the kitchen.

***

    "Are you okay?" she heard a gentle voice from behind her. She looked to her side to see a boy clambering onto the boulder and taking a seat next to her. He was dressed in all black - black tee shirt, black jeans, clunky black boots, even jet black hair - yet despite his intimidating ensemble, his face was kind and gentle. His features were warm, soft, and welcoming, practically inviting anyone who saw him to trust him immediately. For some reason, his face - those kind blue eyes, the gentle structure of his face - looked familiar; Flare was certain she had seen it somewhere, but she couldn't quite place it.
    "No," Flare hiccuped with a weak smile, wiping away her tears.

***

    She watched her home burn down that day, layer after layer collapsing in on each other like a crumbling house of cards. The smoke made it's way into her lungs, making her throat burn and eyes water, but she couldn't tear herself away. Everyone else, including the boys playing the game of street soccer, had come over to watch, and Flare waited for Ash to run over to her. But he never did. She combed through the crowd for her aunt, who was also searching.
    "Aunt Cinder, have you seen Ash?" Flare cried to her.
    "I left him at the house. He was in his room in the basement, he wasn't feeling well," her aunt replied, tears welling up in her eyes. Slowly Flare turned her attention back to the burning building. But it was too late. The house folded in on itself and a final blast of sparks erupted from the destruction, every wall and beam blackened and fizzling out. If someone was in that house, there was no surviving.
    Flare turned away and began running. Past colorful houses, past dead and dried trees, past everything until she collapsed next to the ocean, letting the sound of the waves drown out her wails. The waves lapped the shore, moving slowly back and forth like a heartbeat. Like lungs. But no amount of running or crying could fix what had happened.
    Ash was gone. And it was her fault.

***

"You can tell me," the boy said, smiling back, and in the boy's eyes Flare saw good. She saw good that she hadn't seen in anyone's eyes throughout her entire journey - not in Emperor Zephyr's or Queen Tera's eyes, not in Early's or Gale's eyes, not in Calico's or Eon's eyes, not in Chrysanthemum's or Fuchsia's eyes, not even in Dune's eyes. And with that small smile, with that little phrase, she felt whole again. She felt like she could trust someone, something she hadn't done ever since her brother died. Ever since she caused the death of her amazing twin brother Ash. So she opened her mouth and told the boy everything. She began with her brother, and she went on to tell of the young geomancer queen and her beautiful guard that she fell in love with at first sight, of the cherry blossom trees that blew petals into the wind that the aeromancers manipulated, of the roguish zomancer in pursuit of Flare's cat and the fox who left bloodstains on the cave floor, she spoke of the chronomancer with the silver hair who she found in a pool of blood in the basement and of her killer who she later encountered, of the cryomancers who told her wild stories until her eyelids drooped but she stayed awake to hear more, of the chronomancer king and his mossy castle wall that she climbed down, of the phytomancer with a heart of gold and the phytomancer's son with a moonlit bed and the reptilian creatures that held the town in the palm of their hand, and finally she told him of the necromancer in the cave that refused to help her.
    "I think I might be able to help you," the boy said.
    "How?" Flare asked, and suddenly she remembered of the young necromancer that Emperor Zephyr had told her of.
    "I'm Thane," he said. "And I'm Mortimer's son. I'm a necromancer too."
    "I'm Flare," she smiled, sniffling and wiping her eyes. Suddenly the stars aligned and it all felt worth it again. "And thank you."