Heart of the Fire
Mythic Fantasy
Silent and unmoving, She-Wolf Thym awaited the Cold Queen’s wisdom. Help us survive, she wanted to cry. My forest burns—those I swore to protect are swallowed by flame and smoke.
The monarch’s rigid gown splayed before her, its frost-feather weave brittle. Her diamond-dust eyes regarded the werewolf, her fur already glazed with hoarfrost. Without passion, the Cold Queen said, “Follow Eagle River. Seek the black earth that burns.”
“Black earth? Why? What must I do?”
“Tear out the salamander’s heart. It is the fire that devours your forest.”
“Salamander?” Thym recoiled, her amber eyes narrowing. “I will burn.”
“I grant my breath to shield you, She-Wolf Thym. Kiss me and taste the cold of my heart.”
Thym approached; the queen’s dress shattered with each step. Yet the monarch did not stir as the werewolf drew close, until their lips met, and the Cold Queen exhaled her frost breath.
Barbed ice shredded Thym’s lungs. Instincts raging, her claws arched—ready to strike. Yet the woman within the beast chained her savage defence and accepted the goddess’ gift.
Thym withdrew. Her mane and fur now ice white, she felt powerful, resilient.
“Find the salamander in the black earth that burns,” the Cold Queen said. “Tear out its heart. Save your forest.”
Thym bowed low, then dashed from the palace on four white-frosted paws.
⟐
The wolf raced along a snowy ridge beneath the Cold Queen’s ice palace, nested in cloud atop the mountain’s peak. Ahead stretched three days’ travel—three days for her forest to burn to cinder and ash. She needed swiftness, so as the pale moon rose into starlit heavens, she climbed a rocky outcrop and yowled.
A breeze stirred. It grew stronger, whipping up ice crystals until it wailed a greeting. With eyes fixed on the saffron glow bleaching the horizon, Thym rode the wind that carried her aloft.
As the wolf drew closer to the fire blanketing her forest, the blaze roared. Battling fear, she peered through black smoke until her gaze found Eagle River—the water that would guide her to the salamander. Swiftly, the wind bore her towards it.
A surge of heat—the firestorm’s vanguard—struck the wind. The wolf tumbled, crashing through leaf and branch, the world a blur of black heat and ember. She landed heavily in a smoking heap of needle litter, and winded, rose. Peering into ruby light and shadow, she caught a musky, panicked scent. A buck, antler-crowned, leapt through pale smoke, his herd following. Their hooves churned earth; their terrified eyes flashed by. Then… silence.
The wolf leapt over mossy rocks and ducked beneath fallen deadwood as she raced towards the battlefront. The wind—reformed—wailed as it fought beside her, forcing back the blaze pursuing the fleeing beasts. Despite her ally, Thym’s courage waned. Tail bowed low, she cowered as fear demanded: Turn back. Leave this land. Surrender it to flame.
From deep within, the woman’s reason stirred: The Cold Queen’s breath is not yet spent. I shall kill the salamander. But as the firestorm’s tendrils blackened the shapeshifter’s frosted hide, doubt rose: I cannot reach the black earth that burns.
Doubt summoned terror; terror banished reason. Thym fled through blazing undergrowth and plunged over a ridge into the white froth of Eagle River.
⟐
Eagle River’s water glistened like rime across Thym’s coat. Through a gauntlet of boulders that sought to crack bone and drown her, the river had guided her. Now she stood upon the black earth that burns.
Peat, steaming and blood-veined, stretched before the shapeshifter. A collapsed pit revealed a subterranean inferno. At its edge she rose onto her hind legs and howled.
Hot coals shifted within the fire.
Again, Thym howled until a blazing reptile cloaked in acrid smoke rose from the pit to meet her challenge. She leapt back, avoiding its four grasping claws.
Slithering over the pit’s rim, the salamander rose on a serpent’s tail and flexed its claws. As the she-wolf gauged where best to tear into its cherry flesh and rip free the heart of the fire, the fiend tail-slapped the ground. A chasm opened, spouting flame.
Singed, Thym leapt clear, then landed on all fours. Ears pricked, she eyed her adversary. The fiend paused, calculating—wary of its icy prey. The forest guardian stood proud, letting the salamander see the glacial-blue tint of her underbelly. Again, the elemental raised its tail.
Earth cracked and fire erupted where Thym had stood. Landing before the salamander, she struck. Her claw met flesh, cutting deep—yet found no heart. Thrust back by the salamander, she shielded herself as magma sprayed from the wound she had inflicted, scorching her frost-white fur midnight blue.
Blistering malice poured from the salamander’s reptilian eyes as a flickering scimitar rose from each of its four hands. Again, it thumped the ground with its tail.
Thym leapt, avoiding the shifting earth. On landing, she faced the fiend’s charge—four burning blades weaving a web of death. Faith in the Cold Queen’s breath shielded her against fear and the scorching scimitars as she tore into the salamander’s viscous flesh.
Howling in pain, the she-wolf retreated. With terrified eyes, she looked upon her empty paw—aflame.
The salamander slithered towards its enemy. With maw cast wide, it revealed fangs tipped with magma and the fiery vortex beyond. The inferno rumbled, then blasted forth.
Thym’s eyes reflected the vermilion doom. Against the fiend’s scorching breath, she exhaled the last of the Cold Queen’s gift. Frost battled flame until flame retreated and frost engulfed the salamander—its cherry scales hardening to a paralysing crust.
Thym stepped between the salamander’s four rigid arms and speared its stony flesh. Finding no heart, she struck again—again.
Obsidian skin cracked and flaked as the salamander thawed. Free, it embraced the raging she-wolf, its fangs puncturing her flesh and injecting magma.
Thym, a naked woman wrapped in a scarlet death shroud, stood as the salamander fell. In her charred fingers beat a flaming heart. With a final howl she crushed the heart of the fire.