Akari Awakens

The first thing she felt was an endless, bone-deep cold, the kind that gnawed at the marrow. It seeped into her awareness like needles, sharp and endless, as if the whole world were made of ice. Every breath she thought she took felt like inhaling shards of glass, tiny slivers cutting against something she could no longer name.

For a moment she thought she was still asleep - still buried under blankets, teeth chattering as she tried to will herself warm this cold winter. That was the last thing she remembered: pulling her quilt tighter, the air in her room so cold she could see her own breath. She had told herself she would fall asleep quickly so that she would wake up in the morning to dim sunlight. Her mother would then come home after her night shift right when Akari would be finished making breakfast.

Her thoughts drifted. The cold pressed harder, and she sank into it, hazy and numb. It had to be a dream. Nothing else made sense. Her body felt heavy one moment, weightless the next. Sometimes it felt like she was sinking through layers of ice, other times like she was floating in a bath so hot it stole her breath. Strange colors swirled in the dark behind her eyelids, pale blues and white sparks, and she almost imagined she could hear the rattle of wind-chimes, or maybe just her teeth. She reached out, or thought she did, and felt nothing but the echo of movement she no longer possessed.

Better to sleep through a strange dream than try to solve why she was shivering so badly. Images drifted past: the smell of warm rice from her mother’s kitchen, the weight of her old schoolbag on her shoulders, and the hum of her phone charging by her bed. For a fleeting moment, she could almost feel the pull of gravity on her body, the sensation of sheets brushing against her skin, but it vanished as suddenly as it came.

...

Time slipped. Maybe minutes, maybe hours. She floated in and out, half-conscious, lulled by a steady sway. Sometimes she thought she heard footsteps crunching beneath her, other times the whistling moan of the storm. Occasionally, she caught glimpses of color and motion behind her closed eyelids - faint impressions of shapes and shadows. She told herself that when she woke up from this weird dream, her body would be back where it belonged. This was just her brain playing tricks while she slept through the cold.

Then, a beastly scream pierced the fog. A sharp, metallic clash. A grunt. The rapid crunch of snow churned steps. Her eyes snapped open.

Glass. Nothing but a reflective cage around her. And beyond it - snow, endless and furious. She tried to sit up, but nothing moved. Her arms and legs - gone! She looked down, and only then realized she wasn’t looking down at all. She was a little orange-gold flame clinging to a wick.

Her mind screeched to a halt. People didn’t wake up as fire. She had expected bedhead and pajamas, not a body that crackled and sputtered like a cheap stove lighter. Panic jolted through her, every flicker like a fake heartbeat. She wobbled against the glass, nearly shrieking when the flame stretched and snapped back like it had a mind of its own.

The absurdity of it hit so hard she almost laughed - except laughter required a mouth she no longer had.

Her thoughts tumbled over themselves in disbelief. How could she exist without flesh or bone? Where were her fingers, her heartbeat, and her limbs? She felt untethered and floaty, adrift in this new, impossible form.

The snow howled, and she saw him: a young man, tall and rigid, scarf drawn high over his face. His single visible eye burned with focus. All she knew was that he held the lantern, and inside the device, she was alive.

The storm was merciless. White snow rushed past, clawing at him, trying to bury him where he stood. He pressed forward, boots sinking deep, shoulders hunched against the gale. Around them, snarls split the night. Black shapes tore free of the drifts, too many to count. His blade swung, silver flashing in the storm, each strike sharp and desperate.

The lantern jolted with every clash. She felt it through her flame-body, a vibration that rattled her core. He was fighting but was slowing down. Each breath was ragged. The monsters closed in, circling tighter. One claw scraped the glass, screeching across her tiny world. Her flame flared as she panicked.

She wanted to scream, to warn him, to run. But she could do none of it. She had no voice, no body - just heat and fear, trembling with every pulse of the fight.

Then, something pulsed inside her. Heat surged from her center, fierce and unstoppable. It swelled, filling every corner of her tiny being, until it tore outward. Fire burst through the cracks of the lantern, bright and alive. The blaze devoured one monster whole, leaving only curling black smoke. The others shrank back, their snarls devolved into whimpers.

Akari gasped. She had a voice! Thin and trembling, but hers.

“Where… am I? Are you… alright?”

The young man stared at her as if she was a miracle he did not believe. His single eye widened, reflecting her small and wispy form.

Akari’s flame fluttered, nervous yet insistent. She wanted to say more, to cling to this newborn connection. She burned a little brighter, her voice louder than the crackling of her fire.

“My name’s… Akari! And… you?”

He hesitated, blade still trembling at his side. The storm raged on, snow piling high around his knees. Finally, at last, he answered.

“Noel.”

Her flame flickered softly, like a heartbeat finding rhythm in the chaos, the first small proof that even in this impossible form, she was alive.

The sound of it filled her with warmth that even the cold could not reach. In the endless white, in the storm that threatened to swallow them both, she felt it clearly: their lives had been tied together in this very instance of time.