Breathe in the Embers

Part 6

Martin had never felt normal. He’d always been pretty decent athletically, for someone who didn’t play any sports. School was easy for him. He never understood the difficulties other students had, especially with math and literature. It had set him apart from a young age, everyone always aware that any given norm that applied to everyone, most likely did not apply to him. Everyone always knew he was a little different, and to Martin that really wasn’t a problem.

What he’d always resented was that he wasn’t different enough.

In a world where heroes could travel through electrical lines, manipulate physical objects with their minds, being good at math just didn’t seem to matter as much. When villains could manipulate shadows, or had amorphous bodies that were nigh indestructible, being able to run slightly faster or farther didn’t make a difference. Yes, he could become an engineer, or a scientist of some sort, but Martin had always thought that the superheroes made the biggest difference in the world. It could take the effort of thousands of people to construct a single building in a city, and a villain could destroy it in moments. And a hero could save it.

That resentment, that need to be among those few who could so shake the world, Lithuega had felt it burning in Martin since their pact was made. He loathed that he was just special enough to see how little it mattered. He would never want to be average of course, but there was just so much distance between him and the top! It was unreachable. Impossible. It was why he’d jumped at the chance she had offered, to shine brighter than any other.

Even if only for a moment.

It was why he’d made the pact he was sure would cost him everything. Yes, he’d worded it in a way that was intentionally ambiguous in a gamble to prolong their deal, but Martin had never truly believed it would help. He had been resigned to death. Even if no one ever knew what he had done, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the difference he made, in obscurity or in the spotlight, lives were still saved.

But now Lithuega knew just how very wrong Martin was.

He believed he didn’t have anything to set him apart, that made him a hero, yet she gripped his soul with all her might and could not budge it.

“Impossible!” she cried, reaching her other hand into his chest. She felt it, the insubstantial wisp of incredible energy that filled all mortals. It was right there! She pulled, twisted, desperate for that which was so close. Yearning for it. She needed to surround herself with the brilliant light of mortal essence!

It made her own hollow, empty shell feel at least a little warmer.

“What’s happening?” Martin whispered in disbelief, no strain showing on his face. It was infuriating to see, the sheer ease with which he held her at bay! Was he even trying? How could a mortal have the sheer will to overcome her, much less so easily? Finally, with a shriek of frustration, she released him.

“Martin Kumalo, I find you in breach of our contract!” she snarled, stepping back and pointing an accusing finger. “You have withheld payment, and refuse to accompany me to the Inferno to address your contestation! Your soul is forfeit!”

Martin had no idea what to think. He’d been ready to die. From the moment the demon appeared, her sweet offer too tempting to refuse, he’d known he would. What else could he do? Die alone in that river, knowing his friends would all soon be following him? No. Lithuega had offered him a single chance, and he’d taken it.

And yet she could not take what he owed.

He’d felt her impossible strength, the towering might of her will, and yet it had been so very easy to refuse her. She had reached out, gripped his soul, and tried to wrest it free. And he had denied her. That simply, a refusal to let go, and the battle was won. It was no contest of wills, or battle of minds. He’d decided to live, to keep his soul, to keep on going, and just like that all her strength meant nothing.

So he found it easy to smile. Easy to spread his hands to the side, invitingly. “Come and take it then.” he suggested.

Her face contorted in fury, Lithuega snarled as she threw herself forward. Martin exhaled, imagining that dark place where he’d been trapped. She’d shunted him aside, drawing his soul into her own shadow, ensuring his safety while she fulfilled her end of the bargain. He could feel their bond, feel the midnight cord stretching between them. He could sever it easily enough, he merely had to want it. But he didn’t.

Instead he gripped that thread as she leaped at him, tugging on it experimentally. It drew in, pulling the fog inside of her toward him, toward the shining cloud of light inside his chest. She had indeed fulfilled her end of the bargain, but not completely. Martin had told Lithuega she could have his soul if she saved everyone. It had been a deal, and though she tried to enforce an early end to it, Martin found he couldn’t begrudge her that. After all, she’d saved all his friends. So he gripped that thread tight, inhaled.

And pulled.