Book One – Chapter 2

After the darkness came the cold.

It started with a tremor. Yves felt it in the air and through everything below, through the full depth of the crater. The land shifted, not under wind or weight, but with the failing fire. What moments before had been a churning basin of white flame an raging winds deflated into nothing. In one long sigh, the scorching heat withdrew from the world, as though something buried and colossal had finally exhausted its last breath.

It was one singular, peaceful breath. For that one impossible moment, the change carried only relief. The heat lifted from Yves’ sun-bleached face. The ache behind his eyes softened. His jaw unclenched. For weeks, every muscle in his body had braced itself against the desert, but now, the tension unwound from his shoulders, his arms slacked at his sides, and even the cramping in his fingers eased. The air entered him differently. He drew a slow breath, and for the first time since crossing into the deeper desert it did not scrape through him like ground glass, bitter and burnt beyond use. He drew another, daring it deeper, and for the first time in forever, he felt his lungs open and fill. It felt good. So, so good, overwhelming in the sheer simplicity of the act.

             It was soothing.

        It was a second

                           of sheer

                             bliss.