But then her gaze landed on Ferma.
My Ferma.
The Yumi smiled. “Keep your balance now.”
Elena blinked.The brightest light.That was Ferma’s smile, the one she gave now. It was her embrace, warm and strong, and in it, Elena knew she was safe. It was the hope in Ferma’s eyes as she watched her, and it washed over Elena, rooted her, as if Ferma’s belief alone rid her of her inadequacies. Reminded her that she was strong. That she was enough.
The flame grew.
She called upon her childhood memories—the times when she hid in the garden and Ferma pretended to not already know where Elena was. Elena would watch her from underneath the banyan leaves, holding her breath. And then Ferma would pop up behind her, scaring her into a fit of giggles. She would always find her.
She always knew where to look.
The flame rose in response.
Elena curled a finger. The flame bowed.
Still thinking of Ferma, Elena whirled and transitioned into the next pose. She spread out her feet, held up her arm as if reaching for the stars.
The Spider.
Like the desert spider, the fire sees all, the scroll said.
She envisioned the ancient Desert Spider warriors, and she pictured Ferma in their ranks. Tall and proud, her hair dancing in the wind.
“That’s it,” Ferma whispered.
Elena bowed her head and swept up her leg, her foot touching the back of her head.
The Tree.
Fire is steadfast and eternal. Root yourself in its heat and the truth it carries.
She thought of the desert on a summer day. How heat shimmered over the dunes in golden waves; how she hopped over hot stones in the courtyard to get to the covered path. Heat could be soft as a mother’s kiss, as mean as the sun’s glare. It operated in dualities, yet Elena rose to greet it like a flower. She drank it in, opened her heart, and let it blossom.
The flame hissed and grew.
She unwound her leg, opened her arms, and spun as the flame elongated and flickered. She came to a stop and rose on her toes, wrapping her arms around her body and twisting into the Snake.
There are those who fear fire, and there are those who learn to possess it and make it theirs, the scroll said.
Her mother had thrown herself into the Eternal Fire because she loved it. Her father held fire because he needed it. But Elena? What would she do? She balanced on her toes, her eyes trained on the flame as it danced.
Suddenly, the flame began to crawl out of the pit. Its tip flickered, tasting the air.
“Elena,” Ferma warned. “Fall back.”
In the mirrors, Elena saw the flame rise. She thrust her hands up, one palm out, the other curled into a fist, and beckoned for the flame. It listened. It shot straight into her fist, making Ferma jump back, but Elena cupped the flame in her hands, holding it steady.
“Holy Bird Above,” Ferma whispered.
Elena managed a smile even as the small blaze peeled the skin of her palms. Ferma noticed the smoke, her eyes widening.
“Let it go,” she said.
But the flame only strengthened, and her hands began to throb. “I can’t,” Elena whispered.
“Elena,” the Yumi began.
