Frost Flare: the Pulse of Autumn

[Delahada]

The following story ties into The Pulse of Autumn storyline, and branches off from Chapter 2 of “Lights Out” on Twilight Isle.
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What ... is ... happening?

Frost Flare: Chapter 1

FireStar had lost track of time. Ever since that miserable wretch of a creature had won them away from their last holder, they had been plunged into darkness. Shoved into a bottomless sack and cinched shut, the fabric enchanted and not the least bit flammable.

Their siblings had warned them about how frustrating this one was. How resistant.

He left me exposed and alone, both times. Had the audacity to tell me to shut up and behave myself! Some vile creature swallowed me the first time! The second time I became a chew toy to a baby dragon! MoonBeryl had lamented. Little else about her time at Matadero could be recalled.

I, too, was left alone, recalled ShadoWeaver. In the sunlight, of all places. Thankfully nothing ate or chewed on me. Though he never used me personally, his familiar still carries the weight of my essence, which he uses regularly in place of his own magic in the rings. His will is strong.

Very strong, agreed PathFinder. I could not tempt him either, but his servant hoarded me well. We have an understanding. Two of his creatures were given life by my power, at the height of his season.

At the height of his season. This was it, wasn't it? Even through the smothering fabric of the magical pouch holding them, FireStar could feel it. There was a pressurized pulse quivering through the air. It rippled all the way through enchanted fibers and shook the Opal to their core.

They could hear the siren song of the Tower Key that they were most in tune with. This was their moment. They could escape!

Autumn had come.

The energy was cold, something that IceDancer would have favored more, but she knew nothing of the man who imprisoned and ignored Opals. Only that he had tried to win her many times. She was elusive.

The fae lord's magic was frigid, and destructive. It worked to unravel and undo the binding cloth that had kept FireStar in the dark and the quiet for, what they came to realize, had been many very long months. They could only just reach back out into the world and speak again. Finally.

Yes. Yes! Freedom at last! Let me out, let me out!

The Opal heard a groan and a tsk, was just able to sense Salvador rubbing at his temple in annoyance. Cold fingers reached into the pocket of a leather coat, grasped the withering bag of holding, and drew it into the waning light of the Isle. With only a scrap of enchanted fabric left between them, he held FireStar balanced in the palm of his hand and scowled at them.

"All you rocks are the same," the man growled.

There was a flash of light in his rust-colored irises, shortly before his eyes narrowed. He lifted his empty hand to point sternly at the Opal. He seethed the next words as FireStar started to steam and boil angrily.

"Quit..."

Thin threads of red ice sprouted from Salvador's skin.

"...trying..."

The bloody ribbons of ice bent up and around the Opal.

"...to get..."

The frost crisscrossed and weaved itself together.

"...into..."

They pinched off at the top, creating woven egg.

"...my head."

Figuratively, FireStar flung themself at their newly crafted bars, hissing and spitting in a fury. How dare this vile lordling do this to them! The Opal shouted threats that Salvador just could not hear. His mind was too well shielded from intrusion. No one could get in unless he let them. FireStar could sense the repulsive static.

"The bag was my fault. Oops."

What remained of it crumbled to dust in Salvador's palm, but the crystalline latticework egg remained. FireStar was nestled in its center, held tight by a few thin bands of the frozen blood. They practically vibrated with fury, causing the prison to tinkle and chime.

"So annoying," Salvador commented absently. "You need to go away now."

Don't you dare! Let me out, let me out!

But Salvador did not hear them. Even if he had, would he have listened?

Quite possibly the Opal's shouts were cut off mid sentence, but who was around to hear and know? The echo of its outrage might have rippled through the Ember Wake, reaching as far as a scream could travel.

One second FireStar, in their frozen cage, was nestled in the palm of the Autumn lord's hand, where he sat atop a sleeping volcano.

In the next ... the Opal was simply gone.