Spasmodic, a world befitting of such description, tenebrous stygian shadows perpetually contending with a convulsive sun of scarlet, a luminosity bearing idiosyncratic disposition, cast by nought but a singular tremulous conflagration, yet, amidst such sovereign chaos paradoxically loomed an item ever virgin, unblemished and vestal. A brazier, elephantine in stature, progeny to Gemini stone, ever monochrome, eternally unlit.
Still, such an item was not the sole denizen to the wiles of the lambent realm, for it was from the ancestor of pure ivory that the anterior blazing warrior emanated. A beauty imperceptibly illuminated, her cardinal features refracting portrait of nought but acquiescent carmine, Fiamma, her mesmeric lips forevermore contorted, mangled into a countenance of petulant repugnance, an ill-disguised hatred scintillating amidst her twin gems of ruby. Had it been hours, mere minutes, the beauty knew not, the passing of time an insubstantial mortal concept to her sovereign soul. No clock ticked, nor did the sun blockaded by Gaia elucidate a remark. Fiamma was alone, isolated, a paramount discrimination anteriorly uncontested by the girl, yet now, her heart ached, her mind lay ridden with nought but notions of acrimonious vexation.
Vindictive vengefulness nourished by an exclusive visage, that of the heterochromatic boy, Eros, his smile, his hair, his presence, his everything, Fiamma longed for his attention, to preside amidst the same domain as him once more, yet, she had been prohibited, her figure incarcerated by the academy, primogenitor to their "Relationship". The girl's figure perpetually seethed, her consciousness incapable of converging upon her sole goal, the trial she had yet to subjugate, the insurmountable brazier. 'How! How am I meant to do this!' The girl inwardly raged, her figure lurching into a bout of barbaric animation, Fiamma's right-hand mercurial, casting innumerable flames, all of which indiscriminately bombarded the monochrome realm, their lives fleeting, instantaneously extinguished upon attaining companionship with the accursed, execrable masonry, mother to nought but petulant patches of singed earth.
She couldn't comprehend her assignment. The mere notion of creating a flame from such distance was nought but sacrilegious blasphemy, a feat that defied the verisimilitude cosmos before her. How many seconds, how many minutes, hours, days, and months had she spent obsessing over such apocryphal, hallucinatory phantasmic intent, and more importantly, how much longer would it continue to torture her, to steal the consecrated, hallowed moments otherwise conscripted to that of the mesmeric boy, her rapturous hero, her inextinguishable love. 'It isn't possible, it can't be, and yet, I doubt Enuma Esper Academy would keep me here if it wasn't…I hate it. I hate being here. I hate not being able to see him,' Fiamma pined, her figure absentmindedly nearing the impenetrable aperture, the sentinel inspecting her incarceration, a movement cordial to the leviathan gatekeeper, performed innumerable times by an enervated, languishing corpse.
Grime appeared bereft atop the wrought iron monument, expunged from the centre, coagulating solely amidst the item's wearied seams. A cultivated plain of argent awaited Fiamma, inveigled by heated, debilitated breaths, a bed upon which she would lay. A lambent warmth akin to that of a midsummer breeze cradled Fiamma's pestiferous person, vain in its attempt to mollify her plight, for the girl, despite her apparent exhaustion, sought solace not in rest, for Fiamma's twin gems of ruby adventured not to such suppositious, fictive land, instead, her figure arched, her ivory ears pressed against the item's blemished and begrimed stitching.
"Wh- o- *Bang* *Bang*" Abstracted throes, a chorus of calamity, such resonate reverberation once more impregnated the impassioned girl's twain mounds of flesh, muted and reticent in voice, hardly audible, yet, it wasn't such asunder ruination that enraptured Fiamma's mind, but a voice, one contiguous with the monolith, a discernible tone palatable amidst the tempestuous clamour. The tyrannical tonality of the domain's sole disciplinarian, her voice stern, quiescent to the voluminous, perverted world, audible only to Fiamma.
"Is…Boy…Fight?" The pedagogue stammered, myriad words massacred by the wrought metal sentinel, yet, despite the muffled quiescence of the soliloquy, Fiamma's mind instinctually obsessed, heeding every syllable expelled from the teacher's lips. Ceaseless tremors, innumerable palpitations, the crimson-haired beauty's eyes of ostentatious conflagrant ruby eternally quaked, darkened, a void of self-imposed nugatory despair.
'Boy…fight, is Eros still fighting Christiaan? Is he ok? What's going on,' Fiamma inwardly questioned, her words precipitating notions of utmost despondency while her visage appeared tensed, forced against the door in a vain, barbaric manner as though the beauty was attempting to merge with the argent flesh, uncaring, dispassionate to the blackened, foetid putrescence that sullied her virginal skin. She desired more, longed to ascertain such verboten, taboo knowledge.
"Is…*Badum*...Gabriella… *Badum*... Why… *Badum*... Fiamma's… *Badum* attendant…fight *Badum* *Badum* her" The sovereign disciplinarian continued, her incoherent, discontinuous blathering intermittently interrupted by Fiamma's blaring heart, an anterior ensemble that appeared quiescent, uttering neither cry of anguish nor hum of delight.
Silence, amidst the blackened realm, devoid of flame, presided nought but matriarchal noiselessness. The walls dared not creak, and the wind failed to howl. At that moment, the space appeared bereft of life, a land forgotten by the gods, a paradoxical notion, for in but the passing of a second would it be filled with innumerable howels of impassioned, melodramatic acrimony. "Eros…He's…He's fighting Gabriella…That…THAT FUCKING BITCH! WHY?! WHY?! WHY?! WHY?! WHY IS THE ACADEMY ALLOWING THAT IMPUDENT BATTLE WHORE TO EVEN SPEAK TO MY DARLING EROS! I'LL KILL HER! IF SHE SO MUCH AS TAINT'S HIS DEIFIC SKIN, SHE'LL BE DEAD!" Fiamma howled, the realm antecedently besmirched by seed of stygian now illuminated by a blazing sun of scarlet. She had to escape.
Antecedent thoughts formerly festering with notions of bereaved melancholy stirred into a tempestuous cyclone of ardent furore. Fiamma's figure lurched, her mind deprived of blood with petulant spots clouding the epicentre of her view illuminated by the conflagrant cardinal blaze. Eyes of ruby monstrously swirled, a destitute vortex composed of nought but perverted, sacrilegious longing, a stygian brew dispossessed of colour.
Luridly did they befall the carmine realm, indifferent to the evanescent luminosity perpetually forced into a subservient dance of unbridled resentment. Fiamma gazed upon but one object, the singular contender that loomed amidst the reddened realm, the brazier, indifferent, unperturbed by the beauty's fervid bellow it stood, dormant, eternally quiescence, cretinous to its foretold arousal.
Innumerable thoughts inundated Fiamma's despondent, morose mind, their every notion Gemini to flickering sparks, insecure flames destined for instantaneous death, yet, it was amidst such chthonic demise that the girl perceived a query, 'What causes the flames?' Fiamma inwardly questioned, for there was no kindling atop her palms craft of ivory, no progenitor spark if she so wished, but sovereign nothingness, a nugatory void that yearned for an apocryphal life, a zoetic carapace her mind absentmindedly granted.
'Ah~, so that's it,' Fiamma inwardly seethed, her spirit perceiving a sight long since forgotten, one heretofore instinctual, myriad flames, spectral, ethereal, indiscernible to the world spasmodically littered the realm, eternally moving, abject, mere thralls to the crimson haired beauty's eternal command, with but a soundless utterance did they gather, possessing the land atop her palm whereupon they blossomed into a raucous ostentatious blaze. 'Eros, you need not fret any longer. I'm coming to save you,' Fiamma inwardly purred, her ruby eyes scintillating with a transparent flame, one reflecting a land of sanguine crimson.
*FWOOM* With but an indifferent wave, the brazier, formerly docile, dormant, tranquil amidst its eternal slumber, erupted into a prodigious conflagration. Fiamma had accomplished her goal, the trial set forth by the academy. Now she needs merely to rescue her beloved, a latter desire ordained to go unfulfilled.
Her task did not go unobserved, for as the monumental bulwark of iron lay waste to the land of light, a new shadow, one antecedently enshrouded by myriad mystery, walked the scarlet realm, with steps unheard and face unseen.
All that would leave through the iron gatekeeper's grace was nought but expunged heat.