False Gods | The Prime Archives #3 ✓

eighteen

"Concentrate, Xiomara!" Oscar shouted from across the overgrown field he and the girl were standing in.

The young pyrokinetic was stood a few yards away, her small face contorted as she focused on the task at hand. Her hands were outstretched with red flames rolling off her fingertips. They dripped onto the tall grass below her, quickly reducing the greenery to ash.

If he didn't intervene, she would burn down the entire park.

Blowing air out of his nose, he stomped up to her and ordered her to stop. Once she ceased her flames, he held his hands over the fires slithering through the glass like snakes. They snapped their heads at him, their fiery tongues flicking in the air. He crackled his knuckles and closed his eyes.

He siphoned the flames into his palms, rescuing the field from their wrath. Warmth spread up his arms until it settled in his chest. Absorbing fire was one of the only times he felt a temperature change within himself. He didn't suffer from fevers when he got sick and the sun outside barely did anything for his skin.

Eating fire—as he liked to call it—was his only source of warmth.

Exhaling deeply, he finished absorbing Xiomara's flames. Once they were all gone, he dropped his hands and opened his eyes. He gave the girl a disappointed shake of his head.

"Show off," she grumbled.

"I thought I told you to concentrate."

"I was!"

"Obviously not."

The two of them had been training in the abandoned park in the lot behind Trinity Mission. He would've rathered a more secure and discreet location, but Los Angeles was kind of short on those. The park's walls were boarded up and overgrown with leaves, blocking off any view toward the street. Tall, leafy trees shrouded them from anyone who might have wanted to take a peek inside. There were worse places for them to train. He just hoped no one could see them.

For the past thirty minutes, Oscar had Xiomara practicing turning her fire into a steady stream. As of now, she was only able to dispel her flames in sporadic, yet powerful, spurts that lacked any sort of control. If they were going to face off against Atlas and the Jaegers, she was going to need to learn how to control her abilities.

She was a wildfire. A flame that, if left unchecked, could burn down everything.

He didn't need her to be an expert pyrokinetic—just good enough to hold her own in a fight.

Though, he wasn't sure how long that would take. He wasn't even sure if he had what it took to teach her. He certainly didn't have the patience for it. Granted, it was only their first session, but being a mentor was new to him. He never had one back at The Acropolis. Sure, the scientists and agents did their best to train him but none of them could truly give him the helped he needed. He was the world's first pyrokinetic. There was no precedent for the type of assistance he needed.

He had nothing to base his teaching style on. There wasn't a guide or tutorial online he could follow. And it wasn't like he had fond memories of his teachers from high school.

If he wanted to successfully train Xiomara, he was going to have to figure it out himself.

"I can't do it," Xiomara's voice was full of shame. Her lips were wound tightly together and a vein in her temple pulsed violently.

"Not with that attitude." He sighed. "Look, let's try something else. Something easier." He took a few steps backward and held his arms out. "Throw a fireball at me."

Even from where he was standing, he could see her rolling her eyes at him. Scowling, she dropped her hands and turned her back to him. She hung her head and stuffed her fists into the pockets of the black overalls Sister Maria gave her to wear.