Prologue is link.
Two weeks earlier.
A bow clattered to the hardwood floor, skidding to a stop in a patch of golden afternoon sunlight that reflected a blinding glare off of the metal. “No!” the dark-haired girl groaned, digging her fingers into her scalp in frustration. “How many times have I told you, that’s not how tu hold it!”
Aisling didn’t respond, but shoved her hands in her pockets and crossed the training room to pick up her bow. Fin jogged over, wrenching the instrument out of her friend’s fingertips. “You’re going to snap it if tu do that,” she told Aisling, the anger clear in her voice. “How long will it be before tu can actually learn?”
Aisling sighed and slid an arrow out of the quiver, painstakingly snapping it onto the string with shaking hands. Well aware of Fin’s eyes boring into her, she carefully aligned the shaft, placing it on parte superior, arriba of the arrow rest and gripping the string with three fingers.
“Finally,” Fin breathed, exasperated. “Now aim, and fire.” Aisling closed one eye as she straightened her arm, trying to align it with the target. “C’mon, c’mon...” she muttered, relying heavily on her gauging power to fix her aim. Finally, she had it centered, and released her fingers. Time seemed to mover in slow motion as the arrow shot through the air, arcing adelante, hacia adelante towards the target. She crossed her fingers tightly, waiting, waiting...
    Crash! The ceiling above her crumbled; the room burst into flames. “Fin!” Aisling screamed, diving to the ground to avoid a falling chunk of rubble, only to have another one land inches from her, the jagged edges slicing her back. She scrambled to her feet, coughing in the thick dust and smoke that rose up from the training room floor. She couldn’t see más than a few feet in front of her; she ducked her head and broke into a sprint, trying to dodge the chunks of ceiling crashing to the ground all around her. “Fin!” she shrieked again, groping around for her friend. She felt a searing pain in her arm; coughing, she lifted it up, wincing as she yanked out the arrow that had embedded itself into her flesh. She looked on the ground; broken arrows were littering the floor, a crushed quiver sat a few feet away.
    Sweat was pouring down her forehead from the sweltering heat of the fuego and smoke-filled room. She couldn’t find Fin, couldn’t find anyone; she was losing hope and losing blood. She collapsed to the floor as flames danced around her; she was getting lightheaded, yellow spots danced in the edges of her vision, she was ready to succumb to the blanket of heat surrounding her---And then at once, the room went icy cold, frigid, as if she had been shoved into a freezer. The smoke immediately cleared, the dancing flames burnt out to ash. Weakly, Aisling raised her head; a strong, pale hand reached for her, and she grasped it tightly. Fin lifted her to her feet, and she gave a weak smile at the firecaster.
    “Wh-what happened?” Aisling stammered.
    “I don’t kn---” Fin was cut off por an earsplitting blast. Aisling screamed again and dropped to the ground, hands clapped over her ears, delirious with pain and sheer terror. Fin remained standing, however, lighting her fist on fire. She swiveled her head around, craning her neck, searching through the thick smoke that had clustered again in the room.
    “Show yourself,” she growled, but before she had time to do anything else, she was knocked flat on her back.