Hahvi has spent eight years in the dome with other physical talents. Her body is wrapped in a restrictor suit, but she keeps her mind free to dream of possibilities. She is given to the Citadel, and when she meets the dream master, her world and her options shift dramatically.
Rackon dreamed of a woman wreathed in flame, dancing across lava. This was the woman his people needed to help them save their city and the last of their civilization. Research pointed to Resicor, and after severe negotiations, she is handed over to them so that they can take on the trouble of her maintenance.
Released from the restriction, she is free to use her talent for the first time in her life, unfortunately, she has to pick her outlet carefully or she could kill them all.
The man that greeted her was made of stone or so it appeared. He wore a tight bodysuit with a flowing robe over it, looking attractive and formal at the same time.
She inclined her head. “I am.”
“Are you an elemental?”
“I suppose. I have an affinity for the heat of the ground beneath my feet.” She smiled, and her stomach fluttered. If she wasn’t what he needed, he might not take her along.
“You can call lava?”
“I can.” She remembered her audience. “I could. I did.”
“Then you are the one we need.” He nodded sharply, and the guard to his left lowered his weapon.
It seemed peculiar that they were taking orders from this dark grey alien with solid black eyes and hair a few shades lighter than his skin, but Hahvi didn’t complain when he shepherded her out and to a shuttle.
Haloor’s warning had given her time to adjust to the idea of leaving the dome, but she still kept looking back toward the city of Dathim and her people trapped within.
With a deep breath, she faced the shuttle and climbed inside, acknowledging that she couldn’t help her people yet, but there might be a way, one day.