Chapter Text
“I feel like I’ve forgotten something,” Landon declares.
Dr. Saltzman looks up from the papers he was busy grading to stare at the teenager standing in his doorway, chest heaving as if he’d run all the way from his dorm to get here. After a few moments of heavy silence wherein it becomes clear that Landon is waiting for a response, Alaric sit up straight up and exhales loudly through his nose.
“And you barged into my office to tell me this why, exactly?” He asks, sending the boy a slightly annoyed glare. At this, Landon flushes and lowers his gaze to the floor.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He looks torn, as if he’s deciding whether to flee and forget this ever happened, or stay and say what’s on his mind.
Alaric decides to make the decision for him, steepling his fingers as he leans back in his chair. “Come in, Landon,” he says, making an effort to gentle his tone. “Until we know more about the powers of a Phoenix, we should take any… strong emotions you may have seriously. They may be premonitions. Now, tell me why you’re so worked up?”
Seemingly having gained back his confidence, Landon quickly closes the door behind him and takes a seat across from Alaric.
“Like I said,” he repeats, “I’m forgetting something. Something important.”
Dr. Saltzman nods, taking the chance to examine Landon as he formulates a response. The boy seems agitated, his fingers drumming restlessly on his thigh, as his eyes dart around the room, like it might reveal the memory he seeks if he just looks hard enough. His shoulders are tense and his back is hunched. His brow seems permanently furrowed, making him look older than he really is.
Alaric sighs.
“What is it that you think you forgot?” he asks, wondering if Phoenixes could sense danger. If that were true, maybe Landon hadn’t really forgotten anything, but just didn’t understand such sudden and intense feelings for what they really were—a warning.
Alaric is so lost in developing his theory, he doesn’t notice Landon staring at him annoyance and slight disbelief.
“If knew that, I wouldn’t be here, now would I?” The teen sasses, his frustration making itself known. When his headmaster doesn’t respond, Landon scowls and stands abruptly, almost knocking his chair over. “Fine!” He shouts, his irritation giving way to anger. He feels the chasm left in him from whatever he has forgotten begin to fill with fire, fire that pushes against his skin, burning with rage and demanding to be set free from the confines of this human body—
Landon gasps and lurches forward, grabbing Dr. Saltzman’s desk to keep himself upright. The heat that was bubbling just under his skin is fading fast, leaving him shivering and his teeth chattering. His knees feel weak, and he lowers himself into his abandoned chair with great effort. Dr. Saltzman is staring at him, a mix of awe and poorly concealed fear on his face.
“I’m sorry—”
“You were glowing—”
They both cut off, staring apprehensively at each other.
“I’m sorry,” Landon says again, taking Dr. Saltzman’s silence for permission to continue. “I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never gotten angry like that before. I felt like I was going to explode—like, literally.”
“It’s okay, Landon. You’re not the first teenager to explode on me. Besides, I’m more concerned with the fact that you were glowing.”
“I was what?” Landon asks incredulously.
“You were glowing Landon. I thought you were about to burst into flames.”
No, Landon thinks. No, that can’t be true.
And yet, deep down, in that chasm of something lost and not yet found, he knows the truth.
“You’re a Phoenix, Landon,” a voice that is intimately familiar yet unrecognizable tells him. “You were made to burn.”
Landon gets to his feet and rushes out of Dr. Saltzman’s office, feeling a sense of deep longing overcome him. He runs through the halls, trying desperately to keep his tears at bay. His vision blurs as he takes a left, leaving the crowded hallway for one that is practically deserted. Out of sight, Landon leans heavily on the wall and retches, spit and tears and stomach acid staining the hardwood floors. Shaking, his knees give out and he falls, choking back sobs—it feels like his heart has been ripped out.
“Landon? Are you alright?”
The voice startles him, and Landon’s head snaps up, green eyes wide with fear. Josie Saltzman is staring at him in concern, her books clutched to her chest tightly, almost like a shield.
“Fine,” Landon hiccups, his voice wet. “Go away. Please.”
Josie hesitates, worried and confused and a little bit afraid. “I…” she starts, unsure. But then she thinks about how Landon never talks to people, how he’s always holed up in his room. Rafael was Landon’s only friend, and ever since he disappeared, Landon has been utterly alone.
The thought of Rafael stings. They’d had something, once, or at least she thinks they did. But then he’d slept with her sister, and not long after, vanished. Her feelings for the lost boy are confusing.
Shaking herself from her musings, Josie makes up her mind and sits down next to Landon, away from the suspicious stain on the other side of him. “Sorry, but I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s causing you to sob your heart out in the middle of the hallway,” she states, chin lifting defiantly.
Landon glares at her, but it’s a weak protest and they both know it. Josie rolls her eyes and glares right back, one eyebrow raised expectantly.
After a moment, Landon looks away, unable to meet her gaze any longer.
“I feel like part of me is missing,” he tells her, staring wistfully down the corridor. “There’s a pit in my chest where my heart should be, and it hurts.”
Josie frowns, recalling how lost she’s felt for the last month. She’d been attributing it to Penelope moving away, but maybe…
No, she thinks firmly. I feel lost because of Penelope, and Landon feels empty because of Rafael. That’s all.
The moment passes, and Landon stands, barely glancing down at her as he does.
“Bye, Josie. See you later,” he says, already walking away.
Josie watches as he disappears around the corner, a feeling of foreboding making her stomach twist.
Just maybe...