"So… you finally used "Ember Pulse" your first fire spell," he murmured, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.
Aanha sat frozen, chest heaving. He hadn't been surprised. He had known.
Aanha: [gasped, horrified, staring at her own trembling hand.] "No… no, this can't—this can't be me!"
When the haze cleared, Sai stood tall between her and the beast, droplets dripping from his fingers. He glanced back at her, calm yet intense, his eyes carrying something that looked suspiciously like relief.
Aanha trembled. The beast snarled again, but she barely heard it. Her eyes were locked on Sai. He had known all along.
The beast recovered quickly, shaking shards of glass from its fur before letting out a guttural roar. It crouched low, ready to pounce.
Aanha's heart hammered. Her hand still burned, tingling with the strange energy she had unleashed.
Aanha: I… I can't— she stammered, panic flooding her.
Sai: You can, cut her off, his voice steady as steel. "Focus."
The creature lunged. Aanha's body tensed, and again fire burst from her palm—this time larger, hotter, wild arcs leaping out in all directions. The blaze caught the beast's side, searing its fur, but it also licked dangerously close to the curtains, setting the edges aflame.
Aanha: No! I can't control it! [cried, stumbling back.]
Sai: "Surge steps" moved in behind her, his presence firm and grounding. Water surged from his hand, curling around hers, quenching the stray flames before they spread further. Steam hissed violently, wrapping them both in a shroud.
Sai: Don't fight it, [near her ear, his voice low but urgent.] The more you fear it, the wilder it gets. Trust the flame. Trust yourself. "ember pulse" is a short-range burst of heat that pushes enemies back. It's simple, reactive, and tied to emotion.
The beast snarled, circling, its glowing eyes darting between them. Aanha's knees shook, but she lifted her hand again, heat gathering at her fingertips. This time, she tried to breathe with it—slow, steady. The flame flickered into life, smaller but sharper, taking shape like a spear of fire.
Sai: That's it. Now… aim.
The beast leapt.
Aanha:"ember pulse" her hand thrust forward almost on instinct, the flame spear shooting out and striking the creature in the chest. It howled, crashing against the wall in a flurry of sparks before crumbling into black smoke that dissolved into the night.
Silence fell.
Aanha dropped to her knees, gasping for air, her hand still trembling. The fire had vanished, but its warmth still pulsed in her veins, wild and terrifying.
Sai crouched beside her, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. His calm eyes met hers, and though his tone carried the weight of certainty, there was also something gentler beneath it.
Sai: See? [quietly]. You're stronger than you think.
But Aanha shook her head, her voice barely a whisper.
Aanha: That… that came from me. I almost burned everything… including you. If I can't control this… I'll burn everything. What if I hurt someone, if I hurt you?...
Sai: [hand lingered, firm and reassuring] If you lose control, I'll be here to stop you. Like I just did. I'll be the water that keeps you in balance. You can't run from this anymore. And you're not facing it alone.
Aanha blinked at him, startled by the certainty in his tone. The words carried no hesitation—like he'd already accepted it long before she even knew.
Aanha: Why… why aren't you scared of me?
Sai's lips curved faintly, the same half-smile that always made her unsure whether he was teasing or dead serious.
Sai: Because I know you better than you know yourself.
The silence between them stretched, heavy with words neither spoke. Aanha's chest still heaved, her mind tangled in fear and questions—What was that fire? How did Sai know? Why wasn't he afraid of me?
Then the sharp chime of the old clock on the wall rang out. Eight times.
Aanha froze. Her mom would be home soon, and she was still at Granny's house—on the upper side of the hill, nearly half an hour away by foot. Panic surged through her chest.
Aanha: If I don't get home in time…how will I even explain this? and… and my Mumma will be back anytime. I… I can't run that fast.
Sai's eyes followed her panicked movements, calm but alert.
Sai: [lips curved faintly] Then we'll just make it faster.
Before she could protest, he swept his hand in a sharp, practiced motion. "whisper steps" the air around them whipped into a sudden gust, catching Aanha's hair and clothes. She blinked in surprise.
Aanha: What… what are you doing?!
Sai: You're not walking [his voice calm, almost teasing]. Hold on.
He gestured again, and a controlled current of wind lifted them slightly off the ground. The wind wrapped around them like a protective cocoon, propelling them forward faster than her legs could ever manage. Trees blurred past, the cool night air whipping against her face.
Aanha clutched Sai's coat instinctively, heart racing—not from fear, but from the sheer thrill of moving like this. The hill seemed to shrink beneath them, the path to her home rapidly closing the distance.
Within just a minute, the familiar sight of her neighbourhood appeared ahead. Sai slowed the wind gradually, setting her down gently near the edge of the path to her house.
Aanha: You… you just… [she stammered, staring at him in awe and disbelief.]
Sai: Saved you in time, said simply, and vanished in next flicker of her eyes toward the darkened path that led up the hill.
Aanha stood frozen for a moment, her heart still racing from the whirlwind outside. Then, snapping out of it, she hurried inside and shut the door.
Just as she was trying to steady her breath, the doorbell rang.
Her stomach dropped. She opened it carefully—and there was her mom, standing at the doorstep.
The moment their eyes met, Aanha felt exposed. Her mom's gaze lingered, sharp and knowing.
Mom: Aanha… are you sweating? Do you have a fever again?
Aanha: Um—no, Mom. I'm fine.
Without waiting for an answer, Aanha rushed to the kitchen. She filled a glass with water, trying to calm her shaky hands before returning. But when she passed the glass, her mom's eyes narrowed.
Mom: Aanha! What happened to your hand?! Her voice sharpened with concern. How did you get burned?
Aanha flinched, pulling her hand back instinctively.
Aanha: Uh—it's nothing, I was just… making coffee, and… it spilled, that's all. [She hid her hand behind her back, avoiding her mother's eyes.]
Mom (doctor-tone): This isn't just a small burn, Aanha. The blistering pattern… it doesn't look like spilled coffee at all. Did you touch something hot directly?
Aanha's throat went dry. Her mom's clinical tone was the one she used with patients—the one that never missed details.
Aanha: I—uh—it was the kettle… I didn't notice…
Her mom sighed, pulling the first-aid box from the cupboard with practiced ease. She cleaned the burn carefully, wrapping it in fresh gauze.
(after bandaging Aanha's hand.)
Her mom adjusted the gauze, frowning slightly as she examined the burn.
Mom (muttering to herself): …Strange. The edges don't look like a typical scald… more like heat exposure without direct contact.
Aanha's heart skipped.But she just forced a small laugh.
Aanha: Guess I'm clumsy even in the kitchen.
Her mom gave her a long look—the kind she gave patients who weren't telling the full story. But instead of pressing, she only kissed Aanha's forehead.
Mom: We'll check it tomorrow, it looks worse. You have to be careful, Aanha. I've told you so many times…
Aanha nodded quickly, forcing a small smile. But her stomach twisted. If her mom was already suspicious, how much longer could she keep lying?
But inside, her mind was spinning. The burn on her hand wasn't from coffee, wasn't from hot kettle. It was from that sudden fire—the fire that came from her.
Dinner passed quietly. Her mom chatted about her day, about the market, about the little things Aanha usually half-listened to but secretly loved. Tonight, though, Aanha barely heard a word. Every time her mom glanced her way, she made sure to hide her burned hand under the table or behind her sleeve.
Later, when the dishes were done and the lights were dimmed, Aanha curled up in her bed. The house had settled into its usual night time silence, broken only by the ticking of the clock.
But her mind refused to rest.
She held up her bandaged right hand with another, staring at it in the pale moonlight filtering through her window. The skin still stung.
Because of fire.
Her fire.
The memory played on a loop—the sudden crash, the flare bursting from her palm, Sai's calm voice as he stopped the blaze with water. The way he had looked at her, not with shock, but with certainty. As if he had expected it.
Aanha's stomach tightened. Who am I really? And why does Sai know more than I do?