Kael's scream was swallowed by the night.
The alley glowed with unnatural fire, black and twisting, eating away at lantern light and shadows alike. The three attackers writhed on the ground, their faces pale with terror as the flames licked toward them, yet the fire gave no heat, no smoke. It devoured only light and breath, leaving the cobblestones cracked and cold.
Kael clutched at his chest, the sigil searing against his skin. His heart thundered in his ears, each beat like a hammer on stone.
What… what is this?
The attackers scrambled away, stumbling into the dark, their voices cracking with panic.
"Monster!" one shouted.
"He's cursed!" another screamed.
Their footsteps faded, leaving only Kael and the black fire that coiled around his trembling body like a living thing.
He staggered, knees buckling. His hands shook as he stared at the flames dancing across his fingertips. They didn't burn him. They felt… cold. Like the emptiness between stars.
This isn't real. This can't be real.
He slammed his fists against the wall, desperate to shake the fire off, but it clung stubbornly, curling with each thud. His breathing grew ragged, fear rising like a tide he couldn't hold back.
And then—
The flames sank inward, drawn back into the sigil etched across his chest. In an instant, the alley was dark and silent once more, as if nothing had happened.
Kael collapsed to the ground. His palms pressed against the cold stone, his body trembling so violently he thought his bones might shatter.
For a long moment, he didn't move. He only listened to the pounding of his heart and the echo of the word the men had hurled at him.
Monster.
When Kael finally stumbled home, dawn was already bleeding into the horizon.
His room was little more than a cramped space above a forgotten tailor's shop. The wooden beams creaked when he pushed the door open. Dust drifted in the pale morning light, settling on the single bed and the battered chest in the corner.
He dropped onto the mattress, his body aching. The moment his head touched the thin pillow, memories surged—the look on those men's faces, the way the fire had answered him.
His stomach twisted.
He pressed a hand against his chest where the pendant had once hung. The sigil was still there, faint but undeniable, glowing softly beneath his skin.
"What are you?" he whispered.
No answer came. Only silence, heavy and suffocating.
Kael covered his face with his hands. His eyes burned, and for the first time in years, he felt the sting of tears.
He hated it. Hated being weak. Hated that no matter how hard he tried, life only found new ways to remind him he was nothing. And now… this. Some cursed power that no one else had, something so unnatural that even hardened clan enforcers had fled at the sight of it.
I didn't ask for this.
His chest tightened. The pendant had always been his one comfort, the only thread connecting him to the parents he couldn't remember. Now it was gone—consumed, leaving behind only this mark, this curse.
"What do you want from me?" His voice cracked. "Why couldn't you just leave me alone?"
No answer. Only the hollow creak of wood settling around him.
Kael curled on the bed, exhausted. Eventually, sleep claimed him, though it was shallow and restless, haunted by whispers of shadow and flame.
When he awoke, the world was bright with midday light. His body still ached, but worse was the heaviness in his chest. The shame, the fear.
He sat up slowly, running a hand through his messy hair. His reflection in the cracked mirror across the room startled him—his eyes seemed darker, sharper, as if some unseen weight now lived behind them.
There was a knock at the door.
"Kael? You in there?"
Lyra's voice.
Panic surged. He glanced at his chest. The sigil had dimmed, but what if she noticed? What if she saw?
He pulled on a loose shirt quickly and opened the door just enough to peek out.
Lyra stood there with a small basket in her hands. She smiled, but it faded quickly when she saw his face.
"You look like death," she muttered. "What happened?"
"Nothing." His voice was hoarse.
"Don't lie. You disappear all night, and now you look like you fought a storm." She pushed past him into the room, setting the basket on the table. Bread and fruit spilled out, fresh enough that his stomach growled in betrayal.
Lyra gave him a sharp look. "When was the last time you ate?"
Kael turned away. "I'm fine."
"Kael…" Her tone softened. She touched his arm, her warmth steadying him for a heartbeat. "You don't have to carry everything alone, you know. You can tell me."
For a moment, he almost did. The words pressed against his throat, desperate to spill out—I'm cursed, I'm dangerous, I don't know what's happening to me.
But then he remembered the way those men had looked at him. The fear in their eyes. The word they had screamed.
Monster!
He pulled away. "It's nothing. Just leave it."
Lyra's smile faltered, but she nodded slowly. She didn't push further. Instead, she unwrapped the bread and placed it in his hands. "Eat, at least."
Kael stared at it, guilt gnawing at him. She cared more than he deserved.
He forced himself to take a bite, though it tasted like ash in his mouth.
That night, Kael found himself wandering again. The city was alive with laughter and light, but he drifted through it like a ghost. Every lantern, every shadow reminded him of the fire that had erupted from his body.
When he reached the outskirts, he stopped before the abandoned shrine where he often hid. The cracked statues and faded murals were the only witnesses to his secrets.
He sank to his knees, staring at his hands.
"I don't understand," he whispered. "Why me? Why now?"
The sigil on his chest pulsed faintly, as if mocking him.
Kael clenched his fists. He wanted to scream, to tear it out, to go back to being nothing rather than whatever this was. At least when he was nothing, he wasn't dangerous.
A sound behind him made him freeze.
"You're asking the wrong questions, boy."
The voice was low, rough with age, yet carrying a weight that silenced even the wind.
Kael spun around.
A figure stood in the doorway of the shrine, cloaked in gray. His face was hidden in shadow, but his presence pressed against Kael's chest like the weight of mountains.
The stranger tilted his head. "The real question isn't 'why you.' It's whether you're strong enough to survive what comes next."
Kael's breath caught. "Who are you?"
The figure stepped forward, the faint light glinting off a staff of blackened wood.
"Someone who's been waiting for the Shadowfire to awaken again."
Kael's heart stopped.
The stranger smiled faintly beneath the hood. "And now, it seems, it has chosen you."