Seraphina's POV
The screaming woke me up.
My screaming.
Rough hands grabbed my shoulders, pinning me down against scratchy sheets. "Seraphina! You're safe! Wake up!"
I thrashed against the grip, my throat raw from shrieking. Flames danced behind my eyelids—orange and red and hungry. So hungry. Eating everything. Eating everyone.
"No! Mom! Dad!" I sobbed, trying to claw my way back into the nightmare because at least there, they were still alive, even if they were burning—
A sharp sting on my cheek snapped my eyes open.
The nurse pulled her hand back, looking guilty but relieved. "I'm sorry, dear, but you wouldn't stop. That's the third nightmare this week."
I blinked at the water-stained ceiling of the charity hospital ward. Gray walls. Thin blankets. The smell of bleach and sickness. My body ached everywhere, wrapped in bandages that made me look like a mummy from the history books.
Three months. I'd been here three months, and I still couldn't remember what happened.
"How are you feeling today?" Nurse Agnes asked, smoothing my tangled hair back from my forehead. She was the only one here who was nice to me. Everyone else whispered and stared.
"My head hurts," I mumbled. It always hurt when I tried to remember that night.
Agnes frowned, touching my bandaged arms gently. "The doctors say your burns are healing nicely. You're very lucky, Seraphina."
Lucky. The word tasted like ash in my mouth.
"They're dead, aren't they?" I whispered. "My parents. Everyone."
I already knew the answer. Agnes had told me a dozen times. But some horrible part of me kept hoping I'd misheard, that it was just another nightmare.
Agnes's eyes filled with tears. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Ember Hollow is... it's gone. The entire village burned three months ago. You're the only one who survived."
The only one.
Those three words crushed my chest until I couldn't breathe. My mom with her bright laugh and flour-dusted aprons. My dad who taught me to skip stones at the river. My best friend Cassia who shared her lunch with me every day. Old Mr. Chen who gave out peppermints. Little Tommy who was scared of chickens.
All gone. Because of me.
"The Inquisitors said it was wild magic," Agnes continued softly. "Dangerous, unstable magic that got out of control. They said—" She stopped, biting her lip.
"They said what?" My voice came out sharper than I meant.
"They said your family might have been practicing illegal magic. That's what caused the fire."
Anger flared hot in my stomach. "That's a lie! My parents never—they wouldn't—"
But even as I protested, fragments of memory stabbed through my brain like broken glass.
Fire everywhere. Screaming. My mother's terrified face: "Sera, hide! Don't let them find you!"
Strangers in dark uniforms breaking down our door.
My father's hands glowing with orange light, magic crackling between his fingers—
I gasped, clutching my head as pain exploded behind my eyes.
"Seraphina?" Agnes grabbed my hand. "What is it?"
"I... I remembered something. My dad was using magic. But not to hurt anyone! He was trying to protect us from—"
The memory slipped away like water through my fingers, leaving only the pain.
"From what?" Agnes pressed.
"I don't know. I can't remember." Frustrated tears burned down my cheeks. "Why can't I remember?"
"The doctors say it's trauma. Your mind is protecting you from something too painful to face." Agnes squeezed my hand. "Maybe it's better this way."
Better? How could forgetting my parents' last moments be better?
The door slammed open, making us both jump.
A tall man in a black and gold uniform strode in, his boots clicking sharply against the floor. An Inquisitor. The fancy crest on his chest marked him as someone important—someone dangerous.
Agnes scrambled to her feet, curtsying. "Commander Aldric, sir. We weren't expecting—"
"Leave us," he ordered coldly.
Agnes hesitated, glancing at me with worried eyes. But you didn't disobey an Inquisitor. She hurried out, closing the door behind her.
Commander Aldric pulled a chair close to my bed and sat down, studying me like I was a bug under glass. He had cold eyes and a scar across his jaw that made him look cruel.
"Seraphina Ashborne," he said slowly, tasting my name. "The miracle survivor."
I said nothing, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"I have some questions about the night of the fire." He pulled out a small notebook. "Did your parents practice illegal magic?"
"No." The lie came automatically, even though I'd just remembered my father using magic. Some instinct warned me not to trust this man.
His eyes narrowed. "Are you certain? Because witnesses reported seeing magical flames—unusual flames—coming from your home before the fire spread."
"I don't remember anything," I said, which was mostly true.
"How convenient." He leaned closer, and I could smell tobacco on his breath. "Here's what I think happened, little girl. Your parents were illegal magic users. They lost control of their power and burned down an entire village. Volunteers from three neighboring towns died trying to save Ember Hollow. Good people. Dead because of your family's recklessness."
Rage and shame twisted in my stomach. "It wasn't—we didn't—"
"Didn't what?" He raised an eyebrow. "Didn't mean to? Didn't know better? Tell me, Seraphina, do you have magic?"
"No!" I practically shouted.
But even as I said it, my hands tingled strangely, like they were remembering something my brain had forgotten.
Commander Aldric stood abruptly. "If I find out you're lying to me, you'll be arrested and tried for murder. Do you understand? Murder."
I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
He walked to the door, then paused. "One more thing. Did you see anyone else that night? Anyone... watching?"
Silver eyes in the darkness.
The memory flashed so vividly I gasped. Someone had been there, standing in the smoke and flames, just watching. Watching me.
"I... I don't..."
"No?" Aldric's expression shifted to something I couldn't read—relief? Suspicion? "Well, if you remember anything, you tell me immediately. The Empire is very interested in what happened in Ember Hollow."
He left without another word.
I sat in the empty room, shaking. My bandaged hands wouldn't stop tingling, growing warmer and warmer until—
I looked down and screamed.
Tiny silver-white sparks were dancing across my palms, exactly like fireflies.
Exactly like magic.
The door burst open. Agnes rushed in. "What's wrong?"
But when I looked at my hands again, the sparks were gone.
Had I imagined them? Was I going crazy?
"N-nothing," I stammered. "Just another nightmare."
Agnes didn't look convinced, but she didn't push. "Well, I have news. The doctors are releasing you today. You're healed enough to leave."
My stomach dropped. "Leave? But where will I go?"
Agnes's face crumpled with pity. "I'm sorry, sweetie. The hospital can't afford to keep charity cases longer than necessary. They're giving you some donated clothes and a bit of coin for food. After that..." She trailed off, but I understood.
After that, I was on my own.
Two hours later, I stood outside the hospital wearing a burned, too-big dress that someone had donated. The "bit of coin" was barely enough for one meal. I had no family, no home, no friends.
The street bustled with people—families holding hands, merchants shouting about their wares, children laughing. Everyone had somewhere to belong.
Everyone except me.
I watched a little girl hug her mother tight, and my chest ached so badly I thought I might break in half.
I'm alone. Completely alone.
"Well, well. The Ashborne girl."
I spun around.
Three rough-looking men blocked my path, their faces twisted with hatred. The one in front had a black armband—a mourning band.
"My brother died fighting your family's fire," he snarled, stepping closer. "You got some nerve showing your face in public, monster."
I backed against the hospital wall. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't—"
"You didn't what? Didn't mean to kill innocent people?" He grabbed my collar, yanking me forward. "You should've burned with the rest of them."
His fist pulled back.
I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the pain.
But instead of a punch, I heard a smooth, dangerous voice slice through the air:
"Touch her, and you'll lose that hand."
My eyes flew open.
A man stood between me and my attackers—tall, dressed in an expensive black coat that screamed wealth and power. But it was his eyes that made my breath catch.
Silver eyes. Impossibly bright, like polished coins in the sunlight.
The same eyes I'd seen in the flames.
The same eyes from my nightmares.
He'd been there. The night Ember Hollow burned.
He'd been watching.