As long as the burn on my chest kept blazing,
I couldn't even breathe properly while standing in the corridor.
It felt like something hot was pounding inside me—
not my heartbeat…
the heartbeat of fire itself.
I pressed my hand against the wall and slowly sank to the floor.
"I can't… I can't do this anymore… stop…"
The moment the words left my mouth,
someone—something—inside me
let out half a laugh.
"You didn't call me…
but you opened the door."
I shook my head.
"I didn't want this—"
"Want and need are never the same."
The voice wasn't distant anymore.
It felt as if it was speaking from inside my ear.
Shaking, I pushed myself to my feet.
There was one thing I had to do.
I needed to get out of the house.
The longer I stayed here,
the stronger the voice became.
I already understood that much.
I grabbed my keys and coat and stepped outside.
The moment my foot crossed the threshold,
I felt a strange release—
as if a massive weight had lifted off my chest for the first time in days.
The air outside was cold,
yet soothing to the fire burning inside me.
I began walking down the road.
Morning here was quiet,
snow muffling every sound.
But after a few minutes,
I realized my palm was warming again.
Not like before.
This time, with a tingling, prickling sensation beneath the skin.
When I pulled my hand out of my pocket,
I froze.
A faint wisp of smoke
seemed to be curling from my fingers.
I jerked my hand away from my face, breath catching.
But the smoke vanished instantly—
a trick of the cold, or maybe a trick of my own fear.
I steadied myself and kept walking.
At the corner shop,
I saw the old woman again—the neighbor.
She stopped the moment she noticed me.
Her eyes—
sharper today, more suspicious.
She said slowly,
"Your scent has changed."
A chill shot through me.
"What are you talking about?"
She stepped closer.
"When fire enters a body,
the scent changes.
You know that, don't you?"
I shook my head desperately.
"No! I don't know anything about this—"
She grabbed my wrist and pulled it toward her.
Her fingers were like ice.
"Show me your hand."
I tried to pull back,
but her grip was shockingly strong.
She turned my palm over.
Perfectly normal.
No glow.
No mark.
Even I felt relieved.
The old woman stared at it for several seconds,
then exhaled deeply.
"I see… it hasn't fully entered yet.
But it will.
And when time runs out—"
I jerked my hand away.
"I don't believe any of this!"
She looked straight into my eyes and said quietly—
"Your belief doesn't matter.
It has chosen you."
Cold swept through my entire body.
Suddenly—
a whisper, right by my ear—
"She knows…"
I hurried away from her as fast as I could.
By noon,
still shaken,
I wandered into a small café.
Soft warm lighting,
murmured conversations—
for a moment,
it almost felt normal.
I sat by the window.
The waiter approached.
"What would you like?"
"Coffee. Black."
He walked off.
I stared at the falling snow,
trying to calm the storm inside me.
But then—
The café door opened.
A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped inside,
scanning the room as if searching for someone.
His gaze locked onto me.
He walked straight toward my table.
"Excuse me… are you Naziba?"
I stiffened.
"Yes… do I know you?"
He clenched his jaw.
"You live in the old cortez, right?
We found something last night…
in the woods behind your house."
My chest tightened painfully.
"What did you find?"
He leaned closer.
"Burned symbols.
Fresh ones.
And handprints.
Small ones… like a woman's."
My throat went dry.
He continued,
"You should be careful.
That place… it isn't safe."
Right then—
Fire surged through my palm,
sharp and violent.
Under the table,
I clutched my hand.
Hot.
Too hot.
As if my skin would split open and burst into flame.
"I… I need to go," I muttered.
I pushed back my chair, ready to leave—
But the man grabbed my shoulder.
"Wait. You didn't hear me. That place is—"
That's when it happened.
My hand flew up—
I didn't move it—
and landed on his wrist.
Only for a second.
One second.
He screamed and yanked his arm back.
His skin had reddened instantly—
not from cold,
but like he'd touched a burning stove.
He stared at me, horrified.
"Wh—what the hell?! What was that?!"
Shocked, I looked at my own hand.
Perfectly normal.
No flames.
No glow.
But inside me,
the voice chuckled softly—
"The first touch."
I stumbled backward.
"No… no… that wasn't me…"
The man backed away in fear.
"Stay away from me!"
I ran out of the café.
The icy air hit my chest,
and the burn mark flared painfully.
Inside me,
the voice spoke—not whispering this time,
but clear and undeniable—
"Fire is in your hands now.
And you…
are no longer just the hunted."