Mira's POV
The smoke alarm screamed like a dying animal, and I knew—I just knew—this was going to be bad.
"CODE RED! PEDIATRIC WARD! EVACUATE NOW!"
My coffee hit the floor. I was already running.
Eighteen hours into a double shift. My feet ached. My eyes burned. But none of that mattered when I burst through the pediatric ward doors and saw orange flames eating the far wall like a hungry beast.
Six kids. Six tiny patients who couldn't walk on their own.
"MIRA!" Sarah, my best friend and head nurse, grabbed my arm. Her face was streaked with ash. "The main stairwell collapsed! We have to go through the east wing!"
"Get the others out!" I shoved past her toward the rooms. "I'll get the kids!"
"Mira, no! The fire department—"
"Won't get here in time!"
I ran into the first room. Little Tommy Chen, age four, recovering from surgery. His eyes were wide with terror as smoke poured under the door. I scooped him up—so light, too light—and pressed his face against my shoulder.
"Close your eyes, baby. We're going on an adventure."
He whimpered but obeyed.
The hallway was Hell. Black smoke choked the air. Heat slapped my face like an angry hand. I couldn't see three feet ahead.
"KIDS! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?" I screamed.
A small voice cried back. "NURSE MIRA!"
Emma Rodriguez. Six years old. Diabetes patient. She stood frozen outside her room in her pink hospital gown, tears streaming down her face.
"I've got you, sweetheart!" I shifted Tommy to one hip and grabbed Emma's hand. "Hold tight and don't let go!"
The smoke thickened. My lungs screamed for clean air. Each breath felt like swallowing fire.
Two down. Four to go.
I shoved the girls into Sarah's arms at the stairwell. "Take them! I'm going back!"
"Mira, the ceiling—"
A deafening crack split the air. Part of the roof caved in twenty feet behind me, shooting sparks everywhere.
"GO!" I pushed Sarah toward the stairs and ran back into the smoke.
My eyes watered so badly I was basically blind. I felt my way along the wall, coughing so hard my ribs ached.
Room 304. The twins—Marcus and Maya Foster. Eight years old. Asthma patients.
The worst possible kids to be trapped in smoke.
I kicked open their door. They huddled together on the bed, Marcus's inhaler clutched in his shaking hand. Both kids were wheezing, their lips turning blue.
"It's okay. I'm here. I'm here." I grabbed them both, one under each arm. They were heavier than the little ones, but adrenaline made me strong.
Their wheezing got worse as we moved through the smoke. Maya's body went limp.
"No, no, no! Stay with me, baby girl!"
I ran faster, my legs burning. The exit was close. So close.
I practically threw the twins at a firefighter who'd just arrived. "They need oxygen! NOW!"
He caught them, yelling something I didn't hear. I was already turning back.
Two more kids. Room 310 and 312.
"LADY, THE BUILDING'S COMING DOWN!" the firefighter roared.
I ignored him.
The smoke was so thick now I couldn't see my own hands. The heat was unbearable. My skin felt like it was melting. But I kept moving, kept feeling along the wall.
Jake Morrison. Five years old. Broken leg from a car accident.
I found him under his bed, crying silently, his casted leg stuck at an awkward angle.
"Hey, Jake the Snake." I used his nickname, forcing my voice to stay calm even though I wanted to scream. "Remember how I said you were the bravest kid I ever met?"
He nodded, snot and tears mixing on his face.
"Prove it. We're getting out of here."
I grabbed him, leg cast and all, and hauled him up. He cried out in pain, but I couldn't stop to be gentle. The ceiling groaned like a living thing about to die.
One more. One more kid.
Room 312. Baby Sophia. Eighteen months old. Recovering from pneumonia.
But when I reached her door, flames blocked the entrance. The fire had spread too fast.
I heard her crying inside. High-pitched wails that cut straight through my heart.
"I'M COMING, SOPHIA! HOLD ON!"
I handed Jake to another firefighter who appeared through the smoke like a ghost. "Get him out!"
"Ma'am, you need to evacuate—"
"THERE'S A BABY IN THERE!"
I didn't wait for permission. I ripped off my scrub top, soaked it with water from a broken pipe, wrapped it around my face, and charged through the flames.
The fire bit into my arms. My hair singed. But I kept going.
Sophia's crib was in the corner. She stood gripping the rails, her face red from crying. When she saw me, she reached out her tiny arms.
"Mama!"
It broke something in me. I wasn't her mama. But right now, I was all she had.
I grabbed her, held her tight against my chest, and turned toward the door.
The ceiling gave one final groan.
Then it came down.
I threw myself over Sophia, curling my body around hers like a shield. Debris slammed into my back. Something heavy crushed my legs. Pain exploded everywhere.
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Couldn't see anything but darkness and dust.
But I felt Sophia's little heart beating against mine.
Still alive. She was still alive.
"Help!" I tried to scream, but only a whisper came out. "Someone... help..."
My vision blurred. The pain faded to a dull throb. My thoughts got fuzzy.
I heard crashes. Shouts. Someone yelling my name.
But it sounded so far away.
At least they're safe, I thought as my eyes closed. All six kids. They made it.
My last breath tasted like ash and victory.
Then—nothing.
Except nothing wasn't nothing.
Something burned. Not fire-burning. Different. Like ice and lightning and sunshine all mixed together, setting every nerve ending on fire.
My arm.
Why did my arm feel like it was being branded?
I tried to scream but my throat wouldn't work. My body felt weightless and heavy at the same time, like I was floating underwater.
Then the burning stopped.
And I heard something impossible.
Birds. I heard birds singing.
My eyes snapped open.
Green. Everything was green. Not hospital-ceiling-tile green. Forest green.
Giant trees stretched up so high I couldn't see their tops. Sunlight filtered through leaves the size of dinner plates. The air smelled like rain and flowers and things I'd never smelled before.
And it was quiet. No machines beeping. No alarms shrieking. No city sounds.
Just... silence.
I sat up too fast. My head spun. I looked down at myself.
My scrub pants were gone. Instead, I wore some kind of rough brown dress that definitely wasn't mine. My arms were clean—no burns, no blood, no ash.
But my left arm...
"What the hell?"
Golden vines wrapped around my forearm from wrist to elbow, glowing softly like they had tiny lights inside them. They looked like tattoos but moved slightly, pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat.
I touched them. They were warm. And they were definitely part of my skin.
"Okay. Okay. I'm dreaming. I died and this is a dying-brain dream. That makes sense. Perfectly logical."
I said it out loud to make it true.
But it didn't feel like a dream.
Dreams didn't have smells this strong. Dreams didn't have ground this solid under your butt. Dreams didn't have air this crisp in your lungs.
A roar split the silence.
Not a lion roar. Not a bear roar. Something bigger. Something that made my bones vibrate and my blood turn to ice.
And it was close.
Very, very close.
I scrambled to my feet, spinning around. Where was I? How did I get here? What made that sound?
Branches crashed to my left. The roaring got louder.
Then I saw it.
A wolf.
But not any wolf I'd ever seen at a zoo or in nature documentaries.
This wolf was massive—the size of a pickup truck—with silver-white fur that seemed to glow in the dappled sunlight. Its eyes were gray like storm clouds.
And it was bleeding.
Deep claw marks raked across its side, blood matting the beautiful fur. The wolf stumbled, its legs shaking, and those intelligent gray eyes locked onto mine.
For one frozen second, we just stared at each other.
Then the wolf's legs gave out and it collapsed ten feet away from me with a thud that shook the ground.
It didn't move.
My nurse brain kicked into gear before my scared brain could stop it.
Injured. Bleeding out. Needs help.
I dropped to my knees and crawled toward the giant wolf, my hands already reaching out.
"Easy, boy. Easy. I'm going to help you."
The wolf's eye cracked open. It watched me approach with an expression that looked almost... human.
My glowing arm burned hotter as I got closer.
I pressed my hands against the wolf's bloody fur.
The golden vines on my arm exploded with light.
And the wolf began to change.