Of course he thought it looked good. I could’ve passed for his twin — same rough leather, same dark tones meant to hide dirt and blood.
“Didn’t doubt it would,” Will said, his voice coming from behind me. He appeared with a bundle of firewood in his arms, his sleeves rolled up, hair falling into his eyes. There was soot on his cheek, and something almost like relief hiding in his smile.
Their bickering barely reached me. The world felt... wrong. Off. I looked around slowly, taking in the walls, the light slipping through the cracks between the logs.
It wasn’t the same hut.
The walls were whole, patched with moss and bark. The fire was gentle, not the roaring pit I’d been thrown into. Outside, morning light pressed through the trees, turning the smoke pale and soft.
We weren’t in the same woods.
They’dmovedus.
Moved me. While I was unconscious. And somewhere in that realization, another truth settled in. I wasn’t scared of those hooded men anymore, but Will and Aran were. They were probably still watching the trees for movement, still listening for footsteps that didn’tbelong. Maybe they were afraid the hooded men would come back for us, finish what they started. And with me unconscious—burned, broken, useless—I wouldn’t have been able to protect them.
Or myself.
But they hadn’t left, and that proved something. Something I hadn’t let myself fully believe until now. They wereloyal. If there had ever been even a flicker of doubt, especially toward Aran, it was gone.
I had trusted them with my life. And they had proved themselves to me. And they’d stayed together. Even without me there to break up the fights, to roll my eyes at their bickering, they’d stayed. Aran had bought a gun, too. I saw it a few days later. He kept it tucked beneath his makeshift pillow, within reach.
And I never saw him drink again. Maybe he felt guilty. I don’t know.
“Did you know you could… do that?” Aran asked, sitting across from me.
My eyes stayed on the horizon, on the pale light spilling through the trees. Not to avoid the question, just because there was no answer.
How do you explain something like that?
Becoming something else.
Aran didn’t wait.
“I mean—gods, that was nothing like what you did to me. That was… worse. Or more. I don’t know.” He scratched at the back of his neck, words tripping over themselves. “Wait—could you have done that to me? If you wanted to? The fire—Kera, it was in you. Youwerethe fire. I could barely see you. It was like looking straight at the sun.”
His voice dropped.
“And then there was just... nothing left of him.”
I hadn’t known. Not until it was already happening. Not until it was done. When I shifted closer, they both tensed. Just slightly. Not enough for most people to notice.
But I noticed. Because I was watching for it.
Of course they did. They’d seen what I did. What the fire made of me.
How could they be sure I wouldn’t hurt them?
How could I?
I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to chase the warmth.
But I was cold again.
The fire still lived inside me. I could feel it, curled deep around my ribs, slow and quiet, like something waiting.
But it didn’t warm me. It never did.
“No,” I said. “I didn’t know.” I swallowed. My voice felt thin when I added, “But I thinkshedid. The woman.”
