From the world.
Strangely, it brought tears to my eyes, that unconditional, instinctual motherly love. Gods I missed my mother. My innocence. Feeling safe in her arms, sheltered by her love. Protected from all the horrors of the world.
Now I was the protector.
“Okay,” I murmured, glancing over the cats. One of the kittens gave a little shake, flinging droplets everywhere.
“We need a towel. Just a second.”
I slipped into the hallway and dug through a storage closet until I found a few.
“You first,” I whispered, reaching for the mother. She didn’t flinch. Just let me wrap her in the warmth like she trusted me. “There we go. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
Her fur was ice-cold. I dried her as gently as I could, then reached for the kittens. The gray-speckled one gave a soft sneeze, shaking water from its ears. Then the white one took a step forward and stumbled. It let out a small, broken cry and limped across the floor.
“Oh no.” I was already moving. “Come here. Let me see you.”
I crouched low and scooped it carefully into my hands. It didn’t struggle. Just trembled against my palms, soaked and hurting. Its hind leg was swollen, bent at an odd angle.
“No wonder you’re crying,” I whispered. It mewled again, trying to pull away. “Shh. Please. Let me help.”
I cupped it gently in both hands. And then came the warmth, a flicker of gold beneath my skin. It didn’t feel forced that time. I didn’t have to think or reach for it. It was just... there.
The kitten stilled, and I felt it—the shift. The slow mending of bone easing back into place, the swelling retreating. She curled into mylap and let out a long, shuddering breath. The other two followed without hesitation.
I was still glowing. Not burning. Just warm, and they purred, loud and steady, so I stayed there, listening to the storm outside as the cats pressed into me like I was sunlight.
Tufts of fur floated through the firelit air, catching in the glow like dust motes. The gray film clung to the baseboards, the windowpanes, the edges of every forgotten surface. Cobwebs drifted from the ceiling beams, gray and delicate, and something about it made my skin itch.
Carefully, I lifted the kittens and placed them on the towel by the hearth. They didn’t stir. I rose, walked into the hall, and opened the storage closet again. Pushed past a stack of blankets, reached between boxes, until I found what I was looking for. A duster. I picked it up and looked around.
“We should clean this place up,” I said softly. “In case the family comes back.”
The mother cat tilted her head, watching me from the hearth.
“Was it your family?” I asked, as if expecting an answer from the cat. “Did you live here with them?”
There was obviously no answer, just the hush of rain and fading thunder. I moved through the room, dusting the mantle, the windowsills, the chairs. I folded a blanket, straightened the rug and fixed a crooked frame that wouldn’t stay straight. When I reached the bookshelf, I paused. My fingers drifted across the backs of the books. Books about ancient gods, lost cities, creatures made of bone, ash, and lightning. Then one caught my eye.
Tales of the Deep: The Kraken and Other Sea Monsters
I thought of the man who called himself the Kraken. The leader of the Wardens. I wasn’t even sure he was real, and if he was… he was likely dead by now. I pulled the book from the shelf and sank to the floor again, tucking my legs beneath me. The book was too big to hold in my hands, so I set it down in front of me on the floor and eased it open. The white kitten wandered over again, climbed into my lap, circled once, then tucked herself in with a soft little sigh. I let my hand rest on her back, fingers brushing through her fur.
Inside the book were stories of krakens and sirens and trolls. Creatures with talons and scales and too many eyes. Myths that people told to explain what they couldn’t. I kept flipping the pages. I wasn’t even sure what I was looking for. Maybe an answer. Maybe something that made me feel less alone. There were tales about shapeshifters and seers. People who could bend water, call the wind, see the future before it came.
But none of them were like me. There was nothing about a girl who could survive being burned alive. A girl who could turn someone to ash.
With every page, my chest grew heavier. If there were no stories like mine, maybe there was no one like me at all. Maybe there had never been.
And I was alone.
A mistake.
A monster.
I grabbed another book. Desperate now, trying to find anything to explain what I was. But it was the same, just more stories, more myths. Still nothing like me.
I didn’t hear the footsteps until I felt him behind me, and I didn’t have to look up to know.
