My room was quiet, except the subtle russle of paper.
I sat on the edge of my bed, staring out the large window of my room. The late afternoon sun spilled golden light over the courtyard, stretching long shadows across the cobblestone paths.
Outside, a group of kids ran across the field, their laughter echoing through the air. Someone let out a playful scream, the kind that came with chasing and harmless falls.
Then, a sharp cry—one of the kids had fallen. "It hurts!" the boy whimpered, clutching his knee.
Something in my chest twisted.
It hurts. The words struck me like a hammer, too familiar, too sharp. The air around me shifted, thickening, pressing against me like an unseen weight. My vision blurred, and suddenly-
I'm wasnt in my room anymore. Flames. They're everywhere. The heat claws at my skin, swallowing the walls, licking at the collapsing beams above me. The air is thick with smoke, suffocating, burning my throat with every breath.
A woman is screaming, no, pleading. Someone else is coughing violently, their voice barely a whisper beneath the roar of the fire.
Then I see him. A boy, no older than me, trapped beneath a fallen beam. His clothes are singed, his face streaked with snot and tears. His wide, terrified eyes lock onto mine.
"It hurts," he sobs. His fingers claw at the floor, reaching for something.
for me.
"?????," he cries. "Help me!" I try to move. My legs won't listen. My arms won't lift.
I just stand there, watching.
ah. Another dream about this other world.
I don't want this.
I want to help.
I have to help.
But my body isn't mine.
The flames rise higher, consuming everything, until-
I gasp, my body jerking violently as I snap back to reality. The room is quiet again. The sunlight outside is soft, the laughter of the kids below distant, muffled.
My heart hammers against my ribs, my breath coming in short, uneven gulps. What was that?
I blink, trying to steady myself. Just another dream. Another stupid dream. slowly, i regained my composure. but that was different then the other visions.
the boy felt..familiar but i couldnt really point my finger on why. i looked out of the window once more but the moment my gaze landed on my hand my breath stocked.
It's still gripping the window sill, my knuckles white. And beneath my palm-
The wood is scorched.
I yank my hand away. A blackened handprint is burned into the surface, the edges still smoking faintly. Panic grips me again. That, that can't be real. I didn't- I couldn't have, A sharp heat flares in my palm. I look down just in time to see it.
Fire.
It flickers to life in my hand, crawling up my fingers, twisting, growing. It's alive, breathing, hungry. The heat sears my skin, but it doesn't hurt. But it should. My chest tightens. My breathing quickens.
No, no, no
The fire spreads. The curtains catch first. The flames devour the fabric in an instant, leaping to my desk, my books, the walls.
My room is burning.
And this time, it's me.
The crackling of the fire is the only sound that fills the air, louder than the frantic pounding of my heart. My mind is racing, everything happening too fast, too much to process.
The flames are everywhere, licking at the furniture, curling around the walls, and in the center of it all, I stand frozen. My hand, the one that had touched the window sill, is still smoking, the fire dying down but the damage is already done. I open my mouth to scream, but no sound comes out.
And then, I hear it. Loud footsteps. The door to my room slams open with a violent force.
Ivan stands there, his eyes wide, his expression sharp with concern. Without a word, he strikes forward, grabbing me by the arm and yanking me toward him.
"Come on!" His voice is tight, urgent. His eyes flicker toward the fire, and without a second thought, he raises both hands, pulling in the energy of the flames, absorbing their violent heat like it's nothing.
The fire around us seems to hesitate, as though it's aware of his presence. then, it sinks into him, vanishing into his body, leaving the room strangely silent and still.
I blink, my mind struggling to catch up. He's, he's doing it again, like he always does. absorption. But this time, it's not just about strength. He's taking it, taking the fire and swallowing it whole, but with no redirection in sight, the pain and the heat of the fire, was consumed by him, letting him feel the heat of it all at thrice as hard. a ping of guilt crept up my spine.
He could have just called for Esra, a maid, whos ability is hydrokinesis. she would have been able to vanquish the fire so easily. But he knew her drawback was that she would feel like drowning. if she were to use it for such a large fire she could have really have been in trouble.
Ivan had always been a responsible person. A quiet but caring Person.
He never played around with me but he still protected me. we only had a year difference yet he was still on a completely other level.
"Stay close to me," Ivan murmurs, his voice steady despite the chaos. His grip on me tightens, guiding me away from the burning room, away from the remnants of whatever just happened.
Before I can even gather my thoughts, I hear more footsteps, louder now, coming from below.
"What's going on up there?" My father's voice is like ice, cutting through the air as he storms up the stairs, his heavy boots thudding on the wooden steps. My mother is right behind him, her face drawn, panic etched across her features. She doesn't say anything, her eyes wide as she follows, her gaze flickering to Ivan as he pulls me toward the hallway.
Shit. I can barely breathe, my head spinning. The shock of what happened, the fire, the power, it's all too much.
my father's figure appears in the doorway. He's standing there, his presence like a dark storm cloud. His gaze sweeps over the damage, the scorch marks on the walls, the burnt air still thick in the room.
"What is this?" His voice is calm, but there's an edge to it that makes my stomach turn.
"Explain yourself, Noah."
I shiver. I can barely look him in the eye, the fear creeping up my spine. He's waiting.
Waiting for an answer. My throat tightens. I open my mouth, but the words don't come.
How can I explain this? How can I explain that whatever i daydreamed about the other world came to life? It sounds absurd and they already dont believe me when i talk about it.
So i did the only thing im quite good at. i stayed silent.
My mother steps forward, her face pale, but her voice clear "Alaric, it was an accident. The fire-"
But my father cuts her off, his cold eyes never leaving me. "An accident?" His voice grows low, controlled, but there's fury beneath it. "Noah, I asked you a question."
I can barely move, and the fire from earlier still seems to dance behind my eyelids. The weight of the situation presses down on me, too heavy for my mind to hold.
My body is trembling, the panic bubbling up inside me, my skin still hot from the flames, the burn mark on my hand still visible in the dim light. Ivan stands next to me, his face unreadable.
His gaze flickers to my father, then to me, but he says nothing. He doesn't have to.
"I don't know what happened," I manage to say, my voice barely a whisper, shaky and small. "I… I just—"
"Enough," my father interrupts, his voice sharp like a blade.
"The fire, your ability, it doesn't matter." His eyes narrow. "You will learn to control it. Do you understand me?" I nod, though I don't know if I do. The way he says it, it's not a question. It's a command. And I feel the weight of it crush me, like there's no room to breathe
Ivan's gaze hardens, but he doesn't say anything. He steps forward, subtly blocking my father's view of me, as if he's protecting me, and in some strange way, it calmed me down. My mother looks between the three of us, worry lining her face. "We need to talk about this," she murmurs, her voice barely audible. "But not like this."
My father's expression doesn't change. "We'll discuss it later. Noah, this better never happen again." No sign of concern, really. It's all just cold, controlled authority.
The tension in the air is palpable. I can barely stand it. The room feels too small, the weight of his gaze suffocating.
"Ivan," my father says finally, his voice calm again but carrying a silent command. "Stay with him. Make sure he doesn't repeat this mistake. ill go call alyssa so she can start with the renovation of this disaster"
Ivan nods, his face still expressionless. As Father turned around and walked out of the room, I didn't know whether to feel relieved or terrified. The fire is gone, but the burn is still there, deep inside of me. And I can't help but wonder if it's only just beginning.