Real Problems

Ty looked at him for a moment, the weariness evident in his eyes. He sighed, shaking his head. "I wish I had some noble reason for saving you," he said, his voice quiet. "Honestly, it was just a pathetic, last-second moment where I couldn't stand the idea of someone dying right in front of me." He glanced down at his own burns, the blackened skin that threatened to crack with every movement. He grimaced, then let the flames dance softly across his skin, the searing heat merging into a steady warmth.

Ty gritted his teeth as the heat worked its way through his body. It wasn't just the pain—it was more like reshaping himself. Each flicker of fire sealed a burn, the flames not just mending the surface, but going deeper, strengthening his resolve, forcing his cells to heal. The way the skin knit back together under the pressure of the warmth was like forging armor, but this time, it was his own flesh being forged. His breath steadied, his senses sharper now.