Who is he? Prt3

Myles could tell—the tide was shifting.

The air grew heavier, tighter, as if the space itself braced for what was to come. He gritted his teeth, arms tensing. Whatever Daena was planning, it was about to hit.

Faster than sight, she struck.

He barely blocked. The impact rattled his bones, and he groaned under the weight of it. "Her hits are heavier… what does this mean?"

The force flung him backward. A boot slammed into his gut mid-air, driving him into the wall with a sickening crack. Coughing, he dragged himself free, wiping blood from his chin. He looked at the red smear on his fingers.

"Heavier," he muttered.

Waves of Criole radiated from her now, rolling off her like heat from an open furnace.

"If she pushes harder," he thought, eyes narrowing, "then I'll burn hotter."

His black flames roared to life. They combusted violently around him, the heat so intense that any sweat he produced vaporized instantly. The air shimmered.

Daena smiled. Her next dash looked slow—too slow.

Wrong.

She vanished.

Six hands erupted from the ground, clawing up and locking him in place. She launched herself at him, fist drawn back and aimed for his face.

With a roar, Myles surged, straining against the grip. The black fire burst outward—enough to break free. He tore across the battlefield, igniting bursts of flame beneath his feet to steer.

"This way… I can keep up."

Daena's laugh echoed behind him. "I knew you were good. Adapting mid-fight? Impressive."

Their blades met in a flurry—slash for slash, strike for strike.

Then something changed.

"What is this?" Myles thought. "Everything feels lighter… slower."

His perception stretched. Time bent. Her attacks dulled. His movements sharpened.

His eyes lit up—bright, smoldering red.

Daena continued, unaware.

Until a sudden red wave of Criole surged from him, pushing her back.

Myles didn't look like Myles anymore.

He stood still, eyes distant—no longer present. Each of her attacks was deflected effortlessly. His flames began to shift in color, glowing now with a copper hue.

Daena backed away, her expression sobering. "What... what are you?"

Then—

"Stop."

A voice. Clear, feminine, unmistakably divine.

Ava appeared from the direction Myles had been staring. Her blue hair shimmered like water. Her dark skin and flowing garments commanded the entire room's attention. She didn't ask for reverence—she was reverence.

Even Myles' wild flames bent slightly in her presence.

He floated toward her as if pulled by gravity.

"You're quite peculiar," Ava murmured, brushing a few strands of hair from his face. "Losing yourself to your own…" She paused, eyes narrowing. Red strands twisted among the black fire. "What could this mean?"

Lia burst through the gathering crowd, already moving toward him. "Myles, what's—"

She stopped. Her voice caught.

That wasn't him.

Not the man she knew. His body stood, but his mind… it was elsewhere. His eyes were full of soul but void of thought. Beautiful—but hauntingly vacant.

Her heart dropped.

"No. Not again…"

Ava glanced at her, calm. "Don't worry. He's just… overwhelmed. His potential precedes him."

With a single graceful motion, Ava placed her palm gently against his cheek.

Light exploded through the room—violent, blinding. Everyone shielded their eyes as a pulse of Criole siphoned from him and vanished into Ava's hand.

When the light faded, Myles slumped forward—unconscious.

Ava lowered him gently to the floor. Lia dropped to her knees and cradled his head in her lap, her breath shaky.

He was still warm.

But for a moment, she wasn't sure if she'd lost him again.

But as she looked into his face—so still, so distant—her mind drifted, unbidden, to a memory buried just beneath the surface. The first time she ever saw him.

She had been fifteen.

Fresh off a harsh training rotation on a remote planet, her body ached and her heart yearned for something unknown. Rai and Kaelen had come to retrieve her, piloting their sleek ship with its familiar hum of core energy. But something had felt…off.

The beasts pulling the vessel—a pair of ancient, criole-fed creatures—moved sluggishly, their immense forms slower than usual. It was strange. Beasts like them never lacked nourishment. Not in open space.

"Maybe it's because Uta is so far from anything," Lia had guessed, peering out the hull at the dying stars. "They're probably just drained."

"I'm sure one of the droid cores could recharge them," Kaelen had offered with a shrug.

But Lia had smiled, already floating toward the exit. "No, I want to feed them. They like me."

And they did. She didn't know why, but the creatures always responded to her. Maybe it was her Criole. Maybe it was her voice. Or maybe… they just understood her the way no one else truly did.

Once outside, surrounded by the chilling silence of the void, she soared to them. The beasts greeted her with low, vibrating growls. She fed them bountiful spheres of raw energy—her own mixture, tailored to their liking. They nuzzled her in thanks.

But that wasn't why she had come out.

She'd seen something earlier. A silhouette drifting in the distance. Faint. Motionless.

She had told no one.

As soon as the beasts quieted, she turned and darted through the stillness, zeroing in on the figure. The further she flew, the clearer it became.

Not debris. Not a droid.

A person.

Floating, unconscious… maybe dead. His dark hair waved unnaturally in the low-gravity field, and his skin shimmered faintly as if coated in a protective aura. Something inside her shifted at the sight.

Her feet touched nothing, but her heart felt the ground beneath her.

And then she saw his face.

Her breath caught in her throat.

There, lost and lifeless in space, was the boy who would one day set her soul on fire.