The Fire Awakens

The days that followed felt like a blur to Anne—each one blending into the next, the heavy weight of her mother's silence pressing down on her. Bela's gaze had been colder, sharper, like she was waiting for something. But Anne couldn't bring herself to speak up, not yet. The stranger's words haunted her, a constant hum in the back of her mind: You're more dangerous than you realize.

She felt it, too. The fire inside her—burning hotter now, too alive to ignore. Sometimes it felt as if the flame in her chest could consume her whole. But every time she tried to push it away, it surged back stronger, as though mocking her attempts to keep it under control.

Anne sat in the small, dimly lit room that had been her sanctuary for so long, staring at the window. Outside, the sky was dark, a storm rolling in over the horizon. The air was thick with anticipation, and she could almost taste the electricity in it. The night felt charged—alive, in a way that made her uneasy.

The strange pull in her chest had returned. It was more than just the fire inside her; it was something else. Something she couldn't explain. Every time the breeze picked up, it felt as though the wind itself was calling her, urging her to leave. To run.

Her mother's voice broke the silence, sharp and commanding, just as it always was. "Anne."

Anne turned, startled. Bela stood in the doorway, her eyes narrowing, as though she had been watching her for much longer than Anne had realized.

"You're restless," Bela said, her voice flat, devoid of the usual warmth. "I can feel it. You can't run forever."

Anne's throat tightened. She didn't want to argue, didn't want to fight, but the need to know the truth was clawing at her. The stranger had awakened something inside her, something she could no longer deny. The fire. The power. The rage.

"I'm not running," Anne replied softly, her voice betraying a flicker of defiance. "I just... I need to understand. You always tell me I'm dangerous. I need to know why."

Bela's expression darkened, and for a moment, Anne saw something in her mother's eyes—a flicker of fear. Fear that wasn't for Anne, but for what Anne might become.

"You think you understand?" Bela asked, her tone sharp, almost mocking. "You think you can just understand? You're not ready for that kind of knowledge, Anne. Not yet. I've kept you safe for a reason."

Anne stood, feeling the heat in her chest flare to life. The anger, the frustration, everything she had been bottling up since that night in the forest came pouring out. "Safe? Is this what you call safe? Hiding me away like some kind of monster? You won't tell me anything. I'm sick of it!"

For the first time in years, Anne's voice cracked, the pressure of everything she had been holding in breaking free. The fire inside her surged, a wave of heat that burned across her skin. Without thinking, she thrust her hand out, and—

CRACK.

A shock of energy erupted from her fingertips, sending a ripple through the room. The air shimmered, and a single flame burst to life in the air, hovering between her and her mother.

Anne froze. She hadn't meant to—hadn't expected the fire to actually respond like that. It hovered in the air, a living thing, flickering and twisting, casting eerie shadows against the walls.

Bela's eyes widened, her lips parting in shock. "No."

But it wasn't just shock that flashed across her face. There was something deeper. Something darker.

"I didn't mean to—" Anne started, her heart racing. She reached for the flame, but the fire flickered and died before her fingers could touch it, leaving only a lingering warmth in the air.

Bela stepped back, her expression hardening into something unreadable. "You're not ready, Anne. You don't even understand what you've just done."

Anne's breath hitched. "I... I don't understand anything anymore."

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. Then Bela spoke, her voice low, cold.

"You'll learn soon enough," she said, her gaze distant, as though she was seeing something beyond Anne, something in the future. "You're going to need help, Anne. But not from me."

Anne stood frozen, the weight of her mother's words hanging in the air like a threat. Help. Who could help her? What did she even need help with?

Before Anne could ask, Bela turned, her footsteps fading as she walked away. Anne stood in the center of the room, the remnants of the flame still warm on her skin, the burn in her chest still flaring.

Whatever was happening to her, she knew it was only the beginning.