Fire and Chain

The bodies lay still. The night air reeked of blood and scorched flesh. Anne stood motionless, her breath unsteady, her fingers still tingling with the phantom heat of her flames.

She had killed.

Not directly, but her fire had done this. Her power had nearly burned a man alive.

The weight of it settled on her shoulders like chains.

Lucian, however, moved without hesitation. He knelt beside one of the fallen hunters, searching his belt with practiced ease. "They'll send more," he muttered. "These were scouts."

Anne barely heard him. She was staring at her hands, turning them over, half-expecting to see embers still flickering at her fingertips.

She could still feel it—the fire—like a living thing coiled inside her, waiting.

"You've never killed before."

Lucian's voice pulled her back. She glanced at him. His expression wasn't mocking or cruel. Just… knowing.

She forced herself to straighten. "I don't regret it."

Lucian raised a brow, as if testing her resolve. "Good." He pulled a metal emblem from one of the hunter's belts and held it up for her to see. A sharp, black insignia—two fangs crossing over a sword.

"They're from the Order of Vael," he said. "One of the oldest hunter clans."

Anne clenched her jaw. "Why are they after me?"

Lucian exhaled sharply. "Because of what you are." He stood, tucking the emblem into his coat. "And because your mother hid you too well."

Anne frowned. "Too well?"

Lucian turned to her, his expression unreadable. "They've been looking for you for years, Anne. You think this is random? A coincidence?"

Anne's stomach twisted.

She had always known her mother was keeping secrets. That she had hidden Anne away for a reason. But she had never questioned the why—never dared to push too hard.

Now, she was starting to realize how much of a mistake that had been.

Lucian took a step closer. "You don't just exist, Anne. You were made. You were meant to be something dangerous. Something impossible."

Anne swallowed. "And you?"

Lucian hesitated. Then, "I found my own way."

The answer was too careful. Too guarded.

She didn't believe him.

But before she could push, another howl echoed through the forest. This one was different—longer, deeper. Not a warning. A command.

Lucian's expression darkened. "More are coming."

Anne instinctively took a step back. "How many?"

Lucian tilted his head, listening. "Too many."

Her heart pounded. "Then we need to—"

She never got the chance to finish.

A sharp whistling sound split the air.

Pain.

White-hot and immediate.

Anne barely had time to react before her body locked. Her muscles seized. Her vision blurred. She tried to breathe, but her chest refused to move.

Her legs buckled.

Lucian caught her before she hit the ground.

Shock coursed through her veins, burning like ice. She tried to move, tried to summon her fire—nothing.

Her head lolled forward, and that's when she saw it.

A silver dart embedded in her shoulder.

Poison.

Lucian's grip tightened. "Anne—"

Another whistling sound.

Lucian moved fast—too fast for human eyes—but not fast enough. A second dart struck his side. He staggered, his balance faltering.

Figures emerged from the trees.

Hunters.

Not like the last ones. These were different—stronger, faster. Clad in dark armor, their faces obscured by masks. Their weapons gleamed in the moonlight, silver and iron.

Anne's breath came in ragged gasps. Her limbs were useless, heavy. The fire inside her flickered, trying to push past the numbing cold in her veins—but the poison was stronger.

A hunter stepped forward, gripping a thick chain in his hands.

"Target secured," he said, his voice emotionless.

The last thing Anne saw was the glint of steel before the world faded to black.