Fire Resistant Dummies

The evening air is crisp as I step into the open yard, my breath curling in the cold. Overhead, the moon hangs like a silver coin, casting long shadows across the training grounds. Yohan is already there, standing near a row of fire-resistant dummies. He looks up at my approach, his sharp features bathed in moonlight. For a moment, he simply watches me, his deep blue eyes unreadable.

"You came," he says, his voice low.

I cross my arms. "You told me not to be late."

A flicker of something crosses his face, amusement perhaps, but it vanishes as he gestures toward the dummies. "Let's begin."

I take a deep breath, rolling my shoulders as I step into position. My limbs are still sore from the incident with Reina, and the memory of losing control is fresh in my mind. Yohan circles me slowly, arms crossed.

"Ignis energy isn't just about power," he begins. "It's about control. You don't just throw fire around and hope it lands. You guide it. You shape it."

I nod, already feeling the heat stir beneath my skin. I raise my hand, calling on the energy within me, and release it in a burst toward the dummy. A stream of fire shoots out—but it goes wide, missing the target completely. The flames sputter against the dirt before dying out.

Yohan exhales through his nose. "Again."

I try. And fail. Again and again. Each time, the fire is wild, uncontrolled. Frustration coils inside me, making my muscles tense.

"You're focusing on force," Yohan murmurs, stepping behind me. "That's your problem."

I glare at him. "What else am I supposed to focus on?"

He steps closer, his chest nearly brushing my back. "Direction. Fire follows intent. Don't just throw it. Aim it."

His fingers graze my wrist as he adjusts my stance, and a jolt of warmth that has nothing to do with ignis energy shoots through me. I swallow hard, ignoring the shiver that runs down my spine.

"Close your eyes," he instructs.

I do.

"Breathe."

I inhale deeply, feeling the fire stir beneath my skin. Yohan's fingers linger, a grounding touch, and my pulse stutters when his breath brushes my ear.

"Now, try again."

I exhale, extending my hand. This time, instead of forcing the fire out, I guide it. The flames move in a smooth, controlled arc, striking the dummy dead center. A burst of satisfaction blooms in my chest.

"Good," Yohan murmurs, his voice lower than before. He doesn't move away, and I become acutely aware of the space between us—or the lack of it.

I turn my head slightly, and suddenly, we're closer than we should be. His eyes flicker down to my lips. The tension between us crackles like embers, and I realize, to my horror, that I want to close the gap. That I want to know what it would feel like to have his mouth on mine.

His fingers tighten slightly on my wrist. His breath is hot against my skin.

We are a breath away.

A throat clears.

I jerk back as if burned, turning to see Mateo standing at the entrance to the yard. His arms are crossed, his expression unreadable, but there's a sharpness in his gaze as he takes in the scene before him.

"Evelyn told me you were training," he says, his voice carefully neutral. "I figured you could use some help."

Yohan steps away from me, his posture stiffening. "She already has help."

Mateo lifts a brow. "Oh? Because last I checked, I am better than you were in your second year. Who's to say I won't be a section leader someday?"

Yohan's jaw tightens. The air between them is suddenly charged with something entirely different—a tension that has nothing to do with fire and everything to do with unspoken competition.

I step between them before things can escalate. "Enough. I appreciate the offer, Mateo, but I'm okay"

Mateo's gaze flickers to me, and his expression softens slightly. "Right. Well, if you need me, I'll be in the cafeteria."

Before he leaves, he reaches out, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. It's brief but deliberate. Then, with a final look at Yohan, he turns and walks away.

I let out a slow breath. The atmosphere has shifted. The moment I almost shared with Yohan is gone, replaced by something heavier.

"Let's get back to it," I say quickly, needing the distraction.

Yohan nods, but there's something different in the way he looks at me now. As I turn back to the dummy, I realize that my hands are shaking.

Not from exhaustion.

But from something far more dangerous.