The Fire Within

The wind howled against the cracked windows of West Hollow Orphanage, rattling the old frames like a warning. Inside, the lights flickered in time with the storm outside. Nova sat on the edge of her narrow bed, staring at the flame-shaped birthmark on the back of her hand. It pulsed faintly again—like it had a heartbeat of its own.

She clenched her fist and yanked her sleeve down.

It had started burning the week of her seventeenth birthday.

At first, she thought she was imagining things—maybe just a side effect of stress, or maybe her imagination trying to make something special out of another forgettable year. But this wasn't imagination. The mark was changing. Growing. And some nights… it glowed.

Like it was alive.

"Nova!" Layla's voice yanked her out of her thoughts. "Lights out was fifteen minutes ago. You want Sister May to breathe fire again?"

Nova rolled her eyes and lay back on the creaky mattress. "Maybe I'll breathe it first."

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Goodnight."

The room fell silent again, but sleep didn't come. Nova stared at the ceiling as lightning danced across it in flashes. Something inside her felt off—like a storm brewing beneath her skin. Her heartbeat was too loud, her fingertips too warm. She didn't belong here. Not with these walls. Not with these people.

She never had.

When she was six, she was found in an alley behind a church—alone, barefoot, and completely unharmed despite the bloodstains on her clothes. No one ever came looking for her. No one ever claimed her. Just "Nova"—the name she had written in the dirt beside her when they found her.

She didn't remember much before that night. Just fire.

Blinding fire.

And screaming.

Tonight felt the same.

That same pull in her chest. That same fire stirring.

She couldn't stay in the room. Not when it felt like her bones were burning.

Nova threw on her hoodie and slipped out of bed. She moved through the orphanage like a shadow, familiar with every squeaky step and drafty hallway. Within minutes, she was outside—greeted by wind, rain, and the smell of asphalt.

She didn't care where she went. She just needed to breathe. To move. To run.

So she did.

She sprinted through the empty streets, heart pounding, arms pumping as the storm wrapped around her like a cloak. Her mark burned hotter the farther she went, guiding her feet without direction.

Until the fire pulled her to a stop.

She stood in a narrow alley, panting. Her breath fogged the air. Her palms were glowing.

Then she saw him.

A man stepped from the shadows, tall and wrapped in a dark cloak that seemed to flicker like smoke. His eyes were silver—not grey, silver—and they glowed faintly in the dark.

Nova stepped back. "Who are you?"

The man tilted his head, studying her. "You felt it, didn't you?"

Her voice shook. "Felt what?"

"The fire waking up."

Nova's hands trembled. "What is happening to me?"

"You're marked," he said, voice low but clear. "Not just by fate. By the night itself. You're one of the Flamebound."

Flamebound?

Nova's legs nearly gave out. "I don't know what that means."

"You will. Soon. But first—you need to run."

Before she could ask why, the ground behind her cracked open with a burst of smoke and darkness. A creature emerged—long, hunched, and dripping shadows. Its eyes were red as blood, its mouth filled with jagged black teeth.

Nova froze.

The man moved in a blur, his hands igniting with golden flame. He hurled a blazing sigil that slammed into the creature, sending it screeching into the alley wall.

"Go!" he shouted at her.

But something inside Nova didn't move.

She didn't run.

Instead, her hands ignited.

The fire didn't hurt.

It felt right.

Nova screamed, not in fear—but in fury. She raised her palms and released a blast of searing heat that tore through the alley and slammed into the creature's chest. The thing shrieked and crumbled into ash.

The man stared at her. "You awakened too soon."

Nova dropped to her knees, breathing hard. "What… what was that thing?"

"A Shadowfiend. One of many that will come for you now."

"Why me?"

The man looked at her with something like pity. "Because the mark on your skin isn't a symbol—it's a beacon. And you just lit it."

Nova's heart pounded. Her skin steamed from the fading fire. The rain sizzled on her arms.

The man took a step closer. "They will come for you. Others will try to use you. But the fire you hold? It doesn't bow to darkness. You must learn to wield it."

Nova shook her head. "I didn't ask for this."

"None of us do," he said. "But the night chose you, Nova. You can't run from it anymore."

And with that, he vanished—like smoke on the wind.

Nova sat alone in the alley, rain pouring down, flames flickering faintly in her eyes.

Something had awakened.

And her life would never be the same.