I throw open the door and run.
Before he can stop me.
Before I can stop myself.
The streets are chaos.Not the kind you feel from far away—this is up-close and clawing, heat pressing in on every side, thick and suffocating.
And the sound. God, the sound. Screaming, yes, but not just people; wood groaning, stone cracking, and something deeper beneath it all, like Ashvale itself is crying out, like it knows its dying, its lungs collapsing around us, and it’s taking us with it.
The glow of fire is the only light—orange and low, throwing long shadows across the stone as I run, boots slamming against stone—fast, relentless. Left. Right. Sharp turn. Each step echoes but is quickly swallowed by smoke.
Bren’s place is on the outskirts, clear of the worst of it. But the deeper I go, the hotter it gets. Sweat starts to streak down myface, ash clings to it, gritty and rough, catching in every line of skin.
Behind me, someone screams, but I don’t look back; I just keep running. My breath’s ragged—too fast now, too shallow, scraping in and out like it hurts, as every inhale pulls in more smoke, thick and sour. But I’m not there yet, and at this rate, I don't know if I'll make it.
“Please…” I don’t know if it’s out loud. “Please be okay. Please be okay.”I need to reach Rhiann, Charlie, get them out without getting burned alive in the process.
A searing sting rips across my arm as I clip a collapsed railing, veering hard into what used to be an alley, now nothing but a funnel of smoke and motion. Beside me, buildings blur past—shops, homes—sun-bleached wood eaten by drought, perfect fuel. And shit, it’s catching too fast.
I can hardly see a metre in front of me now, but I know these turns, these corners. Even blind, even choking on ash, I know them. My feet feel half-dead beneath me. Numb toes, aching calves, but I don’t let them. I don’t fucking stop.
Whumph—The air above me buckles.
I duck instinctively, hands flying over my head as wind slams down like something massive just punched through the sky.
A shadow slices the rooftops as I glance up. Wings wide enough to block out half the world. Then a glint of black scales, slick as oil, and a tail trailing behind like a chain carving through the smoke with terrifying speed and grace.
The roar hits a heartbeat later. Deep. Violent. Like it wants to tear something out of me. My chest locks. Thoughts scatter as fire slams into the street ahead with brutal precision, lighting up the stone, devouring doorframes, swallowing wood like it’s nothing.
Hot air floods down the alley, racing towards me, embers spit and whirl—one catches in my sleeve, another in my hair. I swatthem away, blinking through stinging eyes. But I can't stop now, I'm so close.
Straight ahead, left, then left again. I round the last corner fast, air tearing in and out of my lungs like it's trying to outrun the heat behind me and nearly miss the house. Rhiann’s house.
I stumble to a dead stop, chest locking tight, like my body’s rejecting what my eyes are feeding it. No, no, not this. Flames gush from the windows, violent and endless, and the front wall doesn’t just burn—it glows, lit from the inside like the whole place is already hollowed out.
The front door is gone, burned clean off its hinges, leaving the main room wide open to the blaze. Through the smoke, my gaze snags on the floor—Charlie’s medicine bag, half-buried under fallen wood. Rhiann would never leave without it, my stomach lurches, they must still be here.
I go to take a step forward, but my body locks up.
What the fuck am I doing?
I ran all the way here. No plan,no backup. Just boots and panic. Now I’m here, and I can’t go in. I can’t.
It’s too familiar. The way the heat licks at my skin, pulsing off the burning house like a warning, the way the smoke drags like sand through my throat, thick and sour.
I know it too well. Different house. Same fire. Same feeling in my gut.
My Threads twitch, fingers locking tight. If I go in, I might not come out.... If I turn away, I live—but I leave a kid to burn.One choice could kill me. The other kills who I am.
The scar on my hand sears hot—like the doorknob that night. I squeeze my eyes shut and for a heartbeat I’m there again, my mother’s scream swallowed by fire. The cry I couldn’t answer. The one that still claws me awake.
I blink hard, drag myself back. Not this time. Not again. They’re still inside now.
Choose.
“Fuck it, I can do this.” I breathe. Louder, forcing steel into my throat: “I do this.”
“Rhiann!” I scream as I step through into the main room, but the fire devours the sound instantly.
