“It was.”
The blunt certainty in his tone makes heat rise in my chest. “I did not burn Garruk.”
“No,” he agrees calmly. “I did.”
The words land like a stone dropped into still water. I stare at him.
“You—”
“He threatened you,” the demon says, as though that alone explains everything.
My mind struggles to keep pace with the conversation. “And the shed? The fire in the square?”
His expression tightens slightly, something thoughtful passing behind his eyes.
“That,” he says, “was both of us.”
A chill spreads down my spine.
“I don’t understand.”
“You do not need to understand yet,” he replies. “You only need to recognize the pattern.”
The fire crackles softly between us. I think of the moment in the square, the way the flames surged with my panic. The way they faltered when I forced myself to breathe. My stomach twists.
“You said it was both of us.”
His gaze sharpens slightly, as though he has been waiting for me to reach this point on my own. The strange thing is, I am not afraid of him. I probably should be, but the fear never comes.
“The bond between us reacts to your fear,” he says.
The words feel impossible.
“What bond?”
His eyes hold mine steadily.
“The one that formed when you called for help.”
“I didn’t call you,” I whisper.
“You did.”
His words make my chest tighten.
“I thought for it to stop,” I say. “That isn’t the same thing.”
“For beings like me,” he says quietly, “it is.”
The room feels smaller with every word.
“You’re saying the fires… they happen because I’m afraid?”
“Yes.”
My stomach drops.
“No,” I say immediately, shaking my head. “No. That isn’t possible.”
