Ember Born

Chapter 13: The Fire That Was Coming

The next morning, Jade couldn't stop thinking about the dream. He needed to tell someone, and there was only one person he trusted enough to tell everything.

He found Helen in her backyard, sketching in her notebook like she always did during the long summer break. With college eight months away for both of them, their days had been slow and easy, full of nothing but time.

"Can I tell you something?" Jade asked, sitting down next to her. "Something big. And kind of hard to believe."

Helen closed her notebook. "Okay. I'm listening."

So Jade told her everything. He told her about the flame, and the voice that spoke to him in his dream. He told her about his speed, his strength, and how fast his body healed. He told her about his connection to fire, and about his visions, the ones that had almost cost him his life in that hospital bed. He even told her that the flame had warned him something was coming.

Helen sat quietly through all of it, her eyes wide, but she didn't look at him like he was crazy. She just listened.

When he finished, she let out a slow breath. "That's, wow. That's a lot, Jade."

"I know," Jade said. "I need you to promise me something. Please don't tell anyone. Not your mom, not your friends. Nobody."

Helen reached for his hand. "I promise. Your secret is safe with me. It always has been."

Jade felt something ease in his chest. "Thank you."

"So," Helen said, a small grin creeping onto her face, "can I actually see some of this stuff you're talking about?"

They walked to the neighborhood playground later that afternoon, the same one they'd played at as little kids. It was mostly empty, just a few younger kids on the swings far on the other side.

"Okay," Helen said, crossing her arms. "Show me."

Jade looked around, making sure no one else was close enough to notice. Then he crouched slightly and took off running.

He crossed the entire length of the playground in what felt like less than two seconds, faster than Helen's eyes could properly follow. He skidded to a stop near the fence, turning back to look at her, a little out of breath but grinning.

"Okay, that's actually insane," Helen said, jogging over to him. "Do it again."

He did it again, and then again, laughing more each time as Helen tried, and failed, to catch him on camera with her phone. After that, he showed her his strength, lifting one end of a heavy bench off the ground just a few inches, enough to prove it wasn't a trick.

"Try the fire thing," Helen said, eyes bright with excitement now instead of fear.

Jade hesitated. "I don't really know how to do that one on purpose."

"Just try," Helen said. "Maybe it works like the running. Maybe you just have to want it."

Jade held out his hand, focusing the way he had focused right before sprinting across the playground. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, a small flame flickered to life just above his palm, no lighter, no matches, nothing but his own focus.

Helen gasped. "Jade. That's, that's actually incredible."

Jade stared at the tiny flame, equal parts amazed and unsettled. It didn't burn him at all. It felt warm, familiar, almost like something greeting him after a long time apart.

"I don't know how I'm doing this," he admitted, letting the flame fade out. "But I guess now I know I can."

They spent almost an hour like that, Helen cheering him on as he tested what his body could do, laughing every time something surprised them both. For a little while, it felt less like a dangerous secret and more like something exciting they shared together.

Then, without warning, Jade's whole body went stiff.

The vision hit hard and fast, sharper than most of the small glimpses he usually got. He saw a house, one he recognized immediately, Tyler's house, just two streets over. Tyler was a kid they'd grown up with, someone they'd known since elementary school.

In the vision, smoke poured from an open window. Flames licked up the side of the house. And through the haze, Jade saw Tyler, trapped somewhere inside, coughing, banging on a door that wouldn't open.

Jade snapped back to the present, gasping, stumbling slightly before catching himself.

"Jade?" Helen grabbed his arm. "What's wrong? What did you see?"

"Tyler's house," Jade said, already turning to run. "It's on fire. We have to go, now."

Helen didn't ask any more questions. She just ran alongside him, pushing herself as fast as she could while Jade forced himself to stay close to her instead of sprinting ahead at full speed.

"How much time do we have?" Helen asked between breaths.

"I don't know," Jade said. "The vision didn't tell me that. It just showed me it happening."

They cut through backyards and side streets, taking every shortcut they both knew from years of walking this neighborhood together. Jade's heart pounded, not just from running, but from the fear that they might already be too late.

By the time they turned onto Tyler's street, they could already see the smoke rising above the rooftops.

Jade's stomach dropped. The vision hadn't been a warning about something that might happen. It was happening right now.

Flames were already climbing up the side of the house by the time they reached the front yard, thick black smoke pouring from a broken window. A small crowd of neighbors had already gathered on the sidewalk, some shouting, some already on the phone, all of them staring helplessly at the burning house.

"Has anyone called the fire department?" Jade shouted, pushing through the crowd.

"They're on their way," a neighbor said, "but it's going to take time, they said fifteen minutes at least."

"Where's Tyler?" Jade asked, panic rising in his chest.

The neighbor's face went pale. "He's still inside. His parents aren't home yet. Nobody can get to him, the front door's blocked by flames."

Jade stared at the house, his mind racing. Fifteen minutes. Tyler didn't have fifteen minutes.

Helen grabbed his arm; her eyes wide with fear. "Jade. What are we going to do?"

Jade looked at the burning house, then down at his own hands, hands that could move faster than anyone should be able to, hands that had somehow, impossibly, learned to hold fire without being burned.

He knew what he had to do. He just didn't know if it would be enough.