Chapter 9: Fragments of Fire
956 Words
The rooms fell silent after Irene's words.
“I think that’s what scares me the most.”
Rain continued tapping softly against windows.
Zayn stood quietly in front of her, his gaze fixed on her face.
For the first time since entering the hidden chamber below, he no longer looked at her like she was hiding answers on purpose.
Instead, she looked… lost.
And somehow, that unsettled him more.
Irene slowly sat back down in the chair, avoiding his eyes.
The pain in her leg had dulled slightly after the bandaging, but exhaustion still clung heavily to her body.
She hated this.
Hated sitting here while Zayn looked at her like he was trying to understand her.
Because if he kept looking long enough, he might notice how terrified she really was.
Zayn finally spoke.
“Do you remember anything before the duke found you?”
Irene stiffened slightly.
The question caught her off guard.
“…What?”
“Do you remember your actual parents?” He asked again.
“I don’t know who they were.”That part, at least, was true.
All she remembered was fire.
And fear.
Nothing else.
Zayn studied her expression carefully. Then he asked quietly,
“What’s the earliest thing you do remember?”
Irene frowned slightly.
At first, nothing came.
Then suddenly, a sharp pain pierced through her head.
Her breathing hitched.
Images flickered violently through her mind.
Flames.
Screaming.
Black smoke rising into the sky.
A massive shadow moving through fire.
Run.
The voice echoed sharply inside her head.
Run.
Irene suddenly grabbed the edge of the chair tightly. Her breathing became uneven.
Zayn noticed immediately.
“What’s wrong?”
“I…”
Another flash.
Blood on stone.
A woman crying.
Warm hands pushing her away.
Run.
The whisper inside her mind suddenly returned louder than
before.
“They burned everything.”
Irene flinched violently.
“Stop…”
Zayn frowned.
“Irene?”
Her head hurt.
Too many voices.
Too much noise.
“They lied to you.”
The room suddenly felt colder.
Darkness flickered faintly beneath her sleeve.
Zayn stepped closer instantly.
“Irene.”
She pressed her hands against her head tightly.
“Make it stop…”
The whispers only grew louder.
“Murderers.”
“Traitors.”
“Humans destroy everything.”
“Irene.”
A hand suddenly closed gently
around her wrist. Warm and steady.
Instantly, silence crashed over her thoughts.
The whispers vanished.
Just like before, Irene froze.Her uneven breathing slowly steadied. The darkness beneath her sleeve faded again until only faint traces remained.
Zayn was still holding her wrist.
This time, neither of them pulled away immediately. His eyes narrowed slightly.
“…It disappeared again.”
Irene looked down at their hands silently.
Then quickly pulled away.
The sudden absence of warmth made the room feel colder again.
Neither of them spoke for several seconds.
Then Zayn asked quietly,
“How long has this been happening?”
Irene shook her head weakly.
“I don’t know.”
he continued carefully. “Did you hear the voice inside your head quite often?”
Her silence answered enough.
Zayn exhaled slowly.
Then his gaze shifted toward the faded black lines near her wrist again.
“They react to emotion,” he murmured. “And calm under mana contact.”
Irene frowned slightly.
“You make it sound like research.”
“I’m trying to understand it.”
“That’s worse.”
A faint silence followed.
Then Zayn said something unexpected.
“I don’t think you’re a dark mage.”
Irene’s eyes widened slightly.
“What?”
“Dark mana feels corrupted,” he explained quietly. “Violent. Chaotic.”
His gaze remained fixed on her wrist.
“But yours…”
He frowned slightly.
“…Feels different.”
Irene stared at him. No one had ever said something like that before.
Everyone feared dark mana.
No exceptions.
But Zayn looked confused more than afraid. And somehow, that frightened her too.
A sudden creak outside the room interrupted the silence. Both of them looked toward the door instantly.
Zayn’s expression sharpened.
Someone was outside. The sound disappeared almost immediately. Footsteps. Leaving quickly.
Irene’s chest tightened.
“…Did someone hear us?”
Zayn moved toward the door immediately and opened it.
The hallway outside was empty. But the distant sound of hurried footsteps echoed faintly down the corridor.
His expression darkened slightly. Then his eyes lowered toward the floor near the doorway. Something small had been dropped there.
A silver tray cloth.
Servant uniform fabric.
Zayn picked it up silently.
Irene’s stomach twisted.
Someone had definitely been listening.
Zayn closed the door again.
The atmosphere inside the room changed immediately. He looked far more serious now.
“You cannot let anyone see your wrist again,” he said firmly.
“I know that.”
“No,” he said quietly. “You don’t.”
That made her pause.
Zayn walked toward the desk near the shelves and pulled open one of the old archive drawers. Several documents rested inside.
Ancient records.
Maps.
Noble lineage files.
He searched through them quickly before stopping suddenly.
His eyes narrowed.
Then slowly, he pulled out a worn piece of paper.
Irene frowned slightly.
“What is it?”
Zayn did not answer immediately.
His gaze remained fixed on the symbol drawn across the page.
A black crest.
Curved like intertwining scales.
Her heartbeat stopped.
Because it looked painfully familiar. Almost identical to the faint mark spreading beneath her skin.
Zayn slowly looked up at her.
And for the first time since meeting her tonight,
He looked genuinely shaken.
“…That symbol,” he said quietly.
Silence filled the room.
Then Zayn finished softly,
“It belongs to the Dragon Clans.”
- Writer
