Chapter4
1063 Words
Fire Beneath My Skin
Seraphina’s POV
I didn’t sleep.
I Couldn’t, really.
Not when the scent of ash still clung to my skin. Not every time I closed my eyes, I saw the rogues again, bloodthirsty, twisted, inhuman. Not when the image of Rael standing between me and danger burned behind my eyelids like a second sun.
But what haunted me more was me.
What I did.
I had no weapon. No plan. Just panic and instinct.
And fire.
Fire that burst from my hands like it had a will of its own.
It hadn’t scorched me. It obeyed me.
Witchfire.
I didn’t know how I knew that word, but the moment it left Rael’s lips, something deep inside me shuddered awake. Like the flames had always lived in me, quiet, coiled, waiting.
I stared at my palms now, bare and trembling under the moonlight filtering through the glass window of the guest quarters.
“Where did you learn that spell?” he’d asked.
I hadn’t.
At least, not that I could remember.
But what if there were things I’d forgotten? Or worse, things someone had taken from me?
I turned toward the mirror and studied my reflection like it might offer answers. My silver-blonde hair spilled over one shoulder, tangled from the fight. My emerald eyes looked sharper somehow. Brighter. Haunted.
What am I?
What did he mean by “You don’t know what your blood carries”?
A knock broke the silence.
I turned quickly, heart hammering.
“Come in,” I called, pulse racing.
The door creaked open, and Ivy stepped in, a steaming mug in hand and concern etched across her freckled face.
“You look like hell,” she said gently.
I gave a dry laugh. “I feel worse.”
She handed me the mug, chamomile, if the scent was right and took a seat on the edge of the bed without waiting for permission.
“Rael told me what happened.”
“Did he tell you I turned into a flamethrower?”
She didn’t smile. “He told me you used witchfire. That’s... rare.”
“Rare as in uncommon or rare as in illegal?”
She hesitated.
“That bad, huh?” I whispered.
Ivy sighed. “Magic like that comes from bloodlines. Ancient ones. Fae-touched, mostly. Some think the Nightwinds had it once, but no one’s seen it in generations.”
“And now it’s just... in me?”
“Magic doesn’t just appear. It’s inherited, buried, passed down. It takes something like a powerful trauma, near-death, a trigger, to wake it.”
Like being chased by death wolves.
“Ivy...” I began, “Rael knows more than he’s saying. About me. About my family. The rogues, he recognized their mark. And he knew the spell I cast.”
She looked away. “He always knows more than he says. It’s how he survives.”
“Surviving isn’t living.”
“No,” she agreed. “But sometimes it’s all we get.”
We sat in silence, both of us absorbing truths too heavy to say aloud.
Finally, Ivy stood. “You should rest.”
I nodded, though I knew I wouldn’t.
Before she reached the door, I called out, “Do you believe in fate, Ivy?”
She paused. “I believe in choices.”
Then she was gone.
The next morning
I couldn’t stay locked in that room. I needed air. Movement. Answers.
The hallways were quieter than usual. Guards posted. Eyes sharper. The attack had put everyone on edge.
I slipped past the east wing toward the archives. If Rael wasn’t going to tell me what he knew, I’d find out myself.
The Ironfang archives were carved deep into the mountain, cool, shadowy, and endless. A maze of leather-bound volumes, dusty scrolls, and secrets.
I pulled volumes on werewolf history, bloodlines, the Nightwind legacy. Hours passed. My fingers are stained with ink and dust.
Most entries about the Nightwinds ended abruptly around the time my parents died. But one name came up again and again.
Selene Nightwind.
My grandmother.
High Priestess. Fae-marked. Feared and revered.
There were whispers of a prophecy she tried to destroy.
“When silver and fire meet the broken crown, the balance shall shatter, and the world shall bleed.”
My stomach knotted. Silver and fire. My hair. My powers.
Broken crown. Rael?
Was this why he rejected me?
Because of some ancient curse tied to me?
“Didn’t expect to find you here,” came a deep voice from the shadows.
I jumped, heart skidding. Rael emerged, arms crossed, wearing black like the night itself. His eyes burned gold in the dim torchlight.
“I could say the same,” I said, quickly closing the book in front of me.
“You shouldn’t be alone,” he said. “Not after last night.”
“Not exactly your call, is it?”
He exhaled sharply. “You’re right.”
I blinked. That... wasn’t what I expected.
“You have questions,” he said.
“Only about a thousand.”
He stepped closer. “Ask.”
I opened my mouth, then shut it again, because suddenly I didn’t know where to start.
So I went with the one that mattered most.
“Why did you reject me?”
His jaw tensed.
“Don’t give me the ‘I had no choice’ line again,” I added.
He looked at me for a long moment. “Because claiming you means war.”
“What?”
“Your blood,” he said softly. “It’s tied to a prophecy that kingdoms have tried to bury. If you awaken... if we bond... it could tear this world apart.”
“Or save it.”
“Or destroy it.”
“Don’t I get a say in that?” I asked, stepping closer.
His scent cedar, frost, storm wrapped around me like a drug.
His voice dropped. “I’m trying to protect you, Seraphina.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be protected,” I whispered.
The tension snapped tight. Our eyes locked. His breath hitched.
And then he turned away.
Coward.
But just before he left, he said, “There’s someone you need to meet.”
I stared after him, heart racing. “Who?”
He didn’t answer.
But somehow, I knew everything was about to change.
Again.
- Writer
