Chapter 18: What Remains After The Fire
992 Words
The world smelled like ash.
And not the comforting kind—the firepit kind, the forest-at-dusk kind.
This was ruin.
This was death.
Raine opened her eyes slowly, as if waking from a dream she hadn’t been ready to leave. The ceiling above her was crumbling, the wood beams half-charred, snow drifting through holes like falling ash. Her body ached in places she couldn’t name—deep places, like marrow, like soul.
Her mouth was dry.
Her skin burned.
And her thoughts…
They were not all her own.
“He watches you now. Even in sleep. Do you feel how tightly he holds you? As if you might break…”
She tried to sit up. Pain lanced through her chest.
She gasped, and that was when she felt them — arms around her, steady, strong.
Luca.
He stirred, breath catching.
“Hey. Hey, Raine, you’re awake.” His voice cracked, like he hadn’t spoken in hours.
She blinked at him. “Where…?”
“You collapsed. After the outpost. After you—”
He hesitated.
She didn’t.
“I don’t remember.”
Luca frowned. “At all?”
“No.”
She looked down at her hands, flexing them. No blood. No ash. Just skin.
But it felt wrong.
Too tight. Too clean.
Too human.
⸻
The others were quiet that morning. Wren and Silas had gathered near the edge of the ruined grove, speaking in hushed tones over a salvaged map. Two betas kept watch. No fire. No laughter. Just smoke, cold wind, and the distant sound of something howling from the east.
“Can you walk?” Luca asked gently.
Raine nodded. Lied.
She didn’t want to show him how the earth still felt like it moved beneath her feet, or how her pulse beat like two hearts in her chest—one hers, one… something else.
She rose slowly.
His arm stayed around her.
And she let it.
⸻
Wren looked up as they approached. Her eyes flicked over Raine, unreadable.
“She shouldn’t be on her feet.”
“She’s fine,” Luca said, tone flat.
“She burned a dozen wolves to cinders,” Silas said quietly. “And she doesn’t even remember it?”
“No,” Raine said before Luca could cover for her. “I don’t.”
Silas looked like he wanted to say more. Maybe accuse her. Maybe ask her what, exactly, she’d become.
But he didn’t.
He just folded the map and said, “We move by nightfall. The Ember Pack will come looking.”
Wren spoke next, eyes still on Raine. “And if they’re not the only ones?”
⸻
They walked until dusk.
Luca stayed beside her, saying little, watching too much.
Every time Raine stumbled, he caught her. But every time he touched her skin, it sent a spark up her spine — too sharp, too hot. Not like before.
Something had shifted between them.
The bond hadn’t broken.
But it had… changed.
“He feels it too,” the voice said. “The rot. The heat. The way you burn when he touches you. It isn’t love anymore. It’s hunger.”
She shoved the thought away.
But it stayed.
Buzzing at the base of her skull.
⸻
When they made camp in a hollow between the trees, Raine sat apart from the others. Not far. Just enough. She needed space.
Luca brought her water.
“You’ve been quiet.”
“I’m tired.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m scared.”
That made him pause.
He sank down beside her, stretching his legs in the snow, not touching her this time. The cold between them might’ve been miles.
“You’ve never said that before,” he murmured.
“I’ve never meant it before.”
They sat in silence, the wind rattling dead leaves in the trees.
Then Raine spoke again. “What did I look like? At the outpost?”
He turned to her slowly.
“You don’t want to know.”
“Tell me anyway.”
Luca stared at his hands. “Your eyes were white. Not glowing — white. Blank. Like you weren’t in there anymore. And your skin… it looked like it was lit from the inside. Veins like silver wire. And your voice…”
She waited.
“You didn’t speak in words I understood,” he said at last. “But I felt them. Like they were inside my head.”
She shivered. Not from cold.
From recognition.
She’d heard it too.
“You opened the door, Raine. You let me in.”
She clutched her knees.
“I’m afraid of what I’ll do next time.”
“There won’t be a next time.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I won’t let it happen.”
She looked at him sharply. “You can’t stop it. You couldn’t stop me at the outpost. You’re not stronger than this, Luca.”
His jaw clenched.
She softened her voice. “Neither am I.”
He reached for her hand. She didn’t pull away.
“I’m not giving up on you.”
“Even if I’m not me anymore?”
His voice dropped to a whisper. “Especially then.”
⸻
That night, she dreamed.
But it wasn’t hers.
She stood in a stone room, lit by candles that bled black wax. The air smelled of herbs and wet earth. Symbols covered the floor — older than language. The woman in the room looked like her. But older. Paler. Her hair long and silver. Eyes like ink.
She was chanting.
Blood pooled in a bowl.
Then she looked up.
Right at Raine.
And smiled.
“I’ve been waiting for you, child.”
Raine screamed.
And woke up gasping, heart hammering in her throat, hands clutching earth.
Luca jolted awake beside her. “Raine—?”
She turned to him, eyes wide.
“They’re not just memories,” she whispered. “They’re instructions.”
- Writer
