The One Who Lit the Match
961 Words
The name burned on the mirror like a brand from Hell: Lucien Black.
A man whose smile masked a serpent’s soul.
The one who locked the doors the night the house caught fire.
The one who poured the gasoline and blamed it on “faulty wiring.”
The one who ended their lives… and unknowingly awakened them.
Kael and Kira stood on a rooftop overlooking the city, the air sharp with midnight wind. The mirror hovered before them, glowing blood-red.
“He wasn’t just trying to scare us,” Kael muttered. “He meant to kill us.”
Kira’s fists clenched. “And he almost did. But Hell gave us a second chance.”
Kael’s voice dropped. “Now we give him a final one.”
Lucien Black had vanished after the fire. His record vanished. His name scrubbed from every file. The system buried his existence like rotten meat under clean sheets.
But the fire remembered.
The mirror knew.
They found him in an underground club deep in the city’s shadows, where the rich bathed in secrets and no one asked questions. He was laughing at a table surrounded by empty souls—people who drank poison smiles and sold silence for favors.
He wore a silk suit now. He looked untouched, unrepentant.
Kael stepped out of the shadows first.
Lucien blinked. His drink paused mid-air. “Do I… know you?”
Kira followed.
He stared, confused.
Then—recognition.
Then—fear.
“Impossible,” he whispered.
“We remember the fire,” Kael said, voice low.
“The smoke in our lungs,” Kira added.
“The door that wouldn’t open.”
Lucien stood quickly, panic in his eyes. “You—You died!”
Kael’s blade hissed into existence, coiled in red flame.
“Exactly.”
The club warped around them.
Walls melted. Lights exploded into sparks. Music stopped mid-beat, replaced by a low, distant growl—like Hell clearing its throat.
Lucien backed away, knocking over a chair. “What are you?”
Kira raised the mirror. “We’re your consequences.”
It began to spin.
This time, the memories were raw.
Lucien standing outside the house.
A lighter in his hand.
His eyes—empty.
He lit the fire like it was a game. A dare. A way to erase the “problem children.”
“They said we were too much trouble,” Kael said. “You said we were cursed.”
“You called us demons,” Kira whispered.
Lucien’s voice cracked. “I—I didn’t mean to kill you. I just… wanted you gone.”
Kael stepped forward. “Congratulations. You got both.”
The mirror cracked, sharp and loud.
Lucien screamed as it showed him what could have been—two kids growing up with a chance. Laughter. Safety. A future.
Then it turned, showed what he made instead.
Ashes.
Screams.
Twins reborn in fire and fury.
“I was told to do it,” Lucien yelled. “They promised me money! A fresh start! I was just the hand!”
“Then you’re the hand we cut off,” Kael said coldly.
The fire surged.
Chains of flame erupted from the floor, binding Lucien.
He writhed, begged. “Please. I have a wife now. A kid. I’ve changed—”
“So did we,” Kira snapped. “But only after we burned.”
Kael raised the blade.
But Kira hesitated.
She stared at Lucien—his pale face, his tears, his fear.
She whispered, “We said we weren’t monsters.”
Kael faltered.
Lucien screamed, “Please! Mercy!”
The mirror flickered.
Kira clenched her fists. “You don’t deserve mercy. But you do deserve to remember.”
She lowered the mirror to his chest—and pressed it against him.
Lucien convulsed.
The fire didn’t consume him.
It branded him.
Memories poured into his soul like molten guilt—every moment he tried to forget. Every lie. Every betrayal. The pain of every child he harmed.
He collapsed, twitching, eyes open wide—now haunted by the truth he could never unsee.
“You’ll live,” Kael said. “But never peacefully.”
“You’ll carry the mirror inside you,” Kira whispered. “And every time you sleep, you’ll burn.”
Lucien wept, curled on the floor like a dying animal.
The flames died down.
Kael looked at Kira. “That was… mercy?”
She nodded slowly. “The cruel kind.”
They left the club in silence.
Outside, the rain began again—soft this time, as if the sky pitied the earth.
Kael looked at the mirror.
It had changed.
The cracks were fading.
The flames inside were… quiet.
“I think,” Kira said softly, “we’re almost done.”
Kael turned to her. “Then why does it feel like something worse is coming?”
Kira didn’t answer.
Because she felt it too.
Not behind them—but ahead.
Not a name from the mirror.
But a force older than fire.
Older than them.
And it was waiting.
That night, they returned to the burned ruins of their childhood home.
Ash and memory.
Kael touched the charred wall. “This is where we ended.”
“And where we began,” Kira said.
The ground beneath them cracked.
From the earth, a figure rose.
Tall.
Wrapped in fire and shadows.
Not the Keeper.
Something far worse.
The voice was not a sound—but a weight.
“You have fed well,” it said. “Now the time has come.”
Kael raised his blade. “Who are you?”
The being smiled.
“I am the flame that made you. The source of your rebirth. And now… you are mine.”
- Writer
