Touch The Fire

8 : Tethered To Ruin

" Her fate was sealed before her first breath—chained to a truth that would one day devour her. "

***

The world explodes around me.

Jake slams into the creature mid swing, knocking it off course with enough force to shake the trees. I stumble back, heart hammering against my ribs, watching them crash to the forest floor in a violent tangle of limbs.

"Don't just stand there!" Justine shouts, hurling a collapsed tree at the thing's head.

It barely flinches.

The thing's movements are sharper now, less silent, more vicious. It claws at Jake, who ducks and blurs in and out of reach, too fast to track with my eyes. Every step he takes kicks up sand and leaves, wind curling behind him like he's dragging a storm in his wake.

Tate appears beside me, bloody and breathing hard. "Do you at least have a dagger?" he snaps, scanning my hands.

"What?"

He curses under his breath and draws one from the sheath at his hip, a blade carved with markings that glow and shimmer like starlight. "This is the only thing that can kill it. Don't lose it. My therapist says I have boundary issues, and that's my favourite dagger."

I barely grab it before he's gone again, charging in to flank the creature.

Dylan's illusions scatter through the trees, five, maybe six of him darting through the underbrush. The thing lashes out, confused by the doubles. One Dylan takes a hit and disappears in a flicker of smoke.

Justine tackles it from behind, pinning its arm for half a second, long enough for Jake to reappear and drive a dagger deep into its side.

It lets out a sound I don't know how to describe.

Not pain. Not rage. Something... older.

It throws them both off, and when Jake hits the ground, he doesn't move.

I don't think. I run. Straight toward it.

It turns toward me again, ember eyes narrowing, reading something in me I don't even understand.

I throw my hands out, power rippling through my blood like fire, and it staggers back under the pressure. But it's not enough. Not nearly enough.

My body shakes from the effort, the energy buzzing inside me fraying at the edges like a wire about to snap. Still, I run. I raise the dagger.

And I strike.

But I miss.

The blade glances off bone, slipping uselessly past its ribs. The creature grabs me before I can react, its clawed hand wrapping around my arm, lifting me off my feet as if I weigh nothing.

I scream, part rage, part terror, as my legs flail. The dagger clatters from my grip, hitting the forest floor.

Everything blurs.

Then suddenly—

Tate.

He charges from the side, a second dagger already in his hand. He leaps up, higher than I think any normal person should, and plunges the blade straight into the thing's neck, the markings glow like iridescent starlight as it burns through its cracked skin.

The creature convulses, shrieking in that horrible, wordless sound and lets me go.

I fall.

Hard.

But I don't hit the ground.

Jake is there.

His arms close around me a split second before impact, steady and fast, his heart thundering against my shoulder.

"You're insane," he growls into my ear. "What were you thinking?"

I can't answer.

Tate pulls the blade free, and the creature collapses to its knees, already turning to ash, its body hollowing from the inside out.

The forest goes quiet.

Dead quiet.

I realise I'm shaking, and not from fear, not entirely. My limbs are burning, my lungs clawing for air, and Jake's grip tightens just enough to keep me upright.

"That was reckless," he mutters. "You could've gotten yourself killed."

"I was trying to help," I manage, voice hoarse.

"You almost died."

"Then maybe someone should've told me there are monsters lurking in the woods around here."

That silences him.

Behind us, Dylan and Justine get back up to their feet, breathing hard, black ichor on Justine's knuckles, Dylan scanning the perimeter like he's still watching something only he can see.

Tate wipes the dagger along the arm of his hoodie, eyeing me like I'm a question he's not sure he wants the answer to.

I clutch my wrist, where the creature grabbed me, already bruising. Jake doesn't let go.

No one says anything, the silence is thick. The kind that usually follows death, or secrets that have been kept too long.

"Well," Tate says, breathless, flipping the now clean dagger in his hand like it's just another prop, "I'm just gonna say it, ten out of ten stab. Someone better have filmed that."

Jake glares at him.

Dylan sighs, dragging a hand down his face like this is a little too familiar.

And I, finally, shove Jake off me.

"Get your hands off me."

He lets go without a word, his jaw tight, his eyes still flashing with frustration.

I round on the rest of them, heart pounding, voice trembling with fury.

"What the hell was that thing?"

They exchange looks. The kind that says they've had this conversation before, like they've been in my position.

I step forward, fists clenched. "And don't you dare say you don't know. I saw you all fight it like it's just another Saturday. And Dylan—" I whirl on him "—I saw your projections. There were three of you, then six. And Tate—what even was that jump? You landed like a f*****g assassin."

Tate bows. "Thank you. Finally, someone appreciates my art."

"Not helping," Justine mutters, smacking his shoulder.

"And you—" I jab a finger at Jake. "You moved like... like you weren't human. Like time just—bent around you."

He doesn't deny it. No one does.

I laugh. Sharp. Angry. "So what, I'm the only one who didn't get the magic family memo?"

"Just to clarify," Tate says, sheathing his dagger. "Only one of us, per family, gets the magic juice. And it's not really a memo. It's more of a curse."

"Gift," Dylan says mildly.

"Curse," Jake snaps. "Don't dress it up. It's not a present. It's a death sentence."

Blood drains from my face.

"What do you mean?"

The silence returns. All four of their eyes flick to each other before landing on me.

"So you weren't lying when you said your dad hadn't told you anything?" Justine steps forward, arms crossed, expression softer now.

I shake my head.

"Our power, our history, our curse, is something you should really discuss with your Dad... Trust me, you don't want to hear it from—"

Justine doesn't finish the sentence.

Because the word curse cracks open something inside me.

It starts behind my eyes. A pressure that blooms into pain. Then a flicker, like someone striking a match inside my skull.

I stagger back, the edges of my vision dimming. "What did you just say?"

They all go still.

I shake my head slowly. "No. No, you don't get to throw that word around like it's casual." My voice is rising. "I've asked. My entire life, I've asked."

Jake doesn't move, but his eyes darken.

"I asked my dad every time something flew off a shelf. Every time I bent metal without touching it. Every time I felt that buzz under my skin that told me I could move the world if I just—" My voice cracks. "And all he ever said was, 'You were born special.' Like that answered anything."

Justine's arms are crossed, her face unreadable. Tate's quiet, for once. Dylan watches me like he's seeing something click into place.

"I may be scared of my power," I say. "But I'm more scared of not knowing why I have it. And now you're standing here, telling me that it's a curse?"

"I wonder why he hasn't told you?" Justine mutters, more to herself, trying to piece everything together.

I let out a bitter laugh. "So I'm not a freak. I'm just the last to be let in on the secret."

Jake finally speaks, his voice low and flat. "We weren't sure if it was you or your sister."

That stings. "What, like it's a game of magical roulette?"

"No." He steps forward, arms tense. "Like it's a curse that chooses. One family member at a time. Until they turn eighteen. And then—"

"Then what?" I ask.

He doesn't answer. Neither does anyone else.

Something hot crawls up my throat. Rage? Panic? I can't tell the difference anymore.

"You knew all along," I whisper. "You've been watching me. Waiting for what, exactly?"

Tate picks up the dagger I dropped, more serious now. "Waiting to see if it passed to you. Powers don't just show up for no reason. They're triggered."

"By what?" I snap.

Dylan looks at me, voice quiet. "By the curse."

The word again. It lands with weight.

I take a shaky breath. "You keep saying that. But no one is explaining what it means."

Justine finally sighs and steps toward me. "Clara... we only know our pieces of it. Your dad, he really should be the one to tell you everything."

I scoff. "Right. The same dad who's been dodging my questions since I can remember. The one who says I don't need to worry about why I'm different, I just need to keep it a secret." I run a hand through my hair. "God, he never even let me train. He made me afraid of using it."

They all exchange another look.

Something passes between them.

And suddenly—flash.

I'm younger. Crying. Glass shattered on the ground. Floating shards in the air.

Dad rushing in. "Don't be scared, Clara. You're okay."

His hand on my forehead.

Repeating something in a language I don't understand.

Another flash.

An old brown leather book, the text glowing like starlight. Screams.

"Forget."

I blink, gasping.

My heart is thudding in my chest.

"I remembered something," I whisper.

Dylan tilts his head. "What?"

"My dad, he didn't just avoid the truth. He made me forget."

Jake's face tightens. Justine's brows furrow.

"He wiped my memory. More than once." I look at them, my voice cracking. "Why would he do that?"

The silence stretches like a wire pulled taut.

No one wants to touch it, the truth, the memory, the c***k that's just split my world apart.

I turn to Jake.

His jaw is locked, his arms crossed like a barricade.

"What happens when we turn eighteen?" I ask.

He doesn't flinch.

But he doesn't answer, either.

The others shift, glance at each other. Even Tate, the king of never shutting up, looks like he's chewing on words that taste like poison.

"Seriously?" I say, stepping closer. "You've all been living in this twisted fairy tale, have had your whole lives to prepare for whatever happens, and now that I know, now that I remember, you still won't tell me?"

Jake's voice is low. "It's not our place."

Wrong thing to say.

"Not your place?" I laugh, but it's all edge and no humor. "I just faced a monster in the woods, watched you all turn into, whatever the hell that was, and nearly died. Don't tell me it's not your place when we just experienced all that lovely trauma together."

The energy builds too fast this time. That buzz under my skin? It explodes.

Leaves spiral upward from the ground like something's breathing beneath the forest floor. Trees groan and shift, fighting to stay rooted to the ground. Twigs rattle across the sand, rising, hovering, my pulse syncing with every tiny motion.

Tate eyes them warily. "Uh, guys—"

"Tell me," I demand, my voice shaking. "What happens when we turn eighteen?"

No one answers.

So the leaves float higher.

I don't even mean to. But it's like my power's on a hair trigger, drawn out by adrenaline and betrayal and this ugly, gut deep fear.

"Clara," Justine says gently, eyes flicking to the sticks orbiting my ankles. "Breathe."

"I am breathing."

But it doesn't feel like it. It feels like I'm drowning in open air.

Jake's eyes finally meet mine, stormy and sharp.

"We vanish," he says.

One word.

Like a gunshot.

The sticks drop midair.

"We what?"

"Whoever has the power," Dylan says softly, "vanishes. On their eighteenth birthday. No body. No goodbye. Just... gone."

Justine swallows hard. "It happened to our older siblings. Aunts. Uncles. Every generation since the curse."

"And it's always the one with the power," Tate adds, quieter now. "Every time."

The words slam into me, and for a second, I forget how to stand.

Jake's the only one who doesn't look away. "I'm assuming that's what your dad didn't want you to know."

I think of my birthday, two months away. The quiet dread that's always lived inside my chest, unnamed. Now it has a name.

I blink back the burn behind my eyes, not because I'm trying to be strong, but because I'm furious. Furious that everyone knew except me. Furious that my own father erased pieces of me. Furious that the clock's been ticking this whole time, and I've been asleep.

"So," I say hoarsely. "We're all just waiting to die."

Jake's voice is low, but certain. "No. We're trying to find our way back."

The words settle into the space between us like a promise. Or maybe a threat. I'm not sure which.

I open my mouth to ask another question, heart still thundering from what Jake just said, trying to find our way back. Back where? What does that even mean? But before the words can form, Dylan suddenly freezes.

His body goes rigid, and his eyes glaze over, pale blue gone distant and glassy. Justine touches his shoulder instinctively. Jake shifts closer too, protective in a way he probably doesn't realise he is.

After a beat, Dylan blinks, clearing the fog from his eyes. "We need to go. People are starting to leave the bonfire. The illusions are still holding, but they're fraying at the edges. I'll make them head to the car park so people don't wander over here."

"I thought you had that covered," Jake says.

"I did." Dylan shoots a quick look toward Tate. "But someone's been slacking. His influence over the party's fading..."

Tate throws up his hands, dagger glinting in the moonlight. "Excuse me for focusing on the Nulvane and the girl levitating the forest instead of mentally babysitting fifty drunk teenagers!"

"I told you to stagger your influence," Dylan mutters, "not dump it all at once then bail."

Tate throws up both arms. "Oh, my apologies, Captain Vision. Maybe if you saw this coming a little sooner, you could've warned me before I ran out of emotional glitter!"

I blink. "Emotional glitter?"

"Don't worry about it," Tate says, dismissing me with a lazy wave. "Just the sparkly little lies I use to keep drunk teens blissfully unaware of eldritch horrors in the woods."

"Guys," Justine warns, her voice low. "Not the time."

Jake exhales harshly and turns toward me. "We're going to Justine's. Now."

"No," I say, power buzzing against my skin. "Not until you tell me what your trying to find your way back to."

They freeze. Even the wind stills around us. My fingers curl into fists. The leaves on the ground rustle, tremble, rise.

"Don't lie to me."

Jake meets my gaze. His jaw clenches, and for a second I think he won't answer.

Then, low and bitter: "Anatheriam."

The name lands like a thunderclap in my chest. Distant. Familiar. Wrong and right all at once.

My breath stutters. Around me, twigs and sand float upward in slow spirals, the air vibrating with something electric and invisible. A thread wrapping around my ribs and pulling tight.

Jake watches the storm forming around me, expression unreadable, but not surprised.

"Clara," Dylan says, nodding toward the thinning tree line. "We need to move. If even one person sees us like this—"

"I've only been here a week," I whisper.

Jake steps forward. For once there's no edge to him, no biting sarcasm or clipped annoyance. He just looks at me, really looks at me, and for a second, I think he's going to say something that might make all of this bearable.

But he doesn't.

His hand twitches at his side, like he wants to reach for me.

He doesn't do that either.

"You're just going to walk away?" I ask, voice tight.

"No," Jake matches my tone. "But we do need to leave."

"Not unless you promise me something first."

They all go still again.

"You want me to come with you?" I say, eyes burning. "Then tell me the minute we leave this forest, you'll tell me everything."

Jake holds my gaze, and I swear for a heartbeat, his expression shifts into something like helplessness. Like maybe he wants to promise, but the words catch on an invisible chain.

He looks away, jaw tightening.

My chest twists.

"Fine," I snap. "Guess that tells me everything I need to know."

"I promise," Justine says, stepping between us, her voice is firm but soft, steady in a way I'm not. "If you come with us, I'll tell you everything we know. No more dodging. No more games."

My body stiffens as she places a hand gently on my arm. "You deserve to know what you're apart of, Clara. What's been done to you, to us."

My throat tightens. "Thank you."

Dylan nods, gaze already shifting back towards the beach. Tate flips the dagger one last time before catching it with a flourish and a smirk.

"Well," he says, voice light but laced with something warmer underneath. "My wish came true."

We all look at him, brows raised and pulled together as he sheaths the last dagger.

"We really get to keep her now." A genuine smile stretches across he face.

Despite everything, I huff out a breath somewhere between a laughs and a sob.

Jake is already walking ahead.

Justine gives me a gentle nudge, and I follow.

We leave the forest behind, but I know the answers waiting for me won't be any easier to face.