Chapter 6 #2
Then came my ability to see and talk to spirits...
And after that, they either ignored me...
or waited for something to go wrong.
Quietly.
Without a trace.
Or simply looked away whenever I was in danger.
Like in that nightmare.
But the worst part?
For the longest time, I thought that was normal.
Until my younger sister was born.
Adeline.
And I finally saw what love was supposed to look like.
And I hated them even more for it.
For never giving that to me.
Even though they could have.
“The flame flickered,” Airis noted.
“If this were a real fight, that moment of weakness could’ve gotten you killed.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing my hands to stay steady.
“Well, excuse me,” I shot back, “I’m not quite at your level of emotional numbness yet.”
I knew I was pushing it.
But I wanted to hit back.
“Don’t worry, Fireling,” he replied evenly.
“Train long enough, and maybe you’ll keep up.”
I exhaled.
I probably should’ve apologized.
But I wasn’t going to.
“Tell me how your powers first awakened.”
My fingers tightened involuntarily, and the small flame in my hand flared—
tripling in size.
Damn.
And I hadn’t even gotten to the memory yet.
“I know it’s unpleasant,” Airis said.
“It is for everyone. But if you learn to control your emotions through this, everything else will become easier.”
“…Alright,” I said quietly, forcing the flame back to its original size.
“It happened in winter. The day of the first snowfall.”
I paused, swallowing before continuing.
“A girl from my group threw a party—invited me and my friends. There was a lot of alcohol, music... dancing. And honestly, I didn’t hold back.”
I exhaled slowly.
“At some point, a guy I’d liked since school and I got close on the dance floor... and ended up going into one of the empty rooms.”
I felt awkward even saying it.
Especially in front of him.
And it irritated me that I didn’t even understand why.
The flame flickered again—
shrinking slightly this time.
I exhaled, forcing myself back into control.
“Gwendolyn and Mike were just as drunk, so they ended up together too. In the bathroom connected to the room I was in... with him.”
The flame dipped again.
Damn it.
“So...” I cleared my throat, feeling the dryness scratch at it.
“When things escalated with Kevin—when it became intimate—I got too worked up. I felt this heat in my body... and pain in my fingertips...”
I inhaled sharply.
“And I lost control. The fire burst out—onto the bed. Onto him.”
I forced myself not to picture it.
The burning mattress.
Kevin’s scream—
raw, panicked—
as he tried to tear off his burning pants.
“When he started screaming, Gwendolyn and Mike ran out of the bathroom,” I continued, my vision blurring as tears threatened to spill.
“Mike rushed to help Kevin. Gwendolyn saw the fire coming from my hands and dragged me outside.”
Gwendolyn had been scared.
But not surprised.
Like she’d always known talking to the dead wasn’t the limit of what I could do.
“I was hysterical,” I said quietly.
“She had to take control. Snow. Breathing exercises. That’s how we put the fire out. Meanwhile, Mike and Dwayne dealt with the bed and Kevin.”
The flame flared again.
I clenched my fist and extinguished it.
“I’m hopeless,” I said, looking at Airis—
only then realizing the tears in my eyes were gone.
I hadn’t even noticed when they disappeared.
He was watching me.
No irritation.
No pity.
Nothing I expected.
Just seriousness.
And something softer beneath it.
“This still brings up mixed feelings for me too,” he said.
“Even after years of training.”
A pause.
“But you didn’t lose yourself.”
He held my gaze.
“It wasn’t stable. But it didn’t destroy anything. Not this time.”
“Thanks for the encouragement,” I said dryly.
“But don’t treat me like a child who should be forgiven for everything.”
I frowned.
“And don’t downplay your own progress just to make me feel better.”
“Who said I was trying to comfort you?” he raised an eyebrow.
“You,” I shot back.
“When you said you still struggle with your own story.”
I held his gaze, letting the accusation linger.
But instead of reacting—
Airis lifted his hand.
A miniature vortex formed in his palm.
And without breaking eye contact, he began speaking.
“The orphanage I was taken to... was run by fanatics from Butuarus. Obsessed with their air religion.”
The vortex trembled—
just for a split second.
“They forced their beliefs onto children who had no one to defend them.”
Another flicker.
His body was tense now.
Anger.
Controlled—but there.
“One day, during lunch, they were forcing food down my throat—ignoring the fact that I kept throwing it up.”
The vortex stabilized.
“And that’s when it happened.”
He paused.
“I pulled all the air out of the room.”
I froze.
“Everyone started suffocating.”
My throat tightened.
What kind of power does it take—
to strip the air from a room?
At thirteen?
I swallowed.
And how strong is he now?
After all these years?
The vortex dissolved.
Airis slipped his hands into his pockets, tilting his head slightly as he looked at me.
“What about your aim? You said you learned to shoot...”
“I’ve never shot fire,” I cut in, unease rising inside me.
“Then you’ll learn, Fireling.”
He stepped closer.
“In team training, everyone gets assigned a role.”
He moved slowly toward me.
“And based on your abilities—you’ll be an attacker.”
I raised a brow.
“What other roles are there?”
I’d never cared about team sports.
Had no idea how positioning or coordination worked.
“Depends on the team size,” he shrugged.
“Usually five or six.”
He snapped his fingers.
Several targets appeared across the hall—
different sizes, different distances.
The closest was about five meters away.
“Each team has an attacker, defender, support, controller, and tactician. If there are six—there’s a second attacker.”
“And why are you so sure I can’t be a defender?” I tilted my head.
“I made a wall of fire.”
“Because it would be stupid to hide offensive power behind defense,” he said flatly.
I smirked.
“Your first target,” he nodded toward the closest one.
“I can create fire,” I said.
“Not shoot it.”
“Good. Then today you learn.”
He raised his hand again.
A condensed sphere of air formed—
gray-blue.
Without touching it, he flicked it forward.
It struck the smallest, farthest target.
A perfect hit.
I barely had time to react—
before the sphere split midair.
Fragments shot outward—
hitting every other target.
Except mine.
Of course.
“Your turn.”
I exhaled, raising my hand.
A flame appeared—
twice the size of the previous one.
“Now separate it from yourself. Give it space. Let it exist near you—but not as part of you.”
“And how exactly am I supposed to do that?” Irritation crept into my voice.
I hated not understanding.
“Imagine it rising. Then give it a push—physically.”
I tried.
Visualized it.
The flame lifting.
Leaving my skin.
Nothing.
It didn’t move.
At all.
Why was it so easy when I was angry—
like it had a mind of its own—
but now, when I focused—
nothing?
“Focus.”
“It would’ve flown already if you pissed me off right now,” I muttered.
“Then you’ll remain a powerful mage with zero control,” he said calmly.
“You control the fire. Not the other way around.”
******
It felt like six hours had passed.
In reality—
only three.
And nothing had changed.
My fire hadn’t lifted even for a second.
Not even a little.
“Maybe you just saw in me what you wanted to see,” I muttered, dragging myself after him, feeling like I’d just run a marathon—and then somehow squeezed in three Pilates sessions on top of that.
My legs could barely carry me.
“Everything takes time, Fireling.”
“If I had any strength left, I’d tell you exactly how much I hate that nickname.”
“Go ahead, suggest I carry you,” he replied, the mockery in his voice unmistakable.
“I doubt you’re capable of that,” I said thoughtfully.
“That would require being a gentleman.”
“And what do you think I am?”
“You can figure that out yourself.”
I raised a brow, catching him off guard just enough to make him stop.
Then I flipped my hair and kept walking toward the turn.
“The exit’s the other way.”
Without a word, I changed direction, not even trying to show that I’d been thrown off for a second.
“I did carry you on our first day,” he added.
“Because I was injured,” I shrugged.
“Why did you even bring that up?” he asked.
I didn’t slow down.
I simply glanced at him over my shoulder, a smug smile tugging at my lips.
“Why did you fall for it so easily?”
Checkmate.