Ash clung to the village like a second skin. The remnants of the fire—blackened beams, scorched thatch, cracked stone—stretched across what used to be the center of life. Now it was silent. The air was heavy, not with smoke anymore, but with the weight of unspoken blame.
Ivyra stood outside what little remained of her home—if it could even be called that. A hastily rebuilt shelter of branches and mud, a flickering fire inside, and the steady breath of her mother sleeping fitfully within. The villagers had kept their distance since the flames died. Eyes followed her from behind cracked shutters. Lips moved with whispers, always when her back was turned.
Lyxra lounged beside her in his smaller form, tail twitching like a cat sensing danger. His eyes never stopped watching.
"They think you're the spark," he said with a snort. "Funny, since you didn't light anything. Not yet."
Ivyra didn't respond. Her eyes were fixed on the gray sky above. She felt the storm returning—not the weather, but the tension. The way silence twisted into fear. The way fear turned to hate.
Serren had passed by once that morning. She'd hesitated, eyes down, then dropped a small bundle of herbs near the edge of Ivyra's shelter. She said nothing. Ivyra hadn't picked them up.
She didn't need pity.
She needed power.
---
It was near dusk when the unexpected happened.
Soft footsteps padded across the burnt earth. Ivyra's senses sharpened. Lyxra growled low. A shadow emerged from the treeline.
A child. Small. Maybe six years old. Pale blue dress smudged with soot, her shoes missing, and a burnt flower clutched in one hand.
Lyxra stood instantly, bristling.
"Who—"
"Wait," Ivyra said quietly.
The girl looked up at her with wide brown eyes. Not a trace of fear. Only awe.
"Are you the star-lady?" she asked.
Ivyra blinked. "What?"
"You fell from the sky, right?" The girl held up the flower. "I saw the light the night you came. I think you made the thunder stop."
Lyxra cocked his head. "She's not wrong."
The girl took another step closer.
"This is for you. It's the last flower from the garden behind my house. Everything else burned. But this one didn't. Mommy said it means something."
Ivyra stared at the flower. It was blackened at the edges but still clung to some life. Like it refused to die.
The child offered it up with both hands.
"My name's Naia. You're not scary. Just sad."
Something shifted in Ivyra's chest. A crack in the wall she'd built around her heart. It wasn't kindness she felt—it was confusion.
"Why aren't you afraid of me?"
Naia tilted her head. "You saved your mommy. That's what heroes do. And your eyes… they're pretty. Like stars."
For a long time, Ivyra said nothing. Then she reached out slowly and took the flower.
"Thank you, Naia."
Naia beamed.
Behind her smile, though, was a name Ivyra heard in passing.
Naia… the village chief's daughter.
---
Later that night, Ivyra sat by the fire inside her hut. The flower lay beside her. Lyxra had curled around her mother's side like a shadowy guardian.
"You hesitated," he said.
"She's just a child."
"And?"
"...She looked at me like I wasn't a monster."
Lyxra said nothing more. But he didn't need to.
---
The next day, the whispers spread.
The chief had yelled. His daughter had disobeyed. But his wife had stopped him.
Some villagers began questioning. What if Ivyra wasn't cursed? What if she really did save her mother? What if the fire wasn't her doing?
Others doubled down. Witch. Danger. Devil-child.
Ivyra walked through it all with silence.
Naia waved at her again that evening. She smiled. And for the first time, Ivyra gave a faint nod back.
---
That night, the dream returned.
She stood in a field of ash under a sky without stars.
A figure loomed ahead—shifting, blurry, like a shadow too ancient to hold form. Its voice was neither male nor female. Just… presence.
> "You chose restraint. Curious."
> "You would've killed for less, once."
> "Is your fire cooling… or merely waiting?"
She stepped forward. "Who are you?"
> "I am the one they locked away. The truth they buried."
> "But you… are my voice."
The seal on her chest glowed faintly.
> "The gods see you now, Ivyra. And they tremble."
She woke with a sharp inhale.
Outside, rain had begun to fall. And in the soft mist, she heard Naia's laugh as the girl danced barefoot in the storm.
The flower still lay beside Ivyra.
And this time… she picked it up and pressed it to her chest.