He hadn't moved since she stepped into the fire.
Not because he feared it would kill her—but because, deep down, he feared it wouldn't.
And he was right.
The flames rose like dragons, licking the air in fury. But when they reached her, they softened. Curled. Embraced.
She stood in the center of the blaze, untouched.
Unburned.
The cursed fire that devoured warriors now bent around a barefoot girl in silence.
She didn't look frightened. Not even surprised. Just calm.
As if she had always known the fire would make room for her.
"You—" he choked, stepping closer, eyes wide. "You're not supposed to survive that."
She turned her face to him, firelight dancing across her skin like gold. "Then maybe I'm not supposed to survive you, either."
He stared, disbelieving. The cursed markings running down his arms began to glow again, reacting to her presence. They had never responded like this before.
The flames should have consumed her. Screamed. Raged.
Instead, they bowed.
"I don't know what you are," he said, voice rough. "But the flame—it listens to you."
"It's not just listening," she said. "It's choosing."
That word sent a chill through him. He'd always believed the curse was alive, yes—but choosing? No. It wasn't merciful enough for that.
"It's never chosen anyone," he muttered. "It only destroys."
Her gaze didn't waver. "Then why hasn't it destroyed me?"
He couldn't answer.
Because deep down, he already knew.
Something ancient stirred behind his ribs—a flicker of memory, or magic, or fate. Something that had slept inside him for so long it no longer had a name.
He tried to deny it. To cling to logic. To curse.
But when she stepped closer, the flames parted around her like loyal guards.
"I tried to kill this part of me," he said quietly. "Buried it. Starved it. It still found ways to burn through everything."
His voice dropped to a whisper. "I watched it take everything I ever loved."
He looked at her—at this impossible girl who didn't flinch.
"And now it bows to you."
"Maybe I'm cursed too," she said, almost gently.
"No," he breathed. "You're worse."
She stilled.
"You're the one thing I can't burn. The one thing I can't destroy. And I don't know if that makes you my salvation…"
He reached for her, but didn't touch.
"…or my undoing."
Her heart was pounding. But not from fear.
She took the last step.
The fire surged. The stone floor cracked beneath them. Magic flared across the walls. But they didn't move.
The chaos passed through them like wind.
Her hand found his chest.
It was the first time anyone had touched him without screaming.
"You're not a monster," she said softly. "You're a man they left to burn."
He didn't move.
Couldn't.
Because for the first time, in the place he feared most, he felt something stronger than fire.
He felt her.
And far beneath the tower, buried in bone and shadow, something ancient opened its eyes.
It had waited for this.
For her.
Now it was awake.
And it remembered everything.