Chapter 2 – Sparks in the Dark
The scar-faced enforcer lunged first, swinging a rusted iron pipe. Kiran barely had time to think. Instinct screamed at him, and he ducked. The pipe slammed into the wall, splintering wood.
"Move, boy!" Dael shouted, but Kiran was already moving.
He threw a punch—clumsy but fueled by fury. It connected with the man's jaw, snapping his head back. The brute staggered, shocked more than hurt.
"Little rat's got bite!" another enforcer snarled, pulling a knife from his belt.
Kiran's pulse roared in his ears. The room seemed to shrink, every sound sharpening, every detail burning into his mind. Fear should have broken him, but instead, something deeper stirred.
A heat.
A pressure.
As though fire itself coiled beneath his skin, waiting to break free.
The knife-wielding thug lunged. Kiran raised his arm to block—but before steel touched flesh, the air shimmered. His skin flared with faint, glowing embers.
The blade struck—then bounced away, leaving only a shallow cut.
"What the—?" the thug gasped, eyes wide.
Kiran didn't understand either. His arm burned, but not from the wound. From within. Sparks danced along his veins, tiny motes of light flickering against the darkness of the shack.
"Get him!" Scar-face roared.
All three enforcers charged.
Kiran roared back, raw fury bursting free. His fist swung, and when it landed, the room lit up. A shockwave rippled from the impact, sending one man sprawling into the wall with a crunch of breaking bone.
Miren, who had slipped in through the back door, froze in shock. "Kiran… what the hell was that?!"
But Kiran had no time to answer.
The last enforcer slashed with his knife, grazing Kiran's side. Pain seared him—but instead of weakening him, it stoked the fire. The heat within surged higher, until faint wisps of flame licked across his fists.
His enemies' mocking laughter turned to fear.
Scar-face hesitated, eyes narrowing. "That glow… No. It can't be. The Syndicate will pay dearly for this one."
Before he could flee, Kiran struck again. His fiery punch caught the brute square in the chest, hurling him through the door and into the dirt outside.
The slums fell silent. Neighbors peeked from their homes, staring at the boy standing in the wrecked doorway, fists smoldering with strange fire.
Kiran stood trembling, his breath ragged, his body shaking from exhaustion and shock.
His family stared at him as though he were no longer the same person.
Ayla whispered, her small voice trembling:
"Kiran… are you… a Flameborn?"
Kiran looked down at his trembling hands.
The sparks faded, but the heat remained.
He didn't know what he was.
But he knew one thing—nothing would ever be the same again.