Seraphina's POV
The crossbow bolt whistled past my ear so close I felt the wind of it.
I hit the ground hard, rolling behind a stone bench as Cassia fired again. The bolt struck where my head had been a second ago, cracking the stone.
"Stop!" I screamed. "Cassia, please! Let me explain!"
"Explain?!" Her voice was raw with grief and rage. "You murdered my family! You burned my little brothers alive! There's nothing to explain!"
She advanced, reloading with hands that shook—not from fear, but from fury. The burn scars on her face looked angry in the firelight from the courtyard torches. Scars that matched mine. Scars from the fire that destroyed everything.
Captain Ironheart stepped between us, his mechanical body whirring. "Lower your weapon."
"Get out of my way, tin man!" Cassia's eyes were wild, desperate. "She deserves to die!"
I peeked over the bench, my heart breaking. This was Cassia—my best friend since we were five years old. We'd shared secrets, played in the creek behind our houses, promised we'd be friends forever.
Now she wanted to kill me.
"I didn't start that fire!" I shouted. "I swear! My aunt—"
"LIAR!" Cassia fired again.
This time, Finn appeared from nowhere, tackling her from the side. They crashed to the ground, the crossbow sliding across the courtyard.
"Enough!" Adrian's cold voice cut through the chaos. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed. "If you want to kill someone, do it outside. I just cleaned this courtyard."
"Adrian!" Vesper snapped at him.
But his words made Cassia pause. She looked around at all of us—Ironheart's mechanical body, Finn pinning her down, Vesper's masked face, Adrian's cold stare. And me, hiding behind a bench like a coward.
"You're all protecting her," Cassia whispered. Tears streamed down her scarred face. "Why would you protect a murderer?"
"Because she's not a murderer," Vesper said gently. "The Inquisition lied to you, Cassia. They lied to everyone."
"No." Cassia shook her head violently. "No, the Inquisitors said—"
"The Inquisitors killed our families!" I stood up, my hands shaking. "My aunt Evangeline ordered the attack! I saw her murder my parents! I was just a kid, and my magic exploded because I was terrified. I didn't mean to hurt anyone!"
Cassia stared at me. For a moment, I saw doubt flicker in her eyes.
Then it hardened again. "You're lying. You always were a good liar, Sera."
She shoved Finn off and ran—sprinting toward the manor gates before anyone could stop her.
"Let her go," Adrian said when Ironheart moved to follow. "She'll either believe the truth eventually, or she'll come back with reinforcements. Either way, we have bigger problems."
He was right. But knowing Cassia hated me—knowing my best friend wanted me dead—felt like a knife in my chest.
"Come on," Vesper said softly, putting a hand on my shoulder. "You need rest. Training starts tomorrow."
Tomorrow came too fast.
Captain Ironheart woke me before sunrise. "Combat training begins now."
I groaned but dragged myself to the courtyard. My body still ached from yesterday, but Ironheart didn't care.
"Hit me," he said, standing perfectly still.
I swung my fist. It connected with his metal chest with a CLANG that hurt my knuckles.
"Pathetic," he said without emotion. "Again."
I tried twenty more times. Each punch hurt worse than the last. Finally, I collapsed on the ground, gasping.
"I can't do this!"
"Then you'll die." Ironheart's blue eye stared down at me. "The Inquisition won't go easy on you because you're tired. Get up."
Something in his voice—the absolute certainty that I would fail—made me angry. I shoved to my feet and swung again, putting all my frustration behind it.
This time, my fist burst into flames.
The fire connected with Ironheart's chest, and he actually stumbled backward.
I stared at my burning hand in shock. "I—I didn't mean to—"
"Good," Ironheart said, straightening. "Use that. Anger makes you strong."
The flames died as quickly as they'd appeared.
For the next week, training consumed my life. Ironheart taught me to fight—how to punch, kick, block, dodge. I got knocked down constantly, earning new bruises every day. But I refused to quit.
Finn taught me about poisons, disguises, and lock-picking. "Being sneaky is just as important as being strong," he said with his usual grin. "Plus it's way more fun!"
Adrian taught me the hardest lessons—how to lie convincingly, how to read people's faces, how to plan ahead. "The Inquisition is powerful," he said coldly. "You can't beat them with strength alone. You have to be smarter."
But the magic training was the most frustrating part.
No matter what I did, I couldn't make the flames appear on command. Vesper tried meditation techniques, breathing exercises, visualization. Nothing worked.
"It only happens when you're angry or scared," Vesper said, sounding worried. "That's dangerous, Sera. You need control."
"I'm trying!" I wanted to scream with frustration.
One evening, exhausted and angry after another failed attempt, I sat alone in the garden behind the manor. The moon was full, casting silver light over everything.
I thought about my parents. About Cassia hating me. About Lucian locked in an Inquisition prison, probably being tortured. About how weak and useless I was.
The rage built inside me like a volcano. My hands clenched into fists, my breathing got faster, and I felt something hot burning in my chest—
WHOOSH!
Flames exploded from my hands, scorching the grass around me. I yelped and tried to put them out, but they spread to a nearby tree. The fire climbed the branches, getting bigger and hotter.
"No, no, no!" I waved my hands frantically, which only made it worse.
Suddenly, Lucian appeared beside me—moving so fast I didn't see him coming. He held up his own hands, and silver flames poured from his palms. His fire was huge and completely controlled, flowing like water.
His silver flames consumed mine, eating them up until both fires vanished.
I stared at him in shock. "You—you have fire magic too?!"
Lucian's face was tense, his silver eyes glowing in the darkness. "Yes. I'm a Flamebringer, just like you."
"But you said Flamebringers were extinct!"
"I said they were supposed to be extinct." He sat down heavily on a stone bench, suddenly looking tired. Looking human instead of cold and perfect. "Thirty years ago, the Empire hunted down every Flamebringer they could find and executed them. My parents were killed when I was twelve. I survived by hiding what I am—suppressing my magic so completely that I almost forgot I had it."
"Why?" I sat beside him, my heart pounding. "Why would they kill all the Flamebringers?"
"Because we were too powerful." His voice was bitter. "Flamebringers were once the royal family's protectors—the Phoenix Guard. But there was a coup. The new rulers didn't want anyone around who could challenge them. So they declared us dangerous and wiped us out."
He turned to look at me, and his expression was softer than I'd ever seen it. "That's why your magic explodes when you're emotional. Someone suppressed it when you were young, probably to protect you. But now it's waking up, and you have no control. We need to fix that before you accidentally burn down my entire estate."
"I'm sorry—"
"Don't apologize." He cut me off firmly. "Your power isn't something to be ashamed of. It's something to be mastered. And I'm going to teach you how."
For the first time since I'd met him, Lucian smiled at me—a real smile, not his usual cold smirk. It made him look younger, almost kind.
My heart did a strange flutter.
"Tomorrow," he said, standing. "We begin real training. Be ready."
He started to walk away, then paused. "Sera? You're stronger than you think. Stop doubting yourself."
I watched him disappear into the manor, warmth spreading through my chest that had nothing to do with fire magic.
Maybe—just maybe—I could do this.
I was walking back to my room when I heard the crash.
It came from the library—glass shattering, someone shouting. I ran toward the sound, my heart racing.
The library door hung open. Inside, books were scattered everywhere, and the window was broken.
Adrian stood in the middle of the mess, his face pale, holding a blood-stained letter.
"What happened?" I gasped.
He looked at me, and I'd never seen him scared before. But now his gray eyes were wide with fear.
"They moved up the execution," he whispered. "Evangeline announced it an hour ago. Lucian dies tomorrow at dawn."