...the front door creaked open...
Sai stood there. [holding her bag in one of his hand]
The evening light framed him in the doorway, but his expression was darker than usual — his eyes fixed on the glowing object immediately.
Sai (low, urgent): You touched it.
Aanha: It— it reacted on its own! I didn't mean to—
Sai stepped forward quickly, the playful calm gone from his voice.
Sai: That's not just a fragment. It's a core shard — a piece of what they sealed long ago.
Aanha: …Sealed?
Sai nodded once, eyes on the sigil. "And now that you've awakened it, it's bound to you."
Aanha: Bound— what do you mean bound?!
He looked up at her then, his gaze heavy.
Sai: It means the fire inside you isn't yours anymore. It belongs to something far older… and far more dangerous.
The shard pulsed again, as if in agreement.
Aanha [stepped back, shaking her head]: You're saying this thing— it's alive?
Sai (grimly): Alive… and waiting.
The lights flickered. The air thickened for a heartbeat — and then the shard went dark, the sigil vanishing as though it had never been there.
Only the faint smell of smoke lingered in the air.
Sai exhaled slowly, looking at her with a mix of concern and resolve.
Sai: You've crossed the line now, Aanha. There's no hiding anymore. You shouldn't have touched it.
Aanha [swallowed hard, her voice small]: …Then what do I do?
Sai's eyes softened just a little. "For now? You learn what it means to hold fire that remembers."
The glow from the shard had faded, but the memory of its warmth still tingled in Aanha's palm. She looked at Sai — part of her angry, part of her scared, and part of her wanting answers she wasn't sure she could handle.
Aanha: So what now? You're just going to say it's 'bound' and expect me to accept that?
Sai sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his usual smirk nowhere to be seen.
Sai: No. You don't have to accept it. But you need to understand it. Because if you don't, it'll consume you.
He gestured toward the yard. "Come with me."
Reluctantly, Aanha followed him outside. The evening air had cooled, the forest quiet except for the chirp of crickets and the whisper of leaves.
Sai knelt, tracing a small circle in the dirt with his finger. "Everything alive holds a kind of energy. Some call it mana, others spirit. Yours… is fire."
Aanha [folded her arms, skeptical]: And yours is water and wind, right?
Sai [nodded]: Yeah. But what you have—it's different. The fire inside you isn't just elemental. It remembers things. People. Events. Like it's alive.
Aanha [frowned]: You said that before. 'Fire that remembers.' What does that even mean?
Sai looked up at her, his eyes reflecting the dim orange glow of dusk. "It means that when it burns, it doesn't just destroy. It remembers what it touches. What it consumes."
He stood and stepped back. "Now focus. Close your eyes. Try to feel where the warmth starts — not on your skin, but inside. Breathe slowly."
Aanha hesitated, then did as he said. At first, there was only the sound of wind and her heartbeat. Then… something deeper. A faint hum. A spark — like a pulse under her ribs.
Her breath caught. The warmth spread gently, not wild this time, but controlled. The air shimmered faintly around her fingertips.
Sai [nodded approvingly]: Good. You're syncing with it.
Aanha: It feels… calm. Like it's listening to me.
Sai's expression softened, "It's never listened to anyone else before."
Before she could ask what he meant, the wind shifted sharply — colder, unnatural. The trees around them swayed though the air was still.
Aanha opened her eyes. The shard she'd left inside on the table was glowing again — even through the window, its faint red pulse reflected across the yard.
Aanha (nervous): Sai…?
Sai's gaze snapped toward the house. "Stay here."
He took a step, but then froze mid-motion. His eyes narrowed. "No… this isn't the shard reacting."
Aanha felt it too then — a pressure, distant yet heavy, like eyes watching from somewhere far beyond the hill.
The glow from the shard flickered — once, twice — and then steadied, as if answering a call.
Aanha: It's… responding to something.
Sai [jaw tightened]: "Someone." and previously it was alerting you
The air crackled faintly, and a whisper drifted through the yard — faint, but unmistakable.
"The vessel has awakened… prepare the retrieval."
Aanha's blood ran cold.
She turned toward Sai, panic rising. "W-What was that?! Who said that?!"
Sai's eyes were hard now, focused on something far beyond the forest.
Sai (quietly): "We're out of time."
He turned to her, his tone urgent. "Pack what you need. You're not staying here tonight. We are leaving"
Aanha blinked at Sai, still half-frozen in disbelief.
Aanha: Wait—leave? Now?!
Sai didn't waste a second. His sharp gaze swept over the dimly lit yard, every muscle in his body alert. The faint hum of energy still lingered from where the shard had pulsed moments ago.
Sai (firm): They've traced you. That voice you heard just in your head— If we stay, they'll find you.
Aanha (shaken): But my mom—she'll come looking for me!
Sai: She won't find this place tonight. The paths will fold; they always do when The Veil begins the hunt.
Aanha's chest tightened. The thought of her mother coming home to an empty house twisted her stomach. "You mean—she'll think I'm missing?"
Sai didn't answer. Instead, he reached into his pocket and scattered fine, glimmering powder over the scorched patch of earth. A faint distortion rippled outward, like heat over stone.
Aanha (watching): What… is that?
Sai: A concealment field. Makes this place look untouched. But it won't last long, so pack fast.
Aanha hesitated, then ran inside. The house was still, too still. Her heart pounded as she grabbed her bag, shoving in a few clothes, her phone, and a photo frame of her and her mom at the market. She lingered on it for a second before whispering—
Aanha (softly): I'll come back.
She slung the bag over her shoulder and rushed outside. The night had deepened, mist curling around the trees like smoke. Sai was already waiting by the gate, the wind stirring faintly around him.
Aanha (panting): Where are we going?
Sai: Somewhere they can't find you. Not yet. Downhill, to the river valley. There's a place they can't trace—at least, not easily.
Aanha (nervous): That sounds like something you say before it gets worse.
Sai glanced at her, a faint, humorless smirk on his lips. "You're learning fast."
Then he raised his hand, and the air thickened. Aanha's hair lifted with the wind swirling around her feet.
Aanha (wide-eyed): Sai—what are you doing?
Sai (focused): Getting us out before they close in.
The wind surged — and suddenly, the ground was gone. Aanha gasped as they rose, carried by an unseen current. Below them, the forest blurred into a sea of black and silver.
Aanha (clutching his arm): Sai! We're flying!
Sai (calmly): Gliding. Don't distract me.
Despite the panic in her chest, a shaky laugh escaped her. But then she saw it — shadows moving fast below them, darting across the treetops.
Aanha (trembling): Sai… there's something—
Sai (grim): I see them.
The wind tightened like a shield around them, pushing harder, faster. The dark figures below followed effortlessly, leaving trails of flickering light in their wake.
Sai: Hold on.
The air roared. The forest vanished beneath them in a blur of motion and wind.
But even through the rush, Aanha heard it — a faint, echoing voice, inside her head:
"The vessel is active. Initiate retrieval."
Her eyes widened. "Sai—! They're in my head—"
Sai (through gritted teeth): Ignore it! That's how they mark their target. Just stay with me.
The gorge appeared ahead, the river glinting faintly in the moonlight. Sai's magic coiled tighter around them.
Sai: Almost there.
A burst of pressure hit the air behind them — dark energy slicing through the wind — but Sai twisted his wrist, redirecting the current into a roaring gust. The strike missed by inches, vanishing into mist.
The world snapped back into focus, and they landed hard on solid ground. The rush of magic faded, leaving only the night sounds of crickets and running water.
They were on the other side of the gorge. Hidden.
Aanha stumbled to her feet, breathing hard.
Aanha: They're not following?
Sai's eyes scanned the far ridge. The figures had stopped at the edge, watching silently.
Sai: No. They can't cross this boundary.
Aanha: Why not?
He turned toward her, voice lower now, serious.
Sai: Because this is the old ward line. A remnant of the first elemental barrier. The kind that was built to hide people like you.
Aanha swallowed, trying to steady her breath. "So… what now?"
Sai looked past her toward the faint shimmer of the river. His tone softened, but only slightly.
Sai: Now we survive the night. And tomorrow, you start learning what they're really after.
The wind stirred again, brushing gently past her shoulder — not cold this time, but steady. For the first time since the flames, she felt a flicker of something beneath her fear.
Not safety. But maybe… belonging.