Part One: Rising Flames
The early morning haze barely masked the sprawling city beneath the Igan Tower, the skyline gleaming with the promise of another day. But for Ikris, dawn was no longer a symbol of peace—it was a countdown. Every moment was borrowed time.
Inside the penthouse, Ikris poured over the files they'd extracted from the abandoned facility. Digital records, emails between executives, and coded project notes—each revealing the chilling truth behind Project Ignis.
"Look at this," Lyssa said, pointing at the screen. "The initial subjects weren't just children; some were family members… including your little brother."
Ikris's breath caught.
His injured younger brother, barely able to walk after a mysterious accident months ago, had been more than just collateral damage. He was part of the experiments—an unwilling participant in the family's cold ambitions.
Sevik leaned in, face grim. "They manipulated his recovery, controlled his treatment, even tracked his progress through the same secret network."
"This is why he's isolated," Ikris whispered. "They don't want him speaking, or worse, remembering."
A sudden buzz interrupted them—a secure message from an unknown contact.
Lyssa opened it cautiously.
A video played. A man's shadowy figure, voice distorted:
"You think you've found the truth? You've only scratched the surface. The Igan family's power is built on fire and blood, but some flames are meant to stay buried. Stop now, or you risk losing everything—including those you love."
Ikris's hands trembled. "They're tightening the noose."
Sevik stood, moving to the window. "We need to protect your brother. And fast."
Lyssa nodded. "The only way out is deeper in. If we can't trust your family, we'll have to find allies elsewhere."
Ikris gripped the katana's hilt, flames flickering along the blade. "Then we keep fighting. No matter the cost."
Later that evening, the group prepared to move again. Every contact, every step was shadowed by danger. The safe house was no longer safe.
The city's underbelly awaited them—a world of black markets, underground informants, and the kind of people who thrived in the darkness.
As they slipped through back alleys and neon-lit streets, Ikris's mind raced. His power felt like a wildfire—sometimes unpredictable, sometimes uncontrollable.
But tonight, he vowed to master it.
Part Two: Everyday Sparks
In the quiet moments between danger, life tried to find its rhythm.
Back at the small apartment they'd rented temporarily, Sevik brewed coffee in the cramped kitchen, the aroma filling the air like a rare luxury.
"I'm telling you, this place could use a decent espresso machine," he joked, handing a cup to Ikris.
Ikris took the coffee gratefully, the bitter warmth grounding him. For a moment, they were just friends sharing a simple ritual, not warriors in a hidden war.
Lyssa sat cross-legged on the couch, scrolling through her phone, occasionally pausing to flick her fingers and summon a tiny breeze that fluttered papers on the table.
"Normal life's a strange thing," she mused aloud. "We fight for survival one minute, and the next, we're talking about the city's best ramen spots."
Ikris chuckled softly. "Maybe that's the point. You fight to protect the moments like this."
The evening stretched on with small talk and laughter—moments stolen from a world that refused to slow.
Sevik shared stories from his past, revealing layers beneath his stoic exterior. He'd grown up in the city's toughest neighborhoods, learning early that trust was earned with blood and sweat.
Lyssa teased him about his obsession with cleanliness, making Ikris laugh.
And Ikris, for once, felt the burden lift, even if just for a little while.
Later, as Ikris sat by the window, he watched the city lights blink against the dark sky.
The katana rested against the wall—a symbol of everything he fought for and everything he stood against.
His phone buzzed—a message from his younger brother.
"Stay safe. I'm counting on you."
Ikris smiled faintly, the fire inside him burning brighter than ever.