The whispers had followed Finlee her entire life. “Cursed girl,” they murmured behind closed doors, “The one who burned her own blood.” It didn’t matter that she was too young to remember the inferno that swallowed her parents—it shaped her nonetheless.  

 

Raised in the cold arms of distant relatives, Finlee learned early that kindness was conditional, and fear was currency. She knew she was different. When anger pulsed through her veins, the flickering candles grew into roaring flames. When sadness gripped her, the wind howled in despair.  

 

But it was when cruelty touched her—when fists bruised her skin and laughter mocked her pain—that she discovered her true power.  

 

It happened on the mud-streaked playground, when another blow knocked her to the ground. The world slowed. Something deep inside cracked open. A force she had barely understood surged forward, demanding release.  

 

The air thickened. Shadows twisted unnaturally. The dirt beneath them trembled, sending a chill through the gathered tormentors.  

 

“I’ve had enough,” Finlee whispered.  

 

And in that moment, she unleashed herself.  

 

A shriek tore through the air as the bullies were thrust backward by an unseen force. Their screams drowned beneath the roar of crackling embers, their wide-eyed terror reflecting in the swirling, crimson flames that erupted from Finlee’s outstretched hands.  

 

She watched them stumble, watched fear twist their faces in the same way it had twisted hers for years.  

 

For the first time, she felt powerful. She felt whole.  

 

She felt untouchable.  Finlee stood amidst the smoldering ruin of the playground, her breath rising in ragged clouds in the crisp air. The bullies were gone now—scattered like frightened animals, their cries still ringing in the distance.  

 

She stared down at her hands. They no longer shook. They no longer curled in fear. For the first time, they felt steady. They felt certain.  

 

She turned her gaze skyward, where the afternoon sun was now dimmed behind heavy, rolling clouds. The world had shifted, and so had she.  

 

The whispers in her mind were no longer fearful, no longer pleading for her to hide.  

 

They were something else.  

 

She walked home with deliberate steps, past the wary glances of those who had ignored her suffering for years. Past the adults who whispered about the cursed girl but did nothing to shield her.  

 

Their silence had built her rage brick by brick.  

 

She arrived at the doorstep of the house that had never felt like home. The walls had never embraced her, only caged her in.  

 

With a slow exhale, she raised her hand. A single flick of her fingers sent embers dancing along the wooden frame.  

 

She did not run.  

 

She did not hide.  

 

The fire consumed, just as it had once before.  

 

But this time, it was deliberate.  

 

This time, it was hers.  The flames climbed higher, licking at the wooden bones of the house that had never truly sheltered her. Smoke coiled into the sky, blotting out the pale afternoon light.  

 

Finlee stood at the edge of the burning wreckage, watching the fire consume everything with quiet satisfaction.  

 

Then she heard it.  

 

A scream.  

 

Faint at first, then louder—a voice clawing its way through the suffocating smoke.  

 

Her aunt.  

 

The woman who had sneered at her as a child, who had raised her not with love but with cold discipline and bruises hidden beneath long sleeves. The woman who whispered of the curse that had killed Finlee’s parents and blamed her for the wreckage of her life.  

 

She was inside. Trapped. Pleading.  

 

The house groaned, the roof beginning to cave inward.  

 

Finlee’s fingers twitched at her sides, but she did not move.  

 

She did not run toward the flames.  

 

She did not extend a saving hand.  

 

She simply watched.  

 

Let her scream. Let her beg.  

 

Let her burn.  

 

When the final collapse came—a thunderous, splintering roar—Finlee felt nothing. No regret. No relief. Only the quiet realization that something inside her had fully hardened.  

 

There would be no turning back.  The forest had become Finlee’s home—the only place where the whispers of fear and hatred did not follow her. The trees did not recoil from her presence. The wind did not mock her pain.  

 

But even here, solitude was not always a comfort.  

 

She lived in the depths of the woods, the scent of damp earth and burnt embers surrounding her like a second skin. The world beyond had turned its back on her long ago, and she had returned the favor.  

 

Until the day he came.  

 

The knight arrived at dusk, his silver armor glinting between the trees, the weight of his sword unmistakable at his side. Finlee did not need to ask why he was here—she had heard the stories, the warnings, the desperate plans whispered in trembling voices.  

 

They wanted her gone.  

 

She met his gaze, the flames in her palms flaring to life. “So, they finally sent someone who thinks they can kill me.”  

 

The knight did not flinch, but he did not charge either. “They say you are a monster,” he said calmly. “That you destroy everything you touch.”  

 

Finlee smirked, raising her hands. The fire curled around her fingers, flickering hungrily toward him. “Then why hesitate?”  

 

Steel clashed with flame. The battle began.  

 

He was fast—but Finlee was faster. Fire roared against metal as they danced between the trees, her magic pushing him back at every turn. But he did not falter.  

 

And then—he did something unexpected.  

 

He stopped.  

 

The sword lowered slightly, his breathing heavy. His eyes—piercing and steady—saw her in a way no one ever had.  

 

“You don’t fight like someone who wants to destroy everything,” he murmured. “You fight like someone who has only ever known pain.”  

 

Her flames flickered, hesitating.  

 

“You fight like someone who was never given a choice.”  

 

Silence fell between them. The forest stood still.  

 

For the first time in years, Finlee felt something shift.  

 

Not fear. Not rage.  

 

Something else.  

 

And when he stepped forward—not with his sword raised, but with understanding—Finlee did not stop him. The knight stood before her, his sword lowered, his breath steady despite the battle that had nearly consumed them. Finlee’s flames still hovered in the air, crackling softly, casting restless shadows across the trees. But she did not strike again.  

 

Instead, she lifted a trembling hand toward him.  

 

“Look,” she whispered.  

 

A flicker of hesitation crossed his face, but then he stepped forward. His gloved fingers brushed against hers—just barely—and then the world around them shifted.  

 

The trees dissolved. The scent of damp earth was replaced by the acrid bite of smoke. The air trembled with the distant screams of a burning house, a home that had never truly been hers.  

 

The vision wrapped around them like a storm. The knight watched as a baby wailed in the flames, untouched by the inferno that devoured everything else. A child, abandoned in the wreckage of a life she had never meant to destroy.  

 

Then—years passed in a heartbeat.  

 

A young girl with hollow eyes, curled in the corner of a cold home where love was measured in resentment. A cruel hand striking her cheek for a mistake she hadn’t made. The sharp crack of a belt against fragile skin, punishment for existing.  

 

The knight’s breath hitched.  

 

Then came the years of torment—the whispered curses, the mocking laughter, the fists against her ribs, the bruises that never quite faded before new ones took their place.  

 

He saw it all.  

 

The fire inside Finlee had never been born from malice. It had been forced into her, shaped by suffering, sharpened into a blade she could finally wield.  

 

And when the vision broke, when the forest rushed back to greet them, the knight did not pull away.  

 

He did not reach for his sword.  

 

He only looked at her—truly looked at her, as if for the first time.  

 

“You never had a choice,” he murmured, his voice raw.  

 

Finlee swallowed hard. “I do now.”  

 

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. Then, slowly, the knight reached out—this time not for battle, but for something neither of them had ever truly known.  

 

Understanding.  

 

Maybe even… something more.  The silence stretched between them, thick with revelations neither had expected. Finlee’s flames had long since faded, leaving only the cool hush of the forest around them. She watched the knight—his steady breathing, the way his fingers curled slightly as if resisting the urge to reach for her again.  

 

Finally, he spoke.  

 

“My name is James,” he said. His voice was quieter now, like he was weighing each word before releasing it.  

 

She studied him, searching for deception in his tone, but found none. “And who sent you, James?”  

 

His jaw tightened. “The kingdom.”  

 

The word felt like a curse, and something in his eyes darkened.  

 

“They fear you,” he continued. “Whispers of the witch in the woods have spread far beyond this village. They don’t see a girl who was abandoned. They see a threat. A force they don’t understand.”  

 

Finlee scoffed, crossing her arms. “And you? What do you see?”  

 

James hesitated. “I don’t know yet.”  

 

She narrowed her eyes. “But you were willing to kill me for them.”  

 

“I was sent to,” he admitted. “I was raised to follow orders without question. To believe that monsters should be slain before they consume everything.”  

 

Finlee tilted her head. “And do you still believe that?”  

 

James swallowed hard, his gaze searching hers.  

 

“No,” he murmured.  

 

The answer hit her harder than she expected.  

 

He wasn’t lying.  

 

His posture shifted, as if the weight of his mission had finally settled. He had come here certain in his duty, in his purpose. Now, that certainty had crumbled.  

 

“I see the pain in you,” James continued. “And I know it wasn’t born from cruelty—it was born from survival.”  

 

Finlee studied him, her heart hammering against her ribs.  

 

For the first time in years, someone did not look at her with fear and that shook her to the bone. The seasons had passed quietly in the forest, the days stitched together with whispered conversations and stolen glances between the flames. James and Finlee had settled into an unspoken rhythm—hunting together, keeping watch over the land they now called home.  

 

They had fallen into something deeper than friendship, but neither dared to speak of it.  

 

Until the day the kingdom came for him.  

 

The first sign was the distant thunder of hooves, rattling the earth beneath their feet. Then, the glint of steel through the trees—an armed party, closing in, their banners whipping in the wind.  

 

James knew before they even stepped into the clearing.  

 

“They’re here for me.” His voice was steady, but his fists clenched at his sides.  

 

Finlee turned to him, her golden eyes burning with something fierce. Not fear—anger.  

 

“They’re here to kill you.”  

 

He held her gaze, silent. He knew she was right.  

 

He had committed treason—forsaken his oath, abandoned his duty to protect the kingdom that had raised him. To them, he was not a man with choices. He was a traitor.  

 

“I have to go.” James finally spoke, though his voice was tight with restraint. “Running will only put you in danger.”  

 

Finlee took a step toward him, fire flickering between her fingertips. “You can’t just leave—”  

 

“They will hunt me forever if I don’t face them.”  

 

“They will kill you.”  

 

The words hung between them, thick with the weight of unspoken emotions. Finlee’s breaths were uneven, her body rigid. The fire around her crackled, the forest trembling with her fury.  

 

Then—without warning—James reached for her hand.  

 

His grip was warm, firm, grounding.  

 

“I will come back to you,” he whispered.  

 

She shook her head, tearing her hand away. “You can’t promise that.”  

 

Silence.  

 

James hesitated, then he did something he never had before —he stepped closer, cupping her face with calloused hands, brushing his thumb along her cheek.  

 

And then Finlee felt it.  

 

The weight of his love. The depth of his devotion.  

 

The truth.  

 

James had loved her from the very first moment, just as she had loved him. And now, he was leaving.

 

Her flames surged toward his fingertips, warming his skin. “If they kill you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, “I will burn everything they have ever known.”  

 

James only smiled—soft, sad, as if he already knew.  

 

Then, before the soldiers reached them, he turned and walked away. The forest felt emptier without him.  

 

Finlee had never cared for solitude before—it was safer, quieter, free of judgment. But this solitude was different.  

 

Every morning, she found herself standing at the edge of the trees, staring toward the distant kingdom, waiting for something she knew might never come.  

 

James.  

 

Four months.  

 

She had spent every night trying to ignore the weight in her chest, the quiet ache that settled in her bones. She told herself she didn’t miss him. She told herself she was fine.  

 

But the truth was in the fire.  

 

Her flames had grown restless, flickering erratically, feeding off the emotions she refused to speak aloud.  The decision had been simmering inside her for weeks.  

 

Every day that passed without James only deepened the fire in her chest, tightening her resolve. She had waited long enough.  

 

Now, she would go to him.  

 

Finlee stood at the edge of her clearing, packing the few supplies she needed—her satchel, vials of enchanted embers, a dagger tucked into the folds of her cloak. The human kingdom had stolen him, had held him captive for four long months.  

 

They would answer for it.  

 

The wind rustled the leaves around her, whispering doubts she refused to acknowledge. What if he’s dead? What if they’ve broken him? 

 

She shoved the thoughts aside.  

 

James was alive. He had to be. And if they thought they could keep him from her, if they thought she would let him fade into nothing, they had sorely underestimated her.  

 

She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head.  

 

With a final glance toward the place she had once called home, Finlee stepped forward, her boots crunching against the underbrush.  

 

The journey to the kingdom had begun.  

 

And she would burn the world to get him back. The fire had long since settled into embers.  

 

Four years had passed since Finlee had stormed the human kingdom, since she had carved her way through fear and flames to reclaim the man who had once been sent to destroy her.  

 

Now, James and Finlee had built something new —something neither had ever dreamed possible.  

 

A home.  

 

Not just in the depths of the forest where shadows once kept her company, but in each other.  

 

And in the two small lives who now carried pieces of them both.  

 

Silver, their fierce and wild-hearted daughter, raced through the clearing, laughing as flames danced at her fingertips—tiny sparks of magic she had inherited from her mother.  

 

Elliot, barely two, clung to James’ arm, watching his sister with wide, curious eyes. He had inherited his father’s steady gaze, the quiet strength that came not from fire—but from love.  

 

Finlee sat on the steps of their cottage, watching the two with a soft smile. James settled beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple.  

 

“We’ve come far,” he murmured.  

 

She nodded, leaning into him. “Further than I ever thought we would.”  

 

Once, the world had called her cursed. A monster.  

 

Now, she had everything.  

 

She had love.  

 

She had family.  

 

And the fire inside her had never burned brighter.  

 

 

The whispers had followed Finlee her entire life. “Cursed girl,” they murmured behind closed doors, “The one who burned her own blood.” It didn’t matter that she was too young to remember the inferno that swallowed her parents—it shaped her nonetheless.  

 

Raised in the cold arms of distant relatives, Finlee learned early that kindness was conditional, and fear was currency. She knew she was different. When anger pulsed through her veins, the flickering candles grew into roaring flames. When sadness gripped her, the wind howled in despair.  

 

But it was when cruelty touched her—when fists bruised her skin and laughter mocked her pain—that she discovered her true power.  

 

It happened on the mud-streaked playground, when another blow knocked her to the ground. The world slowed. Something deep inside cracked open. A force she had barely understood surged forward, demanding release.  

 

The air thickened. Shadows twisted unnaturally. The dirt beneath them trembled, sending a chill through the gathered tormentors.  

 

“I’ve had enough,” Finlee whispered.  

 

And in that moment, she unleashed herself.  

 

A shriek tore through the air as the bullies were thrust backward by an unseen force. Their screams drowned beneath the roar of crackling embers, their wide-eyed terror reflecting in the swirling, crimson flames that erupted from Finlee’s outstretched hands.  

 

She watched them stumble, watched fear twist their faces in the same way it had twisted hers for years.  

 

For the first time, she felt powerful. She felt whole.  

 

She felt untouchable.  Finlee stood amidst the smoldering ruin of the playground, her breath rising in ragged clouds in the crisp air. The bullies were gone now—scattered like frightened animals, their cries still ringing in the distance.  

 

She stared down at her hands. They no longer shook. They no longer curled in fear. For the first time, they felt steady. They felt certain.  

 

She turned her gaze skyward, where the afternoon sun was now dimmed behind heavy, rolling clouds. The world had shifted, and so had she.  

 

The whispers in her mind were no longer fearful, no longer pleading for her to hide.  

 

They were something else.  

 

She walked home with deliberate steps, past the wary glances of those who had ignored her suffering for years. Past the adults who whispered about the cursed girl but did nothing to shield her.  

 

Their silence had built her rage brick by brick.  

 

She arrived at the doorstep of the house that had never felt like home. The walls had never embraced her, only caged her in.  

 

With a slow exhale, she raised her hand. A single flick of her fingers sent embers dancing along the wooden frame.  

 

She did not run.  

 

She did not hide.  

 

The fire consumed, just as it had once before.  

 

But this time, it was deliberate.  

 

This time, it was hers.  The flames climbed higher, licking at the wooden bones of the house that had never truly sheltered her. Smoke coiled into the sky, blotting out the pale afternoon light.  

 

Finlee stood at the edge of the burning wreckage, watching the fire consume everything with quiet satisfaction.  

 

Then she heard it.  

 

A scream.  

 

Faint at first, then louder—a voice clawing its way through the suffocating smoke.  

 

Her aunt.  

 

The woman who had sneered at her as a child, who had raised her not with love but with cold discipline and bruises hidden beneath long sleeves. The woman who whispered of the curse that had killed Finlee’s parents and blamed her for the wreckage of her life.  

 

She was inside. Trapped. Pleading.  

 

The house groaned, the roof beginning to cave inward.  

 

Finlee’s fingers twitched at her sides, but she did not move.  

 

She did not run toward the flames.  

 

She did not extend a saving hand.  

 

She simply watched.  

 

Let her scream. Let her beg.  

 

Let her burn.  

 

When the final collapse came—a thunderous, splintering roar—Finlee felt nothing. No regret. No relief. Only the quiet realization that something inside her had fully hardened.  

 

There would be no turning back.  The forest had become Finlee’s home—the only place where the whispers of fear and hatred did not follow her. The trees did not recoil from her presence. The wind did not mock her pain.  

 

But even here, solitude was not always a comfort.  

 

She lived in the depths of the woods, the scent of damp earth and burnt embers surrounding her like a second skin. The world beyond had turned its back on her long ago, and she had returned the favor.  

 

Until the day he came.  

 

The knight arrived at dusk, his silver armor glinting between the trees, the weight of his sword unmistakable at his side. Finlee did not need to ask why he was here—she had heard the stories, the warnings, the desperate plans whispered in trembling voices.  

 

They wanted her gone.  

 

She met his gaze, the flames in her palms flaring to life. “So, they finally sent someone who thinks they can kill me.”  

 

The knight did not flinch, but he did not charge either. “They say you are a monster,” he said calmly. “That you destroy everything you touch.”  

 

Finlee smirked, raising her hands. The fire curled around her fingers, flickering hungrily toward him. “Then why hesitate?”  

 

Steel clashed with flame. The battle began.  

 

He was fast—but Finlee was faster. Fire roared against metal as they danced between the trees, her magic pushing him back at every turn. But he did not falter.  

 

And then—he did something unexpected.  

 

He stopped.  

 

The sword lowered slightly, his breathing heavy. His eyes—piercing and steady—saw her in a way no one ever had.  

 

“You don’t fight like someone who wants to destroy everything,” he murmured. “You fight like someone who has only ever known pain.”  

 

Her flames flickered, hesitating.  

 

“You fight like someone who was never given a choice.”  

 

Silence fell between them. The forest stood still.  

 

For the first time in years, Finlee felt something shift.  

 

Not fear. Not rage.  

 

Something else.  

 

And when he stepped forward—not with his sword raised, but with understanding—Finlee did not stop him. The knight stood before her, his sword lowered, his breath steady despite the battle that had nearly consumed them. Finlee’s flames still hovered in the air, crackling softly, casting restless shadows across the trees. But she did not strike again.  

 

Instead, she lifted a trembling hand toward him.  

 

“Look,” she whispered.  

 

A flicker of hesitation crossed his face, but then he stepped forward. His gloved fingers brushed against hers—just barely—and then the world around them shifted.  

 

The trees dissolved. The scent of damp earth was replaced by the acrid bite of smoke. The air trembled with the distant screams of a burning house, a home that had never truly been hers.  

 

The vision wrapped around them like a storm. The knight watched as a baby wailed in the flames, untouched by the inferno that devoured everything else. A child, abandoned in the wreckage of a life she had never meant to destroy.  

 

Then—years passed in a heartbeat.  

 

A young girl with hollow eyes, curled in the corner of a cold home where love was measured in resentment. A cruel hand striking her cheek for a mistake she hadn’t made. The sharp crack of a belt against fragile skin, punishment for existing.  

 

The knight’s breath hitched.  

 

Then came the years of torment—the whispered curses, the mocking laughter, the fists against her ribs, the bruises that never quite faded before new ones took their place.  

 

He saw it all.  

 

The fire inside Finlee had never been born from malice. It had been forced into her, shaped by suffering, sharpened into a blade she could finally wield.  

 

And when the vision broke, when the forest rushed back to greet them, the knight did not pull away.  

 

He did not reach for his sword.  

 

He only looked at her—truly looked at her, as if for the first time.  

 

“You never had a choice,” he murmured, his voice raw.  

 

Finlee swallowed hard. “I do now.”  

 

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. Then, slowly, the knight reached out—this time not for battle, but for something neither of them had ever truly known.  

 

Understanding.  

 

Maybe even… something more.  The silence stretched between them, thick with revelations neither had expected. Finlee’s flames had long since faded, leaving only the cool hush of the forest around them. She watched the knight—his steady breathing, the way his fingers curled slightly as if resisting the urge to reach for her again.  

 

Finally, he spoke.  

 

“My name is James,” he said. His voice was quieter now, like he was weighing each word before releasing it.  

 

She studied him, searching for deception in his tone, but found none. “And who sent you, James?”  

 

His jaw tightened. “The kingdom.”  

 

The word felt like a curse, and something in his eyes darkened.  

 

“They fear you,” he continued. “Whispers of the witch in the woods have spread far beyond this village. They don’t see a girl who was abandoned. They see a threat. A force they don’t understand.”  

 

Finlee scoffed, crossing her arms. “And you? What do you see?”  

 

James hesitated. “I don’t know yet.”  

 

She narrowed her eyes. “But you were willing to kill me for them.”  

 

“I was sent to,” he admitted. “I was raised to follow orders without question. To believe that monsters should be slain before they consume everything.”  

 

Finlee tilted her head. “And do you still believe that?”  

 

James swallowed hard, his gaze searching hers.  

 

“No,” he murmured.  

 

The answer hit her harder than she expected.  

 

He wasn’t lying.  

 

His posture shifted, as if the weight of his mission had finally settled. He had come here certain in his duty, in his purpose. Now, that certainty had crumbled.  

 

“I see the pain in you,” James continued. “And I know it wasn’t born from cruelty—it was born from survival.”  

 

Finlee studied him, her heart hammering against her ribs.  

 

For the first time in years, someone did not look at her with fear and that shook her to the bone. The seasons had passed quietly in the forest, the days stitched together with whispered conversations and stolen glances between the flames. James and Finlee had settled into an unspoken rhythm—hunting together, keeping watch over the land they now called home.  

 

They had fallen into something deeper than friendship, but neither dared to speak of it.  

 

Until the day the kingdom came for him.  

 

The first sign was the distant thunder of hooves, rattling the earth beneath their feet. Then, the glint of steel through the trees—an armed party, closing in, their banners whipping in the wind.  

 

James knew before they even stepped into the clearing.  

 

“They’re here for me.” His voice was steady, but his fists clenched at his sides.  

 

Finlee turned to him, her golden eyes burning with something fierce. Not fear—anger.  

 

“They’re here to kill you.”  

 

He held her gaze, silent. He knew she was right.  

 

He had committed treason—forsaken his oath, abandoned his duty to protect the kingdom that had raised him. To them, he was not a man with choices. He was a traitor.  

 

“I have to go.” James finally spoke, though his voice was tight with restraint. “Running will only put you in danger.”  

 

Finlee took a step toward him, fire flickering between her fingertips. “You can’t just leave—”  

 

“They will hunt me forever if I don’t face them.”  

 

“They will kill you.”  

 

The words hung between them, thick with the weight of unspoken emotions. Finlee’s breaths were uneven, her body rigid. The fire around her crackled, the forest trembling with her fury.  

 

Then—without warning—James reached for her hand.  

 

His grip was warm, firm, grounding.  

 

“I will come back to you,” he whispered.  

 

She shook her head, tearing her hand away. “You can’t promise that.”  

 

Silence.  

 

James hesitated, then he did something he never had before —he stepped closer, cupping her face with calloused hands, brushing his thumb along her cheek.  

 

And then Finlee felt it.  

 

The weight of his love. The depth of his devotion.  

 

The truth.  

 

James had loved her from the very first moment, just as she had loved him. And now, he was leaving.

 

Her flames surged toward his fingertips, warming his skin. “If they kill you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, “I will burn everything they have ever known.”  

 

James only smiled—soft, sad, as if he already knew.  

 

Then, before the soldiers reached them, he turned and walked away. The forest felt emptier without him.  

 

Finlee had never cared for solitude before—it was safer, quieter, free of judgment. But this solitude was different.  

 

Every morning, she found herself standing at the edge of the trees, staring toward the distant kingdom, waiting for something she knew might never come.  

 

James.  

 

Four months.  

 

She had spent every night trying to ignore the weight in her chest, the quiet ache that settled in her bones. She told herself she didn’t miss him. She told herself she was fine.  

 

But the truth was in the fire.  

 

Her flames had grown restless, flickering erratically, feeding off the emotions she refused to speak aloud.  The decision had been simmering inside her for weeks.  

 

Every day that passed without James only deepened the fire in her chest, tightening her resolve. She had waited long enough.  

 

Now, she would go to him.  

 

Finlee stood at the edge of her clearing, packing the few supplies she needed—her satchel, vials of enchanted embers, a dagger tucked into the folds of her cloak. The human kingdom had stolen him, had held him captive for four long months.  

 

They would answer for it.  

 

The wind rustled the leaves around her, whispering doubts she refused to acknowledge. What if he’s dead? What if they’ve broken him? 

 

She shoved the thoughts aside.  

 

James was alive. He had to be. And if they thought they could keep him from her, if they thought she would let him fade into nothing, they had sorely underestimated her.  

 

She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head.  

 

With a final glance toward the place she had once called home, Finlee stepped forward, her boots crunching against the underbrush.  

 

The journey to the kingdom had begun.  

 

And she would burn the world to get him back. The fire had long since settled into embers.  

 

Four years had passed since Finlee had stormed the human kingdom, since she had carved her way through fear and flames to reclaim the man who had once been sent to destroy her.  

 

Now, James and Finlee had built something new —something neither had ever dreamed possible.  

 

A home.  

 

Not just in the depths of the forest where shadows once kept her company, but in each other.  

 

And in the two small lives who now carried pieces of them both.  

 

Silver, their fierce and wild-hearted daughter, raced through the clearing, laughing as flames danced at her fingertips—tiny sparks of magic she had inherited from her mother.  

 

Elliot, barely two, clung to James’ arm, watching his sister with wide, curious eyes. He had inherited his father’s steady gaze, the quiet strength that came not from fire—but from love.  

 

Finlee sat on the steps of their cottage, watching the two with a soft smile. James settled beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple.  

 

“We’ve come far,” he murmured.  

 

She nodded, leaning into him. “Further than I ever thought we would.”  

 

Once, the world had called her cursed. A monster.  

 

Now, she had everything.  

 

She had love.  

 

She had family.  

 

And the fire inside her had never burned brighter.  

 

 

The whispers had followed Finlee her entire life. “Cursed girl,” they murmured behind closed doors, “The one who burned her own blood.” It didn’t matter that she was too young to remember the inferno that swallowed her parents—it shaped her nonetheless.  

 

Raised in the cold arms of distant relatives, Finlee learned early that kindness was conditional, and fear was currency. She knew she was different. When anger pulsed through her veins, the flickering candles grew into roaring flames. When sadness gripped her, the wind howled in despair.  

 

But it was when cruelty touched her—when fists bruised her skin and laughter mocked her pain—that she discovered her true power.  

 

It happened on the mud-streaked playground, when another blow knocked her to the ground. The world slowed. Something deep inside cracked open. A force she had barely understood surged forward, demanding release.  

 

The air thickened. Shadows twisted unnaturally. The dirt beneath them trembled, sending a chill through the gathered tormentors.  

 

“I’ve had enough,” Finlee whispered.  

 

And in that moment, she unleashed herself.  

 

A shriek tore through the air as the bullies were thrust backward by an unseen force. Their screams drowned beneath the roar of crackling embers, their wide-eyed terror reflecting in the swirling, crimson flames that erupted from Finlee’s outstretched hands.  

 

She watched them stumble, watched fear twist their faces in the same way it had twisted hers for years.  

 

For the first time, she felt powerful. She felt whole.  

 

She felt untouchable.  Finlee stood amidst the smoldering ruin of the playground, her breath rising in ragged clouds in the crisp air. The bullies were gone now—scattered like frightened animals, their cries still ringing in the distance.  

 

She stared down at her hands. They no longer shook. They no longer curled in fear. For the first time, they felt steady. They felt certain.  

 

She turned her gaze skyward, where the afternoon sun was now dimmed behind heavy, rolling clouds. The world had shifted, and so had she.  

 

The whispers in her mind were no longer fearful, no longer pleading for her to hide.  

 

They were something else.  

 

She walked home with deliberate steps, past the wary glances of those who had ignored her suffering for years. Past the adults who whispered about the cursed girl but did nothing to shield her.  

 

Their silence had built her rage brick by brick.  

 

She arrived at the doorstep of the house that had never felt like home. The walls had never embraced her, only caged her in.  

 

With a slow exhale, she raised her hand. A single flick of her fingers sent embers dancing along the wooden frame.  

 

She did not run.  

 

She did not hide.  

 

The fire consumed, just as it had once before.  

 

But this time, it was deliberate.  

 

This time, it was hers.  The flames climbed higher, licking at the wooden bones of the house that had never truly sheltered her. Smoke coiled into the sky, blotting out the pale afternoon light.  

 

Finlee stood at the edge of the burning wreckage, watching the fire consume everything with quiet satisfaction.  

 

Then she heard it.  

 

A scream.  

 

Faint at first, then louder—a voice clawing its way through the suffocating smoke.  

 

Her aunt.  

 

The woman who had sneered at her as a child, who had raised her not with love but with cold discipline and bruises hidden beneath long sleeves. The woman who whispered of the curse that had killed Finlee’s parents and blamed her for the wreckage of her life.  

 

She was inside. Trapped. Pleading.  

 

The house groaned, the roof beginning to cave inward.  

 

Finlee’s fingers twitched at her sides, but she did not move.  

 

She did not run toward the flames.  

 

She did not extend a saving hand.  

 

She simply watched.  

 

Let her scream. Let her beg.  

 

Let her burn.  

 

When the final collapse came—a thunderous, splintering roar—Finlee felt nothing. No regret. No relief. Only the quiet realization that something inside her had fully hardened.  

 

There would be no turning back.  The forest had become Finlee’s home—the only place where the whispers of fear and hatred did not follow her. The trees did not recoil from her presence. The wind did not mock her pain.  

 

But even here, solitude was not always a comfort.  

 

She lived in the depths of the woods, the scent of damp earth and burnt embers surrounding her like a second skin. The world beyond had turned its back on her long ago, and she had returned the favor.  

 

Until the day he came.  

 

The knight arrived at dusk, his silver armor glinting between the trees, the weight of his sword unmistakable at his side. Finlee did not need to ask why he was here—she had heard the stories, the warnings, the desperate plans whispered in trembling voices.  

 

They wanted her gone.  

 

She met his gaze, the flames in her palms flaring to life. “So, they finally sent someone who thinks they can kill me.”  

 

The knight did not flinch, but he did not charge either. “They say you are a monster,” he said calmly. “That you destroy everything you touch.”  

 

Finlee smirked, raising her hands. The fire curled around her fingers, flickering hungrily toward him. “Then why hesitate?”  

 

Steel clashed with flame. The battle began.  

 

He was fast—but Finlee was faster. Fire roared against metal as they danced between the trees, her magic pushing him back at every turn. But he did not falter.  

 

And then—he did something unexpected.  

 

He stopped.  

 

The sword lowered slightly, his breathing heavy. His eyes—piercing and steady—saw her in a way no one ever had.  

 

“You don’t fight like someone who wants to destroy everything,” he murmured. “You fight like someone who has only ever known pain.”  

 

Her flames flickered, hesitating.  

 

“You fight like someone who was never given a choice.”  

 

Silence fell between them. The forest stood still.  

 

For the first time in years, Finlee felt something shift.  

 

Not fear. Not rage.  

 

Something else.  

 

And when he stepped forward—not with his sword raised, but with understanding—Finlee did not stop him. The knight stood before her, his sword lowered, his breath steady despite the battle that had nearly consumed them. Finlee’s flames still hovered in the air, crackling softly, casting restless shadows across the trees. But she did not strike again.  

 

Instead, she lifted a trembling hand toward him.  

 

“Look,” she whispered.  

 

A flicker of hesitation crossed his face, but then he stepped forward. His gloved fingers brushed against hers—just barely—and then the world around them shifted.  

 

The trees dissolved. The scent of damp earth was replaced by the acrid bite of smoke. The air trembled with the distant screams of a burning house, a home that had never truly been hers.  

 

The vision wrapped around them like a storm. The knight watched as a baby wailed in the flames, untouched by the inferno that devoured everything else. A child, abandoned in the wreckage of a life she had never meant to destroy.  

 

Then—years passed in a heartbeat.  

 

A young girl with hollow eyes, curled in the corner of a cold home where love was measured in resentment. A cruel hand striking her cheek for a mistake she hadn’t made. The sharp crack of a belt against fragile skin, punishment for existing.  

 

The knight’s breath hitched.  

 

Then came the years of torment—the whispered curses, the mocking laughter, the fists against her ribs, the bruises that never quite faded before new ones took their place.  

 

He saw it all.  

 

The fire inside Finlee had never been born from malice. It had been forced into her, shaped by suffering, sharpened into a blade she could finally wield.  

 

And when the vision broke, when the forest rushed back to greet them, the knight did not pull away.  

 

He did not reach for his sword.  

 

He only looked at her—truly looked at her, as if for the first time.  

 

“You never had a choice,” he murmured, his voice raw.  

 

Finlee swallowed hard. “I do now.”  

 

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. Then, slowly, the knight reached out—this time not for battle, but for something neither of them had ever truly known.  

 

Understanding.  

 

Maybe even… something more.  The silence stretched between them, thick with revelations neither had expected. Finlee’s flames had long since faded, leaving only the cool hush of the forest around them. She watched the knight—his steady breathing, the way his fingers curled slightly as if resisting the urge to reach for her again.  

 

Finally, he spoke.  

 

“My name is James,” he said. His voice was quieter now, like he was weighing each word before releasing it.  

 

She studied him, searching for deception in his tone, but found none. “And who sent you, James?”  

 

His jaw tightened. “The kingdom.”  

 

The word felt like a curse, and something in his eyes darkened.  

 

“They fear you,” he continued. “Whispers of the witch in the woods have spread far beyond this village. They don’t see a girl who was abandoned. They see a threat. A force they don’t understand.”  

 

Finlee scoffed, crossing her arms. “And you? What do you see?”  

 

James hesitated. “I don’t know yet.”  

 

She narrowed her eyes. “But you were willing to kill me for them.”  

 

“I was sent to,” he admitted. “I was raised to follow orders without question. To believe that monsters should be slain before they consume everything.”  

 

Finlee tilted her head. “And do you still believe that?”  

 

James swallowed hard, his gaze searching hers.  

 

“No,” he murmured.  

 

The answer hit her harder than she expected.  

 

He wasn’t lying.  

 

His posture shifted, as if the weight of his mission had finally settled. He had come here certain in his duty, in his purpose. Now, that certainty had crumbled.  

 

“I see the pain in you,” James continued. “And I know it wasn’t born from cruelty—it was born from survival.”  

 

Finlee studied him, her heart hammering against her ribs.  

 

For the first time in years, someone did not look at her with fear and that shook her to the bone. The seasons had passed quietly in the forest, the days stitched together with whispered conversations and stolen glances between the flames. James and Finlee had settled into an unspoken rhythm—hunting together, keeping watch over the land they now called home.  

 

They had fallen into something deeper than friendship, but neither dared to speak of it.  

 

Until the day the kingdom came for him.  

 

The first sign was the distant thunder of hooves, rattling the earth beneath their feet. Then, the glint of steel through the trees—an armed party, closing in, their banners whipping in the wind.  

 

James knew before they even stepped into the clearing.  

 

“They’re here for me.” His voice was steady, but his fists clenched at his sides.  

 

Finlee turned to him, her golden eyes burning with something fierce. Not fear—anger.  

 

“They’re here to kill you.”  

 

He held her gaze, silent. He knew she was right.  

 

He had committed treason—forsaken his oath, abandoned his duty to protect the kingdom that had raised him. To them, he was not a man with choices. He was a traitor.  

 

“I have to go.” James finally spoke, though his voice was tight with restraint. “Running will only put you in danger.”  

 

Finlee took a step toward him, fire flickering between her fingertips. “You can’t just leave—”  

 

“They will hunt me forever if I don’t face them.”  

 

“They will kill you.”  

 

The words hung between them, thick with the weight of unspoken emotions. Finlee’s breaths were uneven, her body rigid. The fire around her crackled, the forest trembling with her fury.  

 

Then—without warning—James reached for her hand.  

 

His grip was warm, firm, grounding.  

 

“I will come back to you,” he whispered.  

 

She shook her head, tearing her hand away. “You can’t promise that.”  

 

Silence.  

 

James hesitated, then he did something he never had before —he stepped closer, cupping her face with calloused hands, brushing his thumb along her cheek.  

 

And then Finlee felt it.  

 

The weight of his love. The depth of his devotion.  

 

The truth.  

 

James had loved her from the very first moment, just as she had loved him. And now, he was leaving.

 

Her flames surged toward his fingertips, warming his skin. “If they kill you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, “I will burn everything they have ever known.”  

 

James only smiled—soft, sad, as if he already knew.  

 

Then, before the soldiers reached them, he turned and walked away. The forest felt emptier without him.  

 

Finlee had never cared for solitude before—it was safer, quieter, free of judgment. But this solitude was different.  

 

Every morning, she found herself standing at the edge of the trees, staring toward the distant kingdom, waiting for something she knew might never come.  

 

James.  

 

Four months.  

 

She had spent every night trying to ignore the weight in her chest, the quiet ache that settled in her bones. She told herself she didn’t miss him. She told herself she was fine.  

 

But the truth was in the fire.  

 

Her flames had grown restless, flickering erratically, feeding off the emotions she refused to speak aloud.  The decision had been simmering inside her for weeks.  

 

Every day that passed without James only deepened the fire in her chest, tightening her resolve. She had waited long enough.  

 

Now, she would go to him.  

 

Finlee stood at the edge of her clearing, packing the few supplies she needed—her satchel, vials of enchanted embers, a dagger tucked into the folds of her cloak. The human kingdom had stolen him, had held him captive for four long months.  

 

They would answer for it.  

 

The wind rustled the leaves around her, whispering doubts she refused to acknowledge. What if he’s dead? What if they’ve broken him? 

 

She shoved the thoughts aside.  

 

James was alive. He had to be. And if they thought they could keep him from her, if they thought she would let him fade into nothing, they had sorely underestimated her.  

 

She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head.  

 

With a final glance toward the place she had once called home, Finlee stepped forward, her boots crunching against the underbrush.  

 

The journey to the kingdom had begun.  

 

And she would burn the world to get him back. The fire had long since settled into embers.  

 

Four years had passed since Finlee had stormed the human kingdom, since she had carved her way through fear and flames to reclaim the man who had once been sent to destroy her.  

 

Now, James and Finlee had built something new —something neither had ever dreamed possible.  

 

A home.  

 

Not just in the depths of the forest where shadows once kept her company, but in each other.  

 

And in the two small lives who now carried pieces of them both.  

 

Silver, their fierce and wild-hearted daughter, raced through the clearing, laughing as flames danced at her fingertips—tiny sparks of magic she had inherited from her mother.  

 

Elliot, barely two, clung to James’ arm, watching his sister with wide, curious eyes. He had inherited his father’s steady gaze, the quiet strength that came not from fire—but from love.  

 

Finlee sat on the steps of their cottage, watching the two with a soft smile. James settled beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple.  

 

“We’ve come far,” he murmured.  

 

She nodded, leaning into him. “Further than I ever thought we would.”  

 

Once, the world had called her cursed. A monster.  

 

Now, she had everything.  

 

She had love.  

 

She had family.  

 

And the fire inside her had never burned brighter.  

 

 

The whispers had followed Finlee her entire life. “Cursed girl,” they murmured behind closed doors, “The one who burned her own blood.” It didn’t matter that she was too young to remember the inferno that swallowed her parents—it shaped her nonetheless.  

 

Raised in the cold arms of distant relatives, Finlee learned early that kindness was conditional, and fear was currency. She knew she was different. When anger pulsed through her veins, the flickering candles grew into roaring flames. When sadness gripped her, the wind howled in despair.  

 

But it was when cruelty touched her—when fists bruised her skin and laughter mocked her pain—that she discovered her true power.  

 

It happened on the mud-streaked playground, when another blow knocked her to the ground. The world slowed. Something deep inside cracked open. A force she had barely understood surged forward, demanding release.  

 

The air thickened. Shadows twisted unnaturally. The dirt beneath them trembled, sending a chill through the gathered tormentors.  

 

“I’ve had enough,” Finlee whispered.  

 

And in that moment, she unleashed herself.  

 

A shriek tore through the air as the bullies were thrust backward by an unseen force. Their screams drowned beneath the roar of crackling embers, their wide-eyed terror reflecting in the swirling, crimson flames that erupted from Finlee’s outstretched hands.  

 

She watched them stumble, watched fear twist their faces in the same way it had twisted hers for years.  

 

For the first time, she felt powerful. She felt whole.  

 

She felt untouchable.  Finlee stood amidst the smoldering ruin of the playground, her breath rising in ragged clouds in the crisp air. The bullies were gone now—scattered like frightened animals, their cries still ringing in the distance.  

 

She stared down at her hands. They no longer shook. They no longer curled in fear. For the first time, they felt steady. They felt certain.  

 

She turned her gaze skyward, where the afternoon sun was now dimmed behind heavy, rolling clouds. The world had shifted, and so had she.  

 

The whispers in her mind were no longer fearful, no longer pleading for her to hide.  

 

They were something else.  

 

She walked home with deliberate steps, past the wary glances of those who had ignored her suffering for years. Past the adults who whispered about the cursed girl but did nothing to shield her.  

 

Their silence had built her rage brick by brick.  

 

She arrived at the doorstep of the house that had never felt like home. The walls had never embraced her, only caged her in.  

 

With a slow exhale, she raised her hand. A single flick of her fingers sent embers dancing along the wooden frame.  

 

She did not run.  

 

She did not hide.  

 

The fire consumed, just as it had once before.  

 

But this time, it was deliberate.  

 

This time, it was hers.  The flames climbed higher, licking at the wooden bones of the house that had never truly sheltered her. Smoke coiled into the sky, blotting out the pale afternoon light.  

 

Finlee stood at the edge of the burning wreckage, watching the fire consume everything with quiet satisfaction.  

 

Then she heard it.  

 

A scream.  

 

Faint at first, then louder—a voice clawing its way through the suffocating smoke.  

 

Her aunt.  

 

The woman who had sneered at her as a child, who had raised her not with love but with cold discipline and bruises hidden beneath long sleeves. The woman who whispered of the curse that had killed Finlee’s parents and blamed her for the wreckage of her life.  

 

She was inside. Trapped. Pleading.  

 

The house groaned, the roof beginning to cave inward.  

 

Finlee’s fingers twitched at her sides, but she did not move.  

 

She did not run toward the flames.  

 

She did not extend a saving hand.  

 

She simply watched.  

 

Let her scream. Let her beg.  

 

Let her burn.  

 

When the final collapse came—a thunderous, splintering roar—Finlee felt nothing. No regret. No relief. Only the quiet realization that something inside her had fully hardened.  

 

There would be no turning back.  The forest had become Finlee’s home—the only place where the whispers of fear and hatred did not follow her. The trees did not recoil from her presence. The wind did not mock her pain.  

 

But even here, solitude was not always a comfort.  

 

She lived in the depths of the woods, the scent of damp earth and burnt embers surrounding her like a second skin. The world beyond had turned its back on her long ago, and she had returned the favor.  

 

Until the day he came.  

 

The knight arrived at dusk, his silver armor glinting between the trees, the weight of his sword unmistakable at his side. Finlee did not need to ask why he was here—she had heard the stories, the warnings, the desperate plans whispered in trembling voices.  

 

They wanted her gone.  

 

She met his gaze, the flames in her palms flaring to life. “So, they finally sent someone who thinks they can kill me.”  

 

The knight did not flinch, but he did not charge either. “They say you are a monster,” he said calmly. “That you destroy everything you touch.”  

 

Finlee smirked, raising her hands. The fire curled around her fingers, flickering hungrily toward him. “Then why hesitate?”  

 

Steel clashed with flame. The battle began.  

 

He was fast—but Finlee was faster. Fire roared against metal as they danced between the trees, her magic pushing him back at every turn. But he did not falter.  

 

And then—he did something unexpected.  

 

He stopped.  

 

The sword lowered slightly, his breathing heavy. His eyes—piercing and steady—saw her in a way no one ever had.  

 

“You don’t fight like someone who wants to destroy everything,” he murmured. “You fight like someone who has only ever known pain.”  

 

Her flames flickered, hesitating.  

 

“You fight like someone who was never given a choice.”  

 

Silence fell between them. The forest stood still.  

 

For the first time in years, Finlee felt something shift.  

 

Not fear. Not rage.  

 

Something else.  

 

And when he stepped forward—not with his sword raised, but with understanding—Finlee did not stop him. The knight stood before her, his sword lowered, his breath steady despite the battle that had nearly consumed them. Finlee’s flames still hovered in the air, crackling softly, casting restless shadows across the trees. But she did not strike again.  

 

Instead, she lifted a trembling hand toward him.  

 

“Look,” she whispered.  

 

A flicker of hesitation crossed his face, but then he stepped forward. His gloved fingers brushed against hers—just barely—and then the world around them shifted.  

 

The trees dissolved. The scent of damp earth was replaced by the acrid bite of smoke. The air trembled with the distant screams of a burning house, a home that had never truly been hers.  

 

The vision wrapped around them like a storm. The knight watched as a baby wailed in the flames, untouched by the inferno that devoured everything else. A child, abandoned in the wreckage of a life she had never meant to destroy.  

 

Then—years passed in a heartbeat.  

 

A young girl with hollow eyes, curled in the corner of a cold home where love was measured in resentment. A cruel hand striking her cheek for a mistake she hadn’t made. The sharp crack of a belt against fragile skin, punishment for existing.  

 

The knight’s breath hitched.  

 

Then came the years of torment—the whispered curses, the mocking laughter, the fists against her ribs, the bruises that never quite faded before new ones took their place.  

 

He saw it all.  

 

The fire inside Finlee had never been born from malice. It had been forced into her, shaped by suffering, sharpened into a blade she could finally wield.  

 

And when the vision broke, when the forest rushed back to greet them, the knight did not pull away.  

 

He did not reach for his sword.  

 

He only looked at her—truly looked at her, as if for the first time.  

 

“You never had a choice,” he murmured, his voice raw.  

 

Finlee swallowed hard. “I do now.”  

 

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. Then, slowly, the knight reached out—this time not for battle, but for something neither of them had ever truly known.  

 

Understanding.  

 

Maybe even… something more.  The silence stretched between them, thick with revelations neither had expected. Finlee’s flames had long since faded, leaving only the cool hush of the forest around them. She watched the knight—his steady breathing, the way his fingers curled slightly as if resisting the urge to reach for her again.  

 

Finally, he spoke.  

 

“My name is James,” he said. His voice was quieter now, like he was weighing each word before releasing it.  

 

She studied him, searching for deception in his tone, but found none. “And who sent you, James?”  

 

His jaw tightened. “The kingdom.”  

 

The word felt like a curse, and something in his eyes darkened.  

 

“They fear you,” he continued. “Whispers of the witch in the woods have spread far beyond this village. They don’t see a girl who was abandoned. They see a threat. A force they don’t understand.”  

 

Finlee scoffed, crossing her arms. “And you? What do you see?”  

 

James hesitated. “I don’t know yet.”  

 

She narrowed her eyes. “But you were willing to kill me for them.”  

 

“I was sent to,” he admitted. “I was raised to follow orders without question. To believe that monsters should be slain before they consume everything.”  

 

Finlee tilted her head. “And do you still believe that?”  

 

James swallowed hard, his gaze searching hers.  

 

“No,” he murmured.  

 

The answer hit her harder than she expected.  

 

He wasn’t lying.  

 

His posture shifted, as if the weight of his mission had finally settled. He had come here certain in his duty, in his purpose. Now, that certainty had crumbled.  

 

“I see the pain in you,” James continued. “And I know it wasn’t born from cruelty—it was born from survival.”  

 

Finlee studied him, her heart hammering against her ribs.  

 

For the first time in years, someone did not look at her with fear and that shook her to the bone. The seasons had passed quietly in the forest, the days stitched together with whispered conversations and stolen glances between the flames. James and Finlee had settled into an unspoken rhythm—hunting together, keeping watch over the land they now called home.  

 

They had fallen into something deeper than friendship, but neither dared to speak of it.  

 

Until the day the kingdom came for him.  

 

The first sign was the distant thunder of hooves, rattling the earth beneath their feet. Then, the glint of steel through the trees—an armed party, closing in, their banners whipping in the wind.  

 

James knew before they even stepped into the clearing.  

 

“They’re here for me.” His voice was steady, but his fists clenched at his sides.  

 

Finlee turned to him, her golden eyes burning with something fierce. Not fear—anger.  

 

“They’re here to kill you.”  

 

He held her gaze, silent. He knew she was right.  

 

He had committed treason—forsaken his oath, abandoned his duty to protect the kingdom that had raised him. To them, he was not a man with choices. He was a traitor.  

 

“I have to go.” James finally spoke, though his voice was tight with restraint. “Running will only put you in danger.”  

 

Finlee took a step toward him, fire flickering between her fingertips. “You can’t just leave—”  

 

“They will hunt me forever if I don’t face them.”  

 

“They will kill you.”  

 

The words hung between them, thick with the weight of unspoken emotions. Finlee’s breaths were uneven, her body rigid. The fire around her crackled, the forest trembling with her fury.  

 

Then—without warning—James reached for her hand.  

 

His grip was warm, firm, grounding.  

 

“I will come back to you,” he whispered.  

 

She shook her head, tearing her hand away. “You can’t promise that.”  

 

Silence.  

 

James hesitated, then he did something he never had before —he stepped closer, cupping her face with calloused hands, brushing his thumb along her cheek.  

 

And then Finlee felt it.  

 

The weight of his love. The depth of his devotion.  

 

The truth.  

 

James had loved her from the very first moment, just as she had loved him. And now, he was leaving.

 

Her flames surged toward his fingertips, warming his skin. “If they kill you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, “I will burn everything they have ever known.”  

 

James only smiled—soft, sad, as if he already knew.  

 

Then, before the soldiers reached them, he turned and walked away. The forest felt emptier without him.  

 

Finlee had never cared for solitude before—it was safer, quieter, free of judgment. But this solitude was different.  

 

Every morning, she found herself standing at the edge of the trees, staring toward the distant kingdom, waiting for something she knew might never come.  

 

James.  

 

Four months.  

 

She had spent every night trying to ignore the weight in her chest, the quiet ache that settled in her bones. She told herself she didn’t miss him. She told herself she was fine.  

 

But the truth was in the fire.  

 

Her flames had grown restless, flickering erratically, feeding off the emotions she refused to speak aloud.  The decision had been simmering inside her for weeks.  

 

Every day that passed without James only deepened the fire in her chest, tightening her resolve. She had waited long enough.  

 

Now, she would go to him.  

 

Finlee stood at the edge of her clearing, packing the few supplies she needed—her satchel, vials of enchanted embers, a dagger tucked into the folds of her cloak. The human kingdom had stolen him, had held him captive for four long months.  

 

They would answer for it.  

 

The wind rustled the leaves around her, whispering doubts she refused to acknowledge. What if he’s dead? What if they’ve broken him? 

 

She shoved the thoughts aside.  

 

James was alive. He had to be. And if they thought they could keep him from her, if they thought she would let him fade into nothing, they had sorely underestimated her.  

 

She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head.  

 

With a final glance toward the place she had once called home, Finlee stepped forward, her boots crunching against the underbrush.  

 

The journey to the kingdom had begun.  

 

And she would burn the world to get him back. The fire had long since settled into embers.  

 

Four years had passed since Finlee had stormed the human kingdom, since she had carved her way through fear and flames to reclaim the man who had once been sent to destroy her.  

 

Now, James and Finlee had built something new —something neither had ever dreamed possible.  

 

A home.  

 

Not just in the depths of the forest where shadows once kept her company, but in each other.  

 

And in the two small lives who now carried pieces of them both.  

 

Silver, their fierce and wild-hearted daughter, raced through the clearing, laughing as flames danced at her fingertips—tiny sparks of magic she had inherited from her mother.  

 

Elliot, barely two, clung to James’ arm, watching his sister with wide, curious eyes. He had inherited his father’s steady gaze, the quiet strength that came not from fire—but from love.  

 

Finlee sat on the steps of their cottage, watching the two with a soft smile. James settled beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple.  

 

“We’ve come far,” he murmured.  

 

She nodded, leaning into him. “Further than I ever thought we would.”  

 

Once, the world had called her cursed. A monster.  

 

Now, she had everything.  

 

She had love.  

 

She had family.  

 

And the fire inside her had never burned brighter.