The next few days passed like a fever dream.
Ash still clung to her hair. The streets looked different now. People whispered when she walked by — the girl who survived the blaze, untouched, unbroken. Her flame-colored hair, once odd, now looked divine… or cursed.
They didn't know about the gauntlet hidden beneath her coat. They didn't know how it hummed when she got angry. They didn't know how many nights she didn't sleep — haunted by the screams she couldn't unhear.
She moved in with her aunt, in the quiet end of the Lower Ring. But quiet didn't last.
Whispers started almost immediately. Rumors about her father's forge. About the relic. About how the fire didn't spread like a normal one. People called it an "arcane accident." Some said "he was hiding illegal magic." Others called it a curse.
But Elira? She was starting to put it together.
This wasn't an accident.
Who knew about the relic? Who had come by the shop just days before, asking questions that didn't feel like small talk?
Only one name echoed in her mind.
Kael.
The same boy who'd smiled at her. Given her a phoenix charm. Talked about rising up.
He had vanished the same night her home went up in flames.
And now, people said he was seen in Blackthorn territory — a ruthless underground syndicate known for stealing arcane artifacts and selling them to Skybound nobles for blood-money. They were untouchable. Dangerous.
But Elira didn't care.
She strapped the gauntlet to her arm. Modified it with parts from her father's shop. Her small frame shouldn't have been able to carry its weight — but the flame inside her made her stronger. Gave her speed. Focus. Rage.
The first gang den she hit was small — just a front for Blackthorn dealings.
Three men. One door. No witnesses.
She broke through the steel gate like it was paper. The flame-wielding gauntlet let out a howl when it struck the first thug — vaporizing the weapon in his hands and launching him against the wall. The second man tried to run. He didn't make it past the stairs. The third? She left him breathing. Just barely.
She knelt beside him, gauntlet glowing hot against his cheek. "Where's Kael?" she asked, voice cold enough to freeze rivers.
The man stammered through blood. "I—I don't know! H‑he made a deal! The relic was promised—he gave you up to pay his way into the Skybound!"
Elira didn't move. Didn't blink.
He sold her out. For power. For passage. For favor from the elite. The boy who said she'd set the world on fire had struck the match himself.
Elira stood. The fire receded. But something in her had changed permanently.
Not just broken.
Forged.