Lucian sat on the edge of his bed, his fingers trembling slightly as he stared at the flickering image in the mirror. The mark on his chest had grown darker, its once faint glow now pulsating in time with his heartbeat. His room felt unnaturally warm, as if the very air itself was charged with something... otherworldly. He reached for his chest, brushing his fingers over the strange symbol that had become a part of him—something he couldn't explain, something that seemed to grow stronger by the day.
The room was silent, save for the soft hum of the neon sign outside his window. But Lucian's mind was anything but still. Images flashed before his eyes—rapid, fleeting moments that felt both foreign and familiar. They came in flashes, like fragments of a long-lost dream, or perhaps a forgotten past clawing its way to the surface.
A dimly lit room. The sound of whispers, urgent and filled with fear. A woman—her face obscured by shadows—holding him close. Her voice, soft yet filled with an intensity that left an imprint on his soul.
"You are not like them. You are mine. Remember who you are."
He winced, shaking his head as the sensation of heat and smoke filled his lungs. His chest tightened as he tried to grasp the images, but they slipped away as quickly as they had come. He rubbed his face with both hands, the pounding in his skull growing sharper, louder, as though his very thoughts were being torn apart by invisible forces.
For a moment, he closed his eyes, hoping the sensations would subside, but they didn't. Instead, they deepened.
Another flash—this time, a child, no older than five or six, standing in the middle of an open, barren field. The wind howled, and the sky was filled with dark, ominous clouds. The child's eyes—his own eyes—were wide with terror as a dark figure approached from the horizon, its form twisted and shrouded in shadow.
Lucian gasped, his breath catching in his throat as the memory became clearer, sharper. The figure... it was as if he knew it. As if he had always known it.
"You are mine, Lucian. Come to me."
The voice was unmistakable. It was the same voice from the previous memory—the woman, calling him. But this time, there was a weight to it, an undeniable pull. The heat in his chest flared, a sensation so intense it felt like his very heart was burning.
Lucian stood abruptly, his hands gripping the edge of his dresser as his legs threatened to give out beneath him. The memories came faster now—each one more vivid than the last. He saw glimpses of a life he couldn't remember, a childhood he couldn't place. His mind was unraveling, thread by thread, as the pieces of his past fell into place. But with each fragment, the more he realized how much he had lost, how much had been taken from him.
The familiar warmth of the flames consumed him again. He saw the child—his younger self—standing before a towering inferno, his eyes wide with a strange mix of awe and fear.
The fiery woman's voice echoed in his ears, her words now a constant hum in the back of his mind.
"Lucian, embrace the fire. Embrace your true nature. The time is near."
A surge of anger rippled through him, sudden and overwhelming. The room seemed to tilt, the walls shifting as though they were made of smoke. His hands clenched into fists, the flames within him reacting to his emotions. Objects in the room began to tremble, the glass in the window rattling as though a storm was about to break.
But it wasn't a storm. It was him. His power.
With a forceful exhale, Lucian staggered back, his chest heaving. The flashes, the memories—everything seemed to be coming at him all at once. He was drowning in them. The woman, the fire, the dark figure... everything was tangled in his mind, and he didn't know how to separate the truth from the lies.
His eyes fluttered open, and in that moment, he saw something that sent a chill down his spine. The mirror, which had been still just moments before, now reflected something that wasn't there before. A shadow—dark and formless—stood behind him, watching. It was an echo of something older, something ancient.
Lucian spun around, but there was nothing there. His heart raced, and the glow on his chest flickered again, a silent reminder of the force that was beginning to awaken inside him.
The woman's voice again, faint but undeniable:
"Come to me, Lucian. The world will burn, and you will reign in the ashes."
He fell to his knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The memories, the whispers—they were suffocating him. He had to know the truth. He had to understand what was happening to him. But as he looked at his trembling hands, the answer seemed both clear and impossible. He was changing. And it wasn't just his body. It was everything—his past, his identity, his destiny.
Lucian gritted his teeth, the heat within him building once more. He had no choice but to confront it, to seek the answers buried in the depths of his past. He had to know who he truly was, and what role he was meant to play in the fire that was rapidly consuming him.
And deep inside, amidst the chaos, a single thought echoed in his mind:
"I am not just a man. I am the son of fire."
Seraphina leaned against the dark corner of the bar, her eyes scanning the room with practiced precision. The low hum of the city nightlife pulsed in the background, a soft blend of music, clinking glass, and murmured conversations. To the casual observer, this was just another bar in a city that seemed to pulse with its own secrets. But to Seraphina, this place was anything but ordinary.
She had been tracking Lucian for days now, watching him from the shadows, waiting for a moment of weakness—or a moment of revelation. The bartender, with his brooding gaze and aura of solitude, had piqued her interest the moment she had walked through the door. His presence seemed to distort the air around him, a subtle, almost imperceptible disturbance, as though the very fabric of reality shifted when he was near.
Her celestial training had honed her senses to a sharp edge, allowing her to detect the hidden energies that flowed beneath the surface of this world. And Lucian? He was a beacon of untapped potential. A dark, swirling storm of power that seemed to simmer just beneath his skin, begging to be unleashed. His aura was a mixture of heat and shadows, a dangerous cocktail of chaos that she had only felt a few times in her long existence.
Tonight, Lucian stood behind the bar, wiping down glasses as if nothing was out of the ordinary. His motions were fluid, almost mechanical, yet there was a tension to him, a quiet storm brewing beneath his calm exterior. She could feel it. The power that pulsed through his veins, waiting for the right moment to erupt. And she knew, without a doubt, that this moment was coming soon.
Seraphina's hand brushed lightly against the pendant around her neck, a small symbol of her Order. The Radiant Dawn had sent her to stop Lucian's transformation, to prevent him from embracing his demonic heritage. They feared what he could become, what he could do if he fully unleashed the power within him. And though Seraphina had no love for the Order's rigid ideals, she knew that they were right about one thing: Lucian's potential for destruction was immeasurable. The boy was a living bomb, waiting to go off.
Her fingers curled around the rim of her glass, the ice clinking as she brought it to her lips. She watched Lucian as he interacted with the other patrons—his eyes cold, distant, as though he were trapped in a world that he couldn't connect with. He was more than just a bartender, more than just a man lost in the humdrum of everyday life. There was something ancient about him. Something primal.
And in that moment, she saw it.
Lucian's face tensed, his jaw tightening as he leaned over the bar to hand a drink to a rowdy patron. His eyes flickered for just a moment—an unnatural glow that shone like embers in the dark. Seraphina's breath caught in her throat. It was brief, but she had seen it. The power was there, raw and unrestrained, hidden behind the walls he had built around himself.
She sensed the heat rising within him, like the beginning of a wildfire, waiting for the right spark to set it all ablaze. His anger, his confusion, his fear—it was all feeding the storm within him, and it would not be long before it consumed him entirely.
Seraphina knew she had to act. She couldn't wait for him to burn out of control. She had to intervene before it was too late. But her mind raced, trying to figure out the best course of action. Approaching him directly would be foolish. He was too volatile, too unpredictable. But there was a way in.
She had learned a great deal about Lucian in the past few days—his routines, his habits, the people he interacted with. He had a deep loneliness about him, a need for connection, though he hid it well beneath his stoic exterior. That, she realized, was her in. She could be the person to reach him before the darkness took him completely.
Her eyes narrowed as Lucian glanced up, catching her gaze for a brief moment. His expression shifted, just slightly, as though he were sensing her presence.
Seraphina didn't flinch. She held his gaze, letting him feel the weight of her attention. It was a subtle challenge, a test. She needed him to know that she was there, that she was watching, that he was not as hidden as he thought.
But Lucian's expression remained unreadable, his lips curling into the faintest of smiles as he turned away to serve another drink.
Seraphina's heart thudded in her chest, but her face remained impassive. He was playing a game, she realized. A game of hiding, of running from his true self. But there was only so long he could keep up the façade.
The night air was cool against Lucian's skin as he stepped out of the bar, the hum of the city alive around him. The streetlights flickered in the mist that rolled through the alleys, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch and sway with an unnatural rhythm. It had been a long, exhausting night—one filled with tension that he couldn't shake. His mind was still heavy with the remnants of the memories that had assaulted him earlier, flashes of a childhood he couldn't remember, and a dark, unexplainable force within him that was growing stronger every day.
As he walked through the dimly lit street, his steps slow and deliberate, he couldn't help but feel like something was watching him. A prickle at the back of his neck, a sensation of eyes in the dark. He quickened his pace, his fingers subconsciously tightening around the strap of his bag. Something wasn't right.
A rustle in the shadows caught his attention, and before he could react, a figure lunged at him from the alleyway.
Lucian barely had time to react. The creature was quick—too quick. Its eyes glowed an unsettling shade of amber, and its twisted, malformed features seemed to shift and flicker in the moonlight. It was a demon, a lesser one by the looks of it, but one that was clearly eager for a fight.
With a guttural growl, the demon lunged at Lucian, its claws slashing through the air. Lucian instinctively stepped back, but not fast enough. One of the claws raked across his shoulder, and he felt the burning sting of its touch—like fire being scraped across his skin. He gasped, staggering back as the demon snarled, its jagged teeth bared in a grotesque grin.
His heart raced, his pulse thundering in his ears. He could feel it then—the heat building within him, that familiar, terrifying energy stirring beneath his skin. The mark on his chest flared painfully, as though it had a life of its own, reacting to the demon's presence. Lucian gritted his teeth, the pain in his shoulder intensifying, and that's when he heard it—another whisper in the back of his mind.
"Unleash it. Let the fire consume."
The voice was unmistakable—familiar. The same voice from his dreams, the fiery woman who had claimed him as her own. The voice of the one who wanted him to embrace the darkness. The urge to obey was overwhelming, suffocating. The power inside him swelled, thrumming with anticipation.
The demon lunged again, faster this time, its claws aimed straight for Lucian's chest. But this time, Lucian didn't step back.
Instead, he reached out, his hand shaking as it came into contact with the demon's fiery form. A surge of heat—burning, searing heat—coursed through his veins. He didn't know what he was doing, but the power inside him took control, and before he could think, a burst of fire exploded from his palm. The demon screamed in agony, its body writhing and twisting as the flames consumed it from the inside out.
Lucian stepped back, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The demon's form dissolved into ash, the charred remains scattering in the wind. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind reeling from what had just happened. He stared at his hand, still glowing with the remnants of the fire that had erupted from his body. His fingers twitched, the flames flickering briefly before dying out, leaving only the smell of scorched air.
He had done it. He had controlled it.
But at what cost?
Lucian's legs buckled beneath him, and he dropped to his knees, the world around him spinning. The mark on his chest was burning now, as though the fire inside him was too much to contain. He felt a wild, untamed power inside, like a storm about to break free, and he couldn't control it. Not fully.
What had just happened? How had he done that? The demon had been nothing but a blur, and then, with one gesture, he had turned it to ash.
"Embrace your destiny."
The voice whispered again, this time more insistent, more commanding.
Lucian clenched his fists, pushing himself upright, his mind a swirl of confusion and fear. He had to get out of here. He couldn't stay on the streets any longer, not with this... this thing inside him.
Lucian's breath was shallow as he stumbled down the dark alleyway, his mind still racing from the violent encounter with the demon. The power he had unleashed—the flames, the burning heat that had surged through him—felt both exhilarating and terrifying. His body hummed with the remnants of that energy, and he couldn't shake the feeling that it was still there, coiling inside him like a snake ready to strike.
He turned a corner, the distant sound of traffic and the hum of the city's nightlife growing fainter. His apartment was just a few blocks away, but every step felt heavier now, as though the weight of what had just happened was pressing down on him. He didn't know how to process it, how to make sense of the fire inside him. Was this his destiny? Was he meant to be some kind of weapon?
"You are not just a man. You are the son of fire."
The words echoed in his mind, the voice of the fiery woman that had haunted his dreams. Who was she? Why was she calling him? And what was he supposed to do with the power that was awakening inside him?
Suddenly, a figure stepped out from the shadows ahead, her silhouette bathed in the faint glow of a streetlamp. Lucian tensed, instinctively reaching for the power within him. But before he could react, the woman spoke, her voice soft but commanding.
"You're lucky it wasn't worse."
Lucian stopped in his tracks, his heart pounding as he tried to focus on the woman standing before him. She was tall, with dark hair that cascaded in waves over her shoulders, and her piercing eyes seemed to see straight through him. Her presence was unsettling, like she didn't belong in this world. Her posture was confident, yet there was a subtle wariness in the way she watched him, as though she knew more about him than he cared to admit.
"How did you—?" Lucian began, his voice hoarse from the aftermath of the battle.
"I saw what you did," she interrupted, taking a step closer, her gaze flicking to his hands. "You need to be careful with that power. It's not something you can control so easily."
Lucian bristled, the protective instinct rising in him, the flame still simmering within. "I don't need your advice," he spat, but the words felt hollow in his mouth. Deep down, he knew he wasn't in control. Not fully. The fire, the power—it was still too much for him to understand.
"You will need it," she replied, her tone calm but firm. "That power inside you—it's dangerous. And if you don't learn to control it, it will consume you."
Lucian narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice low, wary. He couldn't shake the feeling that this woman knew far more about him than she was letting on. "What do you want from me?"
For a moment, she said nothing. Her gaze softened, but only slightly, and then she took a step back, as if considering how much to reveal.
"I'm just someone who's seen what happens when people like you lose control," she said, her voice steady but laced with an unspoken sorrow. "I'm trying to prevent that from happening. You have to understand—there are forces in this world that will use you, manipulate you. Your power, it's not just a gift. It's a curse."
Lucian's mind reeled. What was she talking about? Forces? Curses? This all felt like madness. The fire inside him, the demons, the voices—it was all too much, too overwhelming. And yet, this woman stood before him, speaking as if she knew exactly what he was going through, like she had seen this all before.
"And what makes you think I can control it?" Lucian asked bitterly, his hands clenched at his sides. "I can barely keep it together as it is."
"Because you're stronger than you know," she said quietly. "But that strength needs to be tempered. If you let it out without understanding it, you'll bring destruction not just to yourself, but to everyone around you."
Lucian's chest tightened. He didn't want to believe her. He didn't want to acknowledge that what she was saying might be true. But the fire inside him—he could feel it burning, just under the surface, and every instinct he had told him that she wasn't lying.
"Who are you?" he asked again, more urgently this time. "Why should I listen to you?"
The woman's expression shifted. For a moment, there was a flicker of something—guilt, regret?—before it disappeared, replaced by a calm resolve. She took another step back, her eyes still locked onto his, and with a small, almost imperceptible sigh, she spoke.
"Just someone who's trying to help. You'll understand soon enough. But for now, take my advice: control it, or it will control you."
Lucian opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the woman turned and walked away, her movements swift and silent, as if she had never been there at all.
He stood there for a long moment, the weight of her words settling in his chest like a stone. The alleyway was silent now, the air still, and Lucian was left standing alone in the dark, wondering just how much he had to lose.
As the woman disappeared into the shadows, Lucian touched the mark on his chest, feeling the faint heat that still radiated from it. His mind was in turmoil. Who was she? And why had she warned him?
But even as the questions swirled in his mind, a deeper, more unsettling thought settled at the bottom of his heart:
What if she was right?