The dream started like a memory.
Lyra sat among the rebels, firelight dancing across their faces. Cass tossed out a sarcastic quip. Finn shook his head with a reluctant smirk. Across the flames, Elric's gaze met hers—warm, grounding.
It felt real. Comforting.
Until everything began to burn.
The warmth turned blistering. The fire pit surged, roaring to life. Flames licked the stone walls. Laughter vanished. Screams split the air like a blade.
"No," Lyra whispered into the dream, heart pounding. "This isn't real."
But it was.
Cass reached for her, eyes wide—his skin cracking like sunbaked earth. He opened his mouth to speak, but fire swallowed him whole. He turned to ash mid-step, his voice a choked gasp on the wind.
Elric's calm shattered into panic as fire burst from her hands—her hands—and consumed him in seconds.
Finn lunged to pull her back, but his body caught like dry tinder. He vanished in a storm of embers.
"I didn't mean to—I didn't mean to!"
Lyra dropped to her knees, choking on smoke and sobs. Her hands burned, her skin untouched, yet the fire raged on.
The hideout crumbled into ash and flame. Only ruin remained.
And above it all, a voice echoed—low, hollow, carved from bone:
"You were never meant to save them. Only to burn."
Then—silence.
Ash rained from a darkened sky, blanketing the world in ruin. Lyra stood alone in a graveyard of her own making.
"LYRA, WAKE UP!"
She shot upright in her cot, the scream still trapped in her throat. Her body trembled, skin slick with sweat, hair damp and tangled. Her heart thundered.
For a breath, the world was still.
Then—the fire answered.
Heat surged through her, wild and unrestrained. Flames exploded from her palms, licking at the air like a ravenous beast. Then, to her horror, her whole body caught light.
The fire crackled across her skin, twisting around her like a living thing, consuming her—bright, uncontrollable. The blanket she lay on caught first. Then the stone walls behind her. Even the air seemed to tremble with the force of it.
The stone groaned beneath her as the fire spread, fabric curling and blackening.
Shouts erupted—panic, confusion. Cass? Someone yelled her name.
But Lyra couldn't see anything beyond the nightmare bleeding into reality—faces turning to ash again, voices screaming in her mind.
"No, no, not again—"
Strong arms wrapped around her. Steady. Real.
Cass knelt beside her. No smirk this time. His usual grin dimmed, eyes softer than she'd ever seen.
"Didn't know you threw sleepover bonfires," he said gently. "But hey—next time, warn a guy."
Her voice cracked. "I didn't mean to…"
Her legs gave out. She collapsed to her knees, the cold stone unforgiving beneath her. A sharp gasp tore from her throat, like the air had been yanked away.
Then she saw it—Cass's arm. Burned. Blistered.
Her breath hitched, pain lancing through her like a blade.
"No, Cass—"
She reached out, but her fingers trembled. The fire still danced around her, refusing to settle.
"Cass, I—"
Her hands burned with grief, but the flames wouldn't stop. The sobs came then, wracking her body like a storm.
Cass didn't flinch. Didn't pull away. His voice steady, even through the pain.
"I'm fine," he said. "It's not your fault. We'll figure this out."
Lyra shook her head, tears blurring her vision. She collapsed against him, everything too much.
"I didn't mean to," she whispered. "I never wanted to hurt anyone…"
Cass held her tighter. Anchored her. The fire around them dimmed—its fury ebbing with her sobs.
"I know, little firefly," he murmured. "Not the best first impression for the newbies, but… I've seen worse."
She let out a half-sob, half-laugh. It hurt. Everything hurt.
Cass tilted his head, catching her gaze.
"You're still here. We're still here. You didn't lose us, Lyra. Not tonight. Not ever—if I have anything to say about it."
Something cracked inside her. Not fire. Something softer. Something that wanted to believe him.
"You're not scared of me?"
He shrugged. "Terrified. But only because you're hot as hell—literally."
She laughed—weak, but real. His smile returned. Warm. Unwavering.
"Seriously though," he added. "You think I scare easy? You're not getting rid of me that fast."
Lyra leaned against him, trembling, but breathing. Cass stayed there—no jokes, no distance. Just him. Just his presence. A quiet, fierce promise:
I'm not leaving.
"Firefly?" she echoed.
Cass tilted his head. There was something tender in his expression now.
"You burn bright, Lyra," he said softly. "Even when everything around you is dark. When the world's trying to snuff you out, you shine." He paused, voice thick with meaning. "That's why I call you firefly.
Her breath caught. He wasn't talking about her powers. He was talking about her.
"And because no matter how far you are in the dark," he continued, "I will always find you."
She stared at him, heart hammering. She didn't know how to respond. Didn't know how to feel. But maybe—just maybe—she wasn't alone.
The smoke lingered, curling from the scorched walls of the hideout. Ash littered the floor.
Lyra sat against the wall, knees to her chest, hands trembling. She could still feel the chaos, still taste the smoke.
Cass sat beside her, quiet. Bandaged arm. Burned skin. No judgment. Just calm.
Finn entered first. Heavy boots. A storm in his wake. His gaze swept the damage, jaw tight. He said nothing. He started taking inventory.
Elric followed, softer, gentler. His eyes locked on Lyra immediately. He knelt beside her, taking her hands in his.
"Lyra…" he said softly. "Are you okay?"
She couldn't answer. Could barely breathe.
Cass gave Elric a look. Elric sat beside her, arm around her shoulders. Grounding.
Then—
"This can't keep happening, Lyra," Finn said. His voice sharp, brittle. "We can't keep risking this. Your emotions—your magic—it's too dangerous."
Lyra flinched.
Cass stood. His tone, flat steel. "Lay off, man. She's scared."
"She's a danger to everyone, including herself," Finn snapped.
"You think I don't know that?" Cass's voice dropped, protective. "But blame doesn't help. She woke up screaming—on fire. And you're treating her like she lit a match for fun."
Finn's jaw clenched.
Elric's voice broke through, calm and true.
"She didn't ask for this, Finn." He didn't
release her hand. "None of us did. But she's trying. And she doesn't have to do it alone."