CHAPTER 13: A Distant Fire
Eli woke to the sound of thunder.
Not the real kind—the kind that cracked skies—but the thunder inside his head. A storm of memory. Of heat. Of screams.
His fingers twitched against the bedsheets, searching for something familiar, something solid, but all he found was cold.
His breath caught as the scent hit him—smoke.
It wasn't real. He knew it wasn't. And yet, his mind reeled, dragged back to that night.
The fire.
It started in silence, the way nightmares always do. One moment he was lying in bed, and the next—he was standing in the middle of a hallway lit in orange, heat licking the air, the walls roaring with flame.
"Run!" a voice had shouted.
He hadn't moved. Not at first.
He was looking for someone. He couldn't remember who now. Maybe his brother. Maybe... himself.
The smoke had been too thick. The door had been stuck. The sound of collapsing wood and crying and coughing had followed him into every dream since.
And then—glass shattered.
And light disappeared.
He hadn't seen the fire.
He'd felt it. Heard it. Smelled it.
But the last thing Eli ever saw was the shape of flame curling around the ceiling like a demon coming for his soul.
And after that—only darkness.
He sat up now, drenched in sweat. The air in the room was still. Safe. But his hands trembled.
A soft knock at the door.
He didn't answer.
"Eli?" Ava's voice, hesitant. "Are you awake?"
He didn't trust his voice, so he stayed silent.
She opened the door gently, footsteps cautious as if afraid her presence might shatter him.
But he was already broken.
"I saw your light was off," she said. "I just wanted to make sure..."
"You ever have memories that crawl out of the dark and choke you?" he said suddenly, voice low and raw.
She froze.
"All the time," she whispered.
He turned his face toward her. "I don't remember their names. The ones who didn't make it out. But I remember the sound of their screams. I remember the heat in my eyes before everything went black."
Ava knelt in front of him, gently taking his trembling hands. "You don't have to remember everything to still feel the weight of it."
He let out a shaky breath. "I can still hear the sirens sometimes. I smell smoke when there isn't any. And sometimes... I wonder if I deserve this darkness."
"No," she said firmly, her hands tightening around his. "Don't say that."
"I do. I stayed behind. I froze. Maybe if I'd moved faster—"
"You were a boy, Eli," she said, her voice breaking. "You didn't cause the fire. You didn't deserve the pain."
"But what if I'm not supposed to heal?" he whispered. "What if I'm just... what's left?"
She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. "Then let me be what's right. Let me be the reason you believe again. Even if we have to walk through the flames all over."
He didn't answer.
He just reached for her—and this time, when he held her, it wasn't to chase away the dark.
It was to remember the light.