The Fire Within

A faint sound crescendoed in the dark silence. Familiar, yet panicked.

“Soren! Soren! Wake up!”

Heat pressed against his skin. Ash burned his lungs. Soren forced one eye open, vision blurred, his mind slow to catch up. A girl knelt in front of him, robes torn and charred, tears streaking through soot on her cheeks.

Konira Sakitsune. His childhood friend. Relief flickered across her face as sweat and tears glowed in the light of the cave.

Soren coughed, the air thick with ash and blood. Behind her, a roar split the cavern. A dragon.

Shock ripped through him. This wasn’t possible. Not here.

“We were attacked!” Konira shouted, as if reading his thoughts. “I’m so glad you’re alive!” She wrapped her arms around him in a brief, desperate hug.

“Ko…ni…” His lips cracked with each word, the dryness of the air clawing at his throat. He could hardly breathe, let alone think.

They had no chance.

A scream cut through the distance. His gaze shifted, students burned, torn apart, falling one by one. The dragon would find them next.

“Don’t worry, Soren. I won’t let it hurt you. I promise.” She pulled away, standing to face the beast now turning toward them.

He tried to reach for her, but his body betrayed him. His left arm hung limp and broken. Bruises throbbed with every shallow breath.

“You can’t… we need to get out…” His voice cracked, thin as the air itself.

“Look at you, Soren. You’re a mess… there’s no way out.”

“But—”

“I promised to protect you.” She stepped forward, back to him, eyes locked on the creature.

“It’s coming! Koni, go! You can still make it out!”

“I’M NOT LEAVING YOU!” she screamed, refusing to turn around.

Soren’s heart pounded as the dragon lumbered closer, waves of heat pressing against him. His broken body begged him to give in—but somewhere inside, a stubborn thought clawed its way up.

I’m going to lose her… I can’t stop her… I can’t save her.

The dragon roared again.

Hopelessness crashed over him, heavier than the stone walls around them.

Konira, trembling but resolute, lifted her hands. Flames sputtered to life between her palms, her face tight with strain. The dragon halted, almost amused, as if savoring the moment. The fireball swelled to the size of a human head—the last of her strength.

With a desperate cry, she hurled it forward. The flames burst against the dragon’s scales, harmless, scattering like sparks against iron.

Konira’s eyes widened in horror. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed.

Before Soren could speak, the beast’s tail lashed out, striking her and sending her crashing into the cavern wall.

“No!!” Soren’s scream tore through the cave as he fought to move.

His right arm—still alive, still moving. He raised it, desperation burning through the pain. Rage clouded his mind.

Why? Why is it never enough? I’ll lose her… Please, something, anything…

He stretched out his hand. A spark flickered in his palm, fragile but growing.

I’ve trained more than anyone… Please—work.

The spark crystallized, straining against the heat, until a shard of ice no larger than his hand formed at his fingertips. Its edges glistened, already beginning to melt.

Pathetic… but it must work.

The dragon noticed the glimmer; its prideful gaze fixed on him.

With a hoarse cry, Soren hurled the shard.

It shattered on impact, fragments dissolving into mist.

The dragon didn’t flinch. It turned away, dismissing him, its eyes settling once more on Konira.

“No! Leave her alone!” Soren begged, voice breaking, his plea swallowed by the cavern’s silence.

This was it, he thought. He truly was useless.

Konira’s eyes fluttered open just in time to see the dragon bearing down on her. She couldn’t move a muscle. Blood trickled down her face, and regret welled within her—she hadn’t been able to save Soren.

Then, in the corner of her vision, a glow. A faint blue light, pulsing from Soren’s hand.

He heard it. A voice within him, stirring at last, answering his dread and determination. It was alien to him, yet it felt like the very essence of who he was—passionate, vibrant, fierce, powerful. Instinctively, it urged him to lift his trembling hand. Not for ice, the element he had relied on for as long as he could remember, but for flame.

The fire bloomed, condensing into a brilliance as luminous as it was scorching.

The dragon’s head snapped toward him. Instincts roused, it surged forward with renewed speed.

“You’re… too late.”

The blaze erupted from Soren’s palm, engulfing the beast. Wails and crackling flames tore through the air as his eyes drifted shut at last.

Konira’s eyes widened in shock, then softened. A faint smile touched her lips before she too slipped into unconsciousness.

The last thing Konira remembered was fire—Soren’s fire—searing through the air before her body finally gave out. When her eyes opened again, it was not to heat or ash but to the soft glow of lanterns and the sterile scent of herbs.

She blinked, her vision swimming, until the ceiling of the academy infirmary sharpened into view. The sheets clung to her, heavy with the weight of bandages. Her lips parted, her voice little more than a whisper.

“Soren…?”

The nurse by her side leaned forward, relief flickering across her face. “He’s alive,” she said gently. “But still unconscious. His body’s been pushed to its limits, and his magic reserves… completely drained. Stable, but it will be some time before he wakes.”

Konira let her head fall back into the pillow, her chest tightening with both relief and worry. Before she could gather her thoughts, footsteps filled the room. A handful of professors entered, their robes rustling, faces grave.

“Miss Konira,” one of them said, folding his hands behind his back. “We need to know what happened during your class hunt.”

Her throat tightened. She forced herself to speak, halting at first. “We couldn’t find any lizardmen. Not even one. We heard growling but didn’t know which direction… Then…” Her words caught, the silence almost heavier than her voice. “…the dragon. We—” She shook her head, her body trembling. 

“We stood no chance.”

Her hand curled weakly against the blanket. “Didn’t you even check the grounds before sending us?” The words cracked like glass, sharper than she intended. “Didn’t you see anything?”

The professors exchanged uneasy glances. One of them lowered his head. “The grounds are always inspected. The day before each trial. Nothing unusual was found—only lizardmen, as expected.”

Their murmurs swelled. “Did it appear from thin air?” “What happened to the lizard men?” “Impossible…”

But Konira barely heard them. Anger flared, but so did exhaustion, her voice breaking into a cough that rattled her ribs.

“That’s enough.” The Head Nurse’s tone cut through the air, firm but measured. She stood at the foot of the bed, her eyes sharp. “She’s still recovering. If you want answers, you’ll have them later. For now, she needs rest.”

The professors paused, chastened, then shuffled toward the door in reluctant agreement. One lingered at the back, silent, his gaze lingering on Konira longer than the others before finally slipping out with the rest.

The room quieted, except for the slow rhythm of her breathing.

Days passed.

Knocking gently, Konira pushed at the infirmary door, careful not to let the crutch under her arm slip. Her body still ached, but the pull to return here was stronger than any order to rest.

The nurse looked up from her desk with a sigh. “You again? This is the third day since your discharge. Shouldn’t you be taking it easy?”

Konira smiled faintly. “I’ll rest later.”

She made her way to Soren’s bedside. He lay still, his left side wrapped in fresh bandages, his chest rising and falling with the faintest rhythm. She lowered herself into the chair beside him, fingers tracing the wood of the armrest.

“They kept asking me,” she whispered, “how the dragon died. I said nothing.”

Her gaze softened as she studied his face. “I know it was you. But that truth… it’s yours to tell.”

Silence stretched between them. She let herself smile—small, tired, but genuine.

“What are you dreaming about, Soren?” she murmured.

The nurse dimmed the lanterns as the evening wore on, leaving Konira by his side. Eventually, she rose, adjusting her crutch, and glanced back at him before stepping toward the door.

“I’ll come again tomorrow.”

And with that promise, she left him to his rest.