My girlfriend is trapped in my superpower

The Devourer roared again, its voice a furnace that cracked stone and rattled my bones. It moved slower now, but every strike carried more desperation, more hate.

I blocked, fire twisting around my arms into shields of molten light. Each clash thundered through me—my chest burned, my lungs ached. This power… it wasn't endless.

I felt it and Lyra felt it too.

"You're burning too hot, too fast," she warned. Her voice held its usual teasing lilt, but the edges were sharp. "If you can't control it, Kael, you'll collapse before the monster does."

The Devourer lunged, jaws opening unnaturally wide, shadows dripping from its teeth. I twisted, flames spiraling around my leg as I kicked, the fire bursting like a cannon. It blasted the beast back into a wall, stone splitting under its weight.

For a moment—just a heartbeat—I thought it might stay down. But the writhing shadows inside its chest pulsed, feeding it, healing it, stitching burnt flesh back together.

My stomach dropped. "It's feeding on itself."

"No," Bram coughed from the floor, struggling to stand. His grin was broken but alive. "It's feeding on you."

The words sank like ice into my veins. And when the Devourer's molten eyes locked with mine, I knew Bram was right. Every flame I unleashed, every burst of power—it drank it in, turned it against me.

The Masters were watching too.

High above, Corvin's fingers drummed against his staff, eyes calculating. Deyra's lips moved soundlessly, her gaze never leaving the aura that burned around me. And Korran—Korran wasn't even hiding his hunger. His bloody grin stretched wider every time the fire flared from my body.

"He's killing it," one Master whispered.

"No," another hissed, leaning forward. "He's weakening himself."

"If we could bind that spirit—"

"—or carve it out—"

"—imagine what armies we could build…"

Their voices overlapped, fevered and greedy. They weren't allies anymore. They weren't even watching the Devourer. They were watching me.

Lyra snarled, her voice cutting through my head like a blade. "Do you hear them, Kael? They don't want to save you. They want to own you."

My flames faltered for a breath, and the Devourer surged forward, shadows coiling into spears that stabbed at my ribs. I twisted, parried, but one tore across my side, searing pain ripping through me. I gasped, the fire flickering weak.

The Masters leaned in closer.

"Yes," Korran hissed. "Bleed. Burn yourself out. Then we take what's left."

"Control the boy, and the spirit follows."

"No…" Deyra's voice was sharp, possessive. "I will take the spirit. She's too volatile for any of you to wield."

Their bickering rang in my ears, louder than the Devourer's roar. The monster lunged again, claws raised, and I had barely enough strength to meet it. Fire surged, shadows writhed, stone cracked.

Bram and Mira struggled back to their feet, desperation plain in their eyes. And overhead, the Masters circled like wolves. They weren't asking if they'd take me. They were arguing who'd claim the kill.

The Devourer's claw slammed into my fire barrier, sparks scattering into the air like dying stars. I staggered back, chest heaving, blood wetting my ribs where the shadows had torn me open.

The beast paused. Its molten eyes narrowed, not with hunger now—but with calculation.

It could have pressed the attack. It could have finished me while my flames guttered and cracked around my arms. But instead, it tilted its monstrous head, shadows writhing like serpents at its feet.

Then it hissed. A deep, ear-splitting sound that wasn't pain or fury—it was recognition. The shadows collapsed into the ground, pulling its body with them, until only its glowing eyes remained, watching me from the darkness.

Then—gone. The silence that followed was suffocating. Dust drifted through broken stone, the only sound my ragged breath.

Bram limped over, half-laughing through bloodied teeth. "Well… that's either a win or the world's worst intermission."

Mira glared at him, clutching her injured arm. "It retreated. That's worse than a win. It means it's thinking."

I wiped blood from my mouth, still staring at the spot where the shadows vanished. "No… it means it's waiting."

Above us, the Masters had not moved.

Corvin leaned forward on his staff, storm-grey eyes glittering. Deyra whispered to herself like she was already rehearsing the incantations she'd use to bind me. And Korran… Korran was smiling so wide I thought his face might split.

Their gazes weren't on the rubble. Not on the wounded. Not even on the place the Devourer disappeared.

They were fixed on me. I felt it like shackles on my skin. Hunger. Calculation. Possession.

Lyra's voice slid into my ear, calm and sharp all at once. "Told you. They don't see a boy, Kael. They see a weapon. And weapons…" she let the thought linger, like the bite of a blade, "are meant to be owned."

Bram caught the look on their faces too. His humor flickered, replaced by something tight, angry. "Well," he muttered, eyeing the Masters, "looks like the real monster never left the room."

The chamber fell heavy with silence. And then—at the doorway—another parchment slipped under the crack. A note. Unmarked. Unclaimed. Waiting.

The parchment lay on the stone floor, small and harmless against the wreckage. But none of us moved to touch it.

Not at first.

The Masters stared at it as if it might unravel secrets in the open air, their faces veiled in controlled calm—but their eyes betrayed hunger. Deyra's hand twitched. Corvin's jaw tightened. Korran's grin sharpened.

Bram broke the silence first, of course.

"Well, someone's got a flair for dramatic timing," he muttered, leaning on his blade like a crutch. "Monster nearly eats us alive, and now we get a love letter? Romantic, really."

Mira shot him a look. "Shut up, Bram."

I bent down and lifted the note. My fingers were shaking, though I told myself it was from exhaustion.

Unfolding it, I found only four words, written in jagged ink that bled into the fibers:

"Not all enemies wear fangs."

My gut clenched.