My girlfriend is trapped in my superpower

The training yard was silent except for the rasp of my breath. No clashing steel, no bursts of flame—just me, trying to steady the storm inside my chest. Today I was being tested by the masters to see how far I had gone with Sareths training. My limbs were sore I barely moved correctly but I still managed to show up, Bram and Mira on my side like the always supportive friends they were.

"You are not doing it right," Master Korran ordered, his voice sharp as a whip crack.

I clenched my fists. The voidflames flickered at the edges of my fingers, stubborn, dangerous. They wanted to devour everything, but the moment I pushed too hard, the fire sputtered or lashed out uncontrolled.

"You force it," Corvin murmured from the sidelines, arms folded. His eyes glinted—not the calm of a teacher, but the calculation of a man watching a weapon being forged. "You should coax it instead. Or is patience something you lack?"

I bit down on my tongue to stop myself from answering. Mira shifted uncomfortably at his tone, while Bram stood with arms crossed, jaw tight.

And then Sareth stepped forward. My so-called mentor, the stranger who had arrived out of nowhere but somehow fit himself into our circle as though he had always been there.

"Let me," he said smoothly, laying a hand on my shoulder. His touch was steady, too steady, and a little too cold. "Kael, you're wrestling flames with fists. That's like trying to tame a river by strangling it. Breathe with it. Flow."

I tried. For once, the fire responded—not wildly, but obediently, forming a calm line of heat across my palm. My chest loosened in relief.

"See?" Sareth's smile was slight, but his eyes lingered too long, too intent. "He listens when guided, unlike when scolded."

Corvin's lips twitched in annoyance. Korran's gaze hardened. I caught the exchange but said nothing. I was too focused on the fire.

Then Lyra slipped out.

Her laugh echoed inside my head before her form shimmered into being, lounging casually on a nearby training dummy. "Really, Kael? Flow like a river? Next he'll tell you to dance in the moonlight and sing lullabies to your flames."

Bram chuckled despite himself. "She's not wrong."

"Quiet," Mira snapped, glaring at Lyra as though sheer will might banish her.

Lyra only smirked, swinging her legs lazily. "Don't look so sour, Mira. If Kael burns down the hall, you'll be the first one screaming."

Their bickering was so normal, so irritatingly familiar, that I almost forgot about the heavy stares of the masters.

Almost.

Every moment when I glanced back, I caught it—the hunger in Covin's eyes, the way Korran leaned ever so slightly toward him, whispering words I couldn't catch. Sareth noticed too. For a flicker of a second, his smile faltered, and something else passed through his gaze—something I couldn't name.

Later, after the grueling session, we all sat together in the dining hall. The air was warm, filled with the smell of bread and stew. Bram cracked jokes, Mira pretended not to laugh, Lyra rolled her eyes with biting sarcasm—and for a moment, it almost felt like family.

I couldn't shake the image of Corvin's greedy stare. Or the strange stillness in Sareth's hand when he touched me, like a man holding not a boy, but a key.

And I couldn't shake the feeling that every laugh tonight carried a shadow.

The hall emptied slowly, laughter fading into the crackle of dying hearth flames. Bram and Mira lingered at the table, Mira fussing over scraps while Bram tried to steal hers. Lyra drifted in and out of sight, tossing smug comments I half-listened to.

But my mind wasn't on them. Not fully.

It was on the fire. On the whispers. On the way Corvin and Korran had looked at me today—not like a student, not like a man, but like prey. I needed answers and it was on Sareth.

I pushed back from the table. Mira shot me a questioning glance, but I only gave a vague smile. "I'll be back," I said, before she could pry.

Sareth wasn't hard to find. He was always where silence lived—leaning against the stone archway near the outer yard, moonlight silvering the dark edges of his cloak. He didn't look surprised to see me.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, tone calm, almost rehearsed.

I crossed my arms. "I need to know something."

One brow arched. "Do you, now?"

The words stuck in my throat, heavier than I'd expected. Finally, I forced them out. "Where do I come from, Sareth? Who were my people?"

For the first time since meeting him, Sareth didn't answer right away. His eyes studied me, sharp and patient, as though measuring how much truth I could bear.

"You want to know your blood," he said softly. "Dangerous curiosity."

"I have flames no one else does," I pressed. "I hear whispers. I see how they look at me—like I'm… wrong. Or cursed. If I'm to control this, I need to understand it."

A long pause. Then Sareth straightened, stepping closer until his shadow merged with mine. His voice dropped low.

"Your bloodline was one of fire, Kael. Fire so fierce it burned the world and itself. Some say cursed, others say chosen. Extinct… or nearly." His eyes gleamed faintly. "And you are proof that its spark was never snuffed out."

My pulse thudded hard against my ribs. "So I'm the last?"

Sareth's smile didn't reach his eyes. "The last that matters."

Something cold slipped down my spine. "What does that mean?"

"You'll know," he said simply. "In time. But answers are like flames—they consume faster than you think. Better you learn slowly… than burn alive from truth."

I hated it—the way he spoke in riddles, dangling pieces of truth like bait. Yet a part of me leaned in, hungry for every fragment.

"Then teach me," I said finally.

Sareth inclined his head, almost like a bow. "I already am."

His eyes lingered on me a moment longer, unreadable. Then he turned, slipping deeper into the shadows like he belonged to them. I stayed where I was, pulse hammering, his words replaying over and over. Extinct… or nearly. The last that matters.

That's when I heard her.

"Well," Lyra drawled, voice curling through the silence like smoke, "isn't he awkward? All riddles and shadows and half-truths. Very dramatic."

I exhaled sharply, tension snapping. "You were listening?"

Her form shimmered into being just at my side, golden eyes dancing with amusement. "Of course I was. You think I'd miss a secret midnight talk with your mysterious mentor? Please." She gave me a sideways grin. " Kael, you might want to ask yourself—if someone feeds you crumbs, is it because they don't have the whole loaf… or because they don't want you to see what's really on the table?"

I frowned, jaw tightening. "You think he's hiding something."

"I think he's hiding everything," she said sweetly. Then her smile twisted into that familiar mocking edge. "You do love to follow the ones who whisper instead of scream. Just don't cry to me when the truth bites back."

Before I could answer, she faded—leaving only her laughter in the night air, light and cruel and far too knowing. I stood there long after both of them were gone, the weight of their words pressing against me like chains.