My girlfriend is trapped in my superpower

The road stretched like a vein of pale dust through the trees, endless and merciless.

Every step felt heavier than the last. My boots were caked in mud, my shoulders aching from the satchel strap biting into my skin. The only sound was our breathing, uneven and tired. Even Bram had run out of jokes an hour ago.

Mira's eyes scanned the treeline with her usual precision, but I could see the strain in her posture. She walked close—closer than usual—as if daring the world to try and touch me. Lyra, flickering faintly like a phantom ember at my side, smirked at our misery.

"You three look like death warmed over," she drawled, arms folded. "You realize this is the easy part, right? The walking. The sweating. The starving. Wait until the fun actually begins."

"Shut up, Lyra," Mira muttered.

Bram exhaled a laugh, though it sounded more tired than amused. "She's not wrong. We're running blind, Kael. Where the hell are we even going?"

I didn't answer. Because the truth was— I didn't know.

The road felt endless. And yet, in my chest, something pulled me forward. A faint, burning thread. Like I was walking toward a place I had never seen but had always belonged to.

Meanwhile, back in Ashthorne, chaos bloomed.

"Gone?!" Master Corvin's voice cracked like a whip in the council chamber. His heavy rings clattered against the wooden table as he slammed his fist down. "You're telling me the boy, the girl, and that half-witted swordsman just walked out of my fortress?"

"They didn't just walk," Korran corrected, sharp as a blade. His thin smile stretched across his face like a scar. "They vanished. And they took the flame-spirit with them."

The room darkened with his words.

Across from them, Sareth remained still, leaning against the stone pillar with a calmness that made his presence almost invisible. His arms were folded, his eyes lowered as if in thought.

Only the faintest twitch at the corner of Sareth's mouth betrayed anything deeper.

"They'll come back," he said finally, his voice calm, deliberate. "Not because of your chains. Not because of your greed. They'll return because Kael is searching. And when a boy searches, he always finds his way into the arms of someone willing to answer."

Corvin's knuckles tightened white against the wood. "Then you will bring him back, Sareth. Or I will burn this entire countryside until there's nowhere left for him to run."

*****

Bram stumbled forward, nearly tripping over a root. He caught himself and cursed under his breath. "This is madness. We've got no map, no coin, no food. Kael, if you don't tell us where this burning thread of yours is leading, I swear I'll drag you back to Ashthorne myself."

"I can't explain it," I muttered. My throat felt dry, every word scraping raw. "It's just… pulling me. Like a fire I can't put out."

Mira walked at my side, her expression unreadable. Her eyes flicked toward me once, sharp and assessing. "Then we'll follow. But don't mistake silence for blind faith, Kael. You owe us truth eventually."

Lyra chuckled, walking backward now, her ember-lit hair swaying as though caught in a breeze no one else felt. "Ah, the little family road trip. The brooding heir. The sharp-eyed protector. The loud idiot." She tilted her head at Bram. "And me, of course. The one thing keeping you all interesting."

Bram scowled, too tired to muster more. "Shut it, spark."

"Spark? I'll have you know—" Lyra began, but her smirk faltered for the briefest second, her gaze flicking behind us into the darkening treeline. A shadow crossed her face. She said nothing more.

We made camp at the edge of the road when our legs refused to carry us any farther. No fire—we couldn't risk drawing attention. Just damp earth, silence, and the slow rhythm of exhaustion.

I lay back, staring at the blanket of stars overhead. My chest still burned faintly, that same tug in the distance calling me forward. I could almost hear my mother's voice in the wind, though I had never truly known it. A voice that didn't exist, and yet pressed at the edges of my thoughts, soft and unfamiliar.

Kael.

I blinked up at the stars, holding my breath. Mira and Bram were already half-asleep, their bodies curled close to one another for warmth. Lyra sat cross-legged in the dirt, her form flickering faintly like firelight, watching me.

You heard it too, didn't you?" she said quietly, almost serious this time.

I swallowed. "Heard what?"

Her smirk returned, sharp and crooked, but her eyes didn't match it. They glowed too bright, too focused. "Nothing. Just ghosts. Just the wind."

But I knew better. Lyra never wasted words.

The silence thickened. My mind wouldn't rest. Every shift of the night seemed louder—the rustle of leaves, the snapping of branches in the distance. I pushed myself upright, glancing into the trees.

Shapes moved. Not close, not threatening—just… there. Like the forest itself was watching us breathe.

"Kael," Mira murmured suddenly, her voice half-laced with sleep but sharp all the same. "Don't wander."

"I'm not," I lied, even though my knees were already bent, my body tense like it might move on its own.

Lyra rose with me, her ember hair flickering faintly in the dark. "You're pulling at something you don't even understand," she whispered, leaning in so close her voice brushed against my ear. "Threads tied to blood. Threads tied to fire. Threads tied to shadows. Keep tugging, and sooner or later, something will tug back."

I shivered. And in that moment, deep in the treeline, two faint red pinpricks flared—eyes, unblinking, watching us.

I froze, breath caught in my throat. But just as quickly, they blinked out. Gone.

I turned to Lyra, my heart pounding. "Did you see—"

She only smirked, sharp and unreadable. "Get some sleep, Kael. You'll need it."

Her words didn't soothe me. They were a warning, coiled and burning.

By morning, the whispers of the night still clung to me. My body was sore, my throat dry, but it wasn't exhaustion that weighed me down. It was the fire inside me, hotter than ever, dragging me forward even as everything else screamed to stop.

We broke camp in silence. None of us spoke of what we thought we saw. Maybe Mira and Bram hadn't noticed. Maybe Lyra was pretending. Maybe I was going mad.

But as we stepped back onto the road, I couldn't shake the feeling that the world itself was moving with us—watching, waiting, whispering.

The road bent and opened into a valley, and silence swallowed us whole.

No smoke from hearths. No voices. No livestock. Nothing. Just the brittle creak of the wind as it swept over roofs half-collapsed, doors hanging loose on hinges. The village looked like it had been drained of life, hollowed out by something unseen.

Bram shifted uneasily, his hand brushing the hilt of his blade. "This is… welcoming," he muttered. "Maybe they're all at a party we weren't invited to."

"Or dead," Mira said flatly, her gaze sharp as she scanned the empty homes.

I felt it too—the weight, pressing, suffocating. It wasn't emptiness. It was presence. As if the shadows themselves had teeth.

Lyra tilted her head, her ember-lit eyes narrowing. For once, she didn't speak. We walked further in, boots crunching against stone. Every sound echoed too loud, too close.

And then— A voice. Low. Feminine. Cold as a blade's edge.

"Who dares walk into my land?"

The words didn't echo. They slid from the shadows themselves, curling around us like smoke. My chest tightened. The pull I had been following—the burning thread inside me—snapped taut.

The air thickened. Shadows shifted. And for the first time since we'd fled Ashthorne, I knew we were exactly where we were meant to be.