My girlfriend is trapped in my superpower

The villagers pressed closer, their voices swelling, carrying my name as if it were a prayer, or a weapon. I stood frozen in the center of it, every breath heavy with smoke and expectation. Mira's hand brushed my arm, protective, steady, though her eyes flicked warily at Selene. Bram shifted from foot to foot, caught between awe and unease.

Selene raised her hand, and the villagers stilled as if leashed. Shadows rippled at her command, curling up her arm and vanishing into the night air. Her gaze locked on me, sharp as steel.

"Come," she said. "There's much you don't know, and little time to learn it."

My legs felt like stone, but I followed. The villagers parted as we passed, bowing low, whispering fragments of prophecy I couldn't quite catch.

Lyra flickered at my side, arms crossed, her smirk thinner than usual. "Well, Kael, looks like you've inherited a kingdom of starving zealots. Try not to trip over the crown."

I ignored her. Or tried to. Because the truth was, I could feel it now—like the fire in me wasn't just mine anymore. Like it had roots here, in this cursed soil, in these fearful people, in the shadows of the sister I had never known.

I wondered if this road I had chosen was less about finding who I was… and more about becoming something I was never meant to be.

Selene led us through the narrow streets, her shadows curling against the stone walls like restless smoke. The villagers trailed behind at a distance, silent now, their reverence pressing like a storm cloud. Every step I took felt heavier, as if the ground itself demanded something of me.

We reached a small hall at the village center, its doors worn, its wood blackened by years of fire and ash. Inside, the air smelled of old incense and charred stone. Selene closed the door behind us, and for the first time, it was only the four of us—Mira tense, Bram uneasy, Lyra fading in and out like an impatient ember.

Selene's eyes burned into me. "Do you feel it now?" she asked.

I frowned. "Feel what?"

"The pull. The chains. The fire that doesn't belong to you alone." She took a step closer, her voice low, steady. "Our bloodline has always been cursed. But you—" Her gaze sharpened, almost accusing. "You're the one mother said would be the key. The flame that holds the seal."

I swallowed, heat rising in my chest. "And what if I can't?"

Her lips curved into a bitter shadow of a smile. "Then everything you've seen so far—the Devourer, the hellbounds—will look like sparks compared to the fire that will consume this world."

Mira shifted forward, her hand brushing her sword hilt. "You talk as if Kael's life belongs to this… curse. He's not a tool for your prophecy."

Selene's gaze slid to her, sharp as a blade. "And you are? A guardian? A lover? A shadow that thinks it can hold back fire?"

The air thickened, Mira's jaw tightening, but I lifted a hand before she could retort. My voice cracked slightly, but I forced it out. "Enough. If I'm truly this… heir you think I am, then I need truth. All of it."

Selene studied me for a long, silent moment. Then she turned and opened the hall doors. Outside, torches had been lit. Villagers gathered, carrying baskets of food, jugs of water, even garlands of wilted flowers. The shadows of their thin frames flickered like ghosts in the firelight.

"They've waited for you," Selene murmured. "For years. For generations."

As we stepped outside, the villagers dropped to their knees again, their voices rising in unison. "The heir has returned! The flame lives!"

Bram muttered under his breath, "gods, this is worse than Ashthorne."

Lyra smirked faintly, her ember-lit eyes watching me with something between pity and mockery. "Smile, Kael. They're not worshiping you yet. Just waiting for you to either save them… or damn them."

I stood frozen in the firelight, the weight of their hope pressing down like chains. As I realized that the truth wasn't just chasing me anymore. It had found me.

The chants rolled like thunder through the square, carrying a rhythm that rattled in my chest. I wanted to disappear into the shadows, to be invisible—but every gaze was pinned to me as if my breath alone held their survival.

Selene raised her hand, and the voices died instantly. The silence was worse than the noise—thick, charged, expectant.

"Bring forth the offering," she commanded.

The villagers moved in near-perfect synchronicity. From the crowd came woven baskets brimming with bread and fruit, skins of water, and flowers plucked from what little life still clung to this land. A boy no older than ten carried a clay lantern, its flame flickering blue instead of gold. He placed it at my feet and bowed so low his forehead touched the dirt.

The villagers followed, one after another, until the space around me looked like a shrine. Their whispers rose again—fragments of prayer, fragments of fear. Heir. Savior. Flame.

Bram scratched the back of his neck, muttering to Mira, "This is starting to feel less like hospitality and more like… I don't know. A coronation."

"Or a funeral," Mira whispered back, her eyes sharp and restless.

Lyra materialized at my shoulder, arms folded, her smirk thinner than usual. "Look at you, Kael. A crown you never asked for. Chains made of flowers and fire. How poetic."

"Shut up," I muttered under my breath, but the heat in my chest throbbed harder with every chant.

Selene stepped forward until she stood beside me, her shadow curling around my arm without touching. "You feel it, don't you? Their faith. Their desperation. They've survived on stories of you, Kael. And now, you stand here in flesh and flame."

"I'm not—" My throat closed, the words catching like embers. "I'm not what they think I am."

Her gaze cut into me. "Then become it. Or the seal will break, and nothing will remain of this village. Of this world."

The villagers bowed lower, their voices weaving into a single chorus:

"The heir has returned. The flame lives. The seal will hold."

My heart slammed against my ribs. I wanted to scream, to demand answers, to run. Instead, I stood there, the fire inside me burning hotter with every word, until I didn't know whether it was mine—or theirs.

Bram nudged me, whispering just loud enough for me to hear, "So… do we clap? Bow back? What's the protocol when you're suddenly the messiah of a village of shadow-worshippers?"

Mira shot him a glare sharp enough to silence even him. But even she couldn't hide the way her eyes flicked between me and Selene, unease carved deep in her face.

And through it all, Lyra's quiet voice curled into my ear, soft but cutting.

"Careful, Kael. Crowns have a way of becoming cages."