My girlfriend is trapped in my superpower

The village moved like a hive disturbed, shadows and whispers spilling into every corner. Doors slammed, shutters locked, and hurried footsteps echoed through narrow streets. Children were pulled inside, old men staggered out carrying rusted spears, and women gathered baskets of salt and herbs that I didn't understand but felt were more than superstition.

I stood in the middle of it all, frozen, while the fire in my chest flared with every flicker of fear around me. These people weren't just preparing for soldiers or scouts—they were bracing for something darker.

Bram rubbed the back of his neck, watching a boy no older than ten struggle with a bundle of arrows. "They're arming kids," he muttered. "This isn't war. This is… desperation."

Mira's eyes swept the rooftops, sharp and restless. "They're trained. Not soldiers, but not helpless either. They've done this before." She turned to Selene. "How many times have they had to hide like this?"

Selene's expression was unreadable, her voice low and clipped. "Too many."

Lyra drifted near the edge of the square, her ember-lit gaze dancing over the scrambling villagers. For once, she wasn't smirking. "They think death is at their door. And maybe it is." She tilted her head at me, her voice dropping softer. "Funny, isn't it? They're terrified of shadows… but they kneel to you, flame-boy."

The words dug deeper than they should have. I wasn't their savior. I was barely holding myself together. And yet, the way they looked at me, the whispers I caught on the wind—

The bearer of the sun… The seal will hold now… The savior walks among us…

Selene stepped close, her shadows curling faintly around her like restless serpents. "This is what your presence does, Kael. You don't see it yet, but they do. To them, you are light. And to light, shadows will always come crawling."

Her eyes narrowed, sharp as a blade. "Which is why you need to understand what you carry before the enemy comes knocking."

The fire in my chest pulsed like a heartbeat, heavy and unrelenting. I swallowed, glancing once at Mira, Bram, and even Lyra. Their faces were waiting—doubt, curiosity, maybe fear—but waiting all the same.

I turned back to Selene. "Then tell me. Tell me everything."

Selene's eyes never left mine. The villagers had gone quiet, as if the square itself was holding its breath. Shadows curled around her fingers like black flame, restless, impatient.

"Our bloodline," she began, her voice carrying in the silence, "was never meant for crowns or thrones. We were made for chains."

The words struck harder than steel.

She stepped closer, her cloak whispering against the dirt. "Long ago, before names like Ashthorne or kingdoms carved themselves from blood, there was a rift in the world. A wound. From it crawled things not born of flesh or sky, but hunger. One of them… the greatest of them… was the Devourer."

The name tasted like ash in my mouth. Lyra's face flickered at the sound, her ember-lit form paling, though she didn't speak.

Selene's shadows writhed like serpents as she went on. "The Devourer did not kill. It consumed. Cities, forests, oceans, even light itself—it devoured until nothing remained but silence. Our ancestors, those who bore both flame and shadow, bound it. Not with steel, not with prayer, but with themselves. Their veins became chains. Their souls became the seal."

She stopped, her eyes searching mine. "And from that day, every child born of our line carried two destinies—either to strengthen the seal, or to break it."

A chill swept through the square. The villagers murmured, words trembling like leaves. The seal. The flame. The sun-bearer.

Selene's voice softened, though the weight in it only grew. "Mother believed you were the flame reborn. The sun-bearer. The one meant to keep the seal from shattering. While I…" She paused, her lips tightening. "While I inherited the shadows. The reminder of what waits beneath. Together, we were supposed to be balance."

I felt my chest tighten, the fire within me pulsing harder. "But we never met."

Her gaze flickered. "Because they took you. Hid you. To keep you safe, or so they claimed. But safe from what? From me? From the truth?" Her voice broke sharp, brittle. "I was left with whispers and a mother's fading strength, carrying a burden that was never meant for one."

Finally, Lyra spoke, her smirk gone. Her voice was quiet, almost fragile. "She's not lying, flame-boy."

I turned to her, but Lyra's ember-lit form wavered as though the past itself threatened to snuff her out. "I remember," she whispered. "The screams. The fire. The night the first seal was made. Your ancestors didn't just bind the Devourer—they burned everything they loved to do it. Families. Children. Entire cities. They carved chains out of blood and grief. That kind of power doesn't fade. It lingers. It rots."

Her eyes flicked to Selene, then to me. "And now it lives in you."

The silence that followed was unbearable. My throat closed, my heart thrashed against my ribs. I wanted to deny it, to call it madness, but the fire in my chest betrayed me. It burned like recognition.

Mira's hand brushed mine, grounding me. When I looked at her, her eyes weren't wide with awe like the villagers'. They were sharp, steady, almost defiant.

"Kael," she said quietly, so only I could hear. "Don't let their words chain you. They'll call you savior, they'll call you flame-bearer, but all I see is them piling the weight of their fear on your shoulders."

I swallowed hard. "And if it's true?"

"Then we fight. Together. But not like this." She glanced at Selene, her jaw set. "Not by bowing to shadows and prophecies. You're not their weapon. You're not her seal. You're you. And that has to be enough."

Her words tore through me, fierce and grounding, and yet Selene's stare still held me like iron. Lyra's silence pressed heavy at my side, her usual mocking smile buried beneath a grief she couldn't hide.

I stood caught between them all—the sister I'd never known, the friend who refused to let me drown, and the flame in my chest that refused to be silent. I wondered if destiny was a chain I'd been born with… or one I had the power to break.

The silence after Mira's words pressed thick between us. Selene's shadows curled and uncurled at her wrists, restless as if they sensed her doubt. Lyra stood quiet, her ember form flickering in and out like a candle guttering in a draft.

I could barely breathe. My chest burned, not just with fire but with the weight of their voices—history and prophecy, defiance and grief—all clawing for a place inside me.

Before I could answer, a sharp voice cut through the square.

"My lady!"

We turned as a villager stumbled forward, face pale, eyes wild with fear. He fell to his knees before Selene, but his words spilled not for her alone.

"They're coming," he gasped. "Scouts—soldiers—beasts. We saw them on the ridgeline. Not far. They'll be here by nightfall."

A ripple of dread coursed through the crowd. Whispers rose like wind through dry leaves. The masters. The hunters. The seal. The Devourer.

Selene's face hardened, her shadows flaring. "So soon…"

Mira's hand tightened on her sword. Bram cursed under his breath, scanning the edges of the square. Lyra's ember-lit eyes flicked toward me, and for the first time since I'd known her, she looked almost afraid.

The villagers knelt lower, voices quivering in unison:

"Protect us, flame-bearer."

"Save us."

"Save us."

Their pleas pressed down like chains. All I could think was— How can I save them, when I can't even save myself?