My girlfriend is trapped in my superpower

The council chamber emptied like a river breaking its dam. Villagers poured into the square, voices overlapping—orders, prayers, curses. Shadows flitted across rooftops as Selene's sentinels spread out to fortify the boundaries. The air itself seemed charged, humming with dread.

At the center of it all, they kept looking at me. Everywhere I turned, eyes followed—burning with hope I hadn't asked for. They whispered the heir, the flame, the savior. Words that clung like chains.

Bram slapped my shoulder as we stepped outside. "Well, congrats, Kael. You're officially the guy everyone stares at when things go bad."

I managed a humorless smile. "I didn't ask for that."

"You didn't have to," Mira said, falling into stride beside me. Her gaze cut toward the villagers stringing bows and sharpening blades. "They've been waiting for someone to carry this burden. Now they think it's you."

Lyra materialized at my other side, ember-light flickering off her grin. "Oh, it is him. And you'd better get used to it, fire-boy. The crown fits, whether you burn in it or not."

I clenched my jaw, ignoring her. My chest still ached from the fire that had surged when I shouted. It hadn't felt like me speaking—it had felt like something older, heavier, using my throat as its vessel.

Selene approached, her shadows trailing faintly across the dirt. "The villagers will hold the barriers as long as they can. My sentinels will guard the north. But if the Devourer comes…" Her voice trailed, eyes searching mine. "They'll look to you."

The weight of it pressed down like stone.

I wanted to tell her I wasn't ready. That I was barely keeping myself upright. That I was no savior. But the villagers' whispers circled us like a tide, and I knew the words would choke in my throat.

Instead, I asked the only question that mattered. "When?"

Selene's expression hardened. "Soon. Too soon."

The square had become a forge of motion. Sparks of urgency lit every corner.

Men hauled crates of rusted weapons from cellars, laying them out on cracked tables for repair. Women strung bows, their hands steady despite the tremor in their voices. And children—gods, even the children—moved among them, carrying bundles of arrows or buckets of water. Their eyes were too wide, too knowing for their years.

Mira let out a sharp laugh, though it carried no real humor. "Fantastic. Nothing says we've got this like handing spears to kids who can barely lift them."

Bram grunted, lugging a shield bigger than one of the boys. "Desperate times. I've seen armies fall with less."

"That's exactly my point," Mira shot back. She crouched as a girl no older than eight stumbled past, arms straining around a basket of stones. With a sigh, Mira plucked it out of her hands and set it down. "These aren't warriors," she murmured. "They should be learning songs, not how to bleed."

The girl pouted, straightening her spine like a soldier. "We're strong enough."

Mira arched a brow, lips twitching. "Strong enough to carry rocks? Maybe. Strong enough to face a monster that eats the sun? Not a chance."

The girl frowned harder, crossing her arms. Mira leaned closer, lowering her voice into a conspiratorial whisper. "Tell you what. You keep the stones safe. Guard them like treasures. If anyone tries to take them, you throw them right at their stupid face. That sound fair?"

The girl's frown cracked into a grin, and she nodded vigorously before scurrying off.

I watched Mira straighten, brushing dust off her knees, and something in my chest tightened. Even here, surrounded by dread, she could still carve out a sliver of warmth.

Lyra noticed too—of course she did. She leaned lazily against a pillar, ember-eyes glittering. "Soft spot for the little ones, Mira? I never would've guessed."

Mira shot her a glare sharp enough to cut steel. "Don't read into it. I just don't like seeing kids drafted into someone else's war."

Lyra smirked, clearly unconvinced. "Mm. Spoken like someone who knows what that feels like."

Mira's jaw clenched, but she didn't answer.

Around us, the village hummed with grim determination. Fires lit in iron braziers cast long shadows against crumbling walls. Banners of black cloth were tied to posts, signaling readiness. It didn't look like an army—but it looked like a people who refused to vanish quietly.

Selene moved among them with her shadows whispering like silk, issuing orders that the villagers obeyed without hesitation. They bowed as she passed, but their eyes flicked back to me every time. Always to me. Always expecting.

The square slowly quieted as the night crept in. Torches guttered low, their flames struggling against the heavy dark. The villagers drifted to rest in their makeshift quarters, though sleep was a fragile luxury none of us truly had.

I found myself on the edge of the village, staring into the forest where the shadows pressed close. The silence was almost too loud.

Mira came up behind me, arms crossed, her voice low. "They look at you like you're already their savior. You know that, right?"

"I noticed," I muttered, dragging a hand through my hair. "I don't know what they expect me to be. I don't even know if I can be it."

Her gaze softened, though her words didn't. "That's because you're not supposed to be it. You're Kael. Just Kael. Not their weapon. Not their prophecy. You start trying to carry all of this, it'll crush you."

Before I could answer, Lyra appeared—stepping out of the dark like the flame had birthed her itself. Her ember-lit eyes gleamed, and her smile was sharp. "And what would you have him do, Mira? Run? Hide? Pretend he isn't what he is?"

Mira's hand tightened on her sword hilt. "I'd have him stay alive. That matters more than feeding him to their worship."

Lyra laughed, low and dangerous. "Alive? You call this alive? Kael was born with fire in his veins. It wasn't meant to sit in chains, or cower under fear. He is the weapon. The villagers see it. Selene sees it. And deep down, so does he."

Her words clawed at me, hot and heavy. I swallowed hard.

Mira stepped closer, her body tense. "He's not just fire. He's a man. He doesn't have to let them twist him into some tool because their history says so."

Lyra's shadows flickered with her anger. "History isn't something you get to deny, Mira. The seal is breaking. The Devourer is stirring. Without Kael, this world burns. You'd let him waste away for your comfort?"

"Better wasted than lost," Mira snapped.

The silence after her words hit harder than any strike. I felt both of them pulling at me—one voice a chain, the other a flame.

I turned away from the forest, my chest tight. "Enough." My voice came out rough, almost broken. "I can't be both your Kael and their savior. I don't even know who I am in all this. But I'll decide. Not you."

The air crackled between us, Mira's eyes fierce with worry, Lyra's smoldering with certainty. Both waiting for me to choose a side.