My girlfriend is trapped in my superpower

The night pressed in like a living thing. Torches sputtered along the village square, their flames casting tall, restless shadows on the walls. Every face was turned toward me—pleading, desperate, demanding.

I felt their hope like shackles. It dragged at my chest heavier than any chain I had worn.

My hands curled into fists at my sides, heat prickling beneath my skin. I wanted to scream that I wasn't their savior, that I had no map, no plan, no answers. That I was barely keeping myself from burning apart at the seams.

But their eyes would not let me.

"I…" My voice cracked, the word scraping raw in my throat. I swallowed hard and forced it out, steadier this time. "I can't promise to save you."

A murmur rippled through the crowd. A child began to cry again. Mira shifted closer to me, her hand brushing my arm in silent solidarity.

"But—" The word flared hotter, brighter, drawn from someplace deeper than fear. "I can promise that I won't run. Not from him. Not from the Devourer. If he's stirring, if this land is cursed because of my blood, then I'll stand in its fire before I let him touch you."

The words hung there, heavy as iron.

Some villagers bowed their heads. Some wept quietly. Others looked at me with the kind of reverence that made my stomach twist.

Selene's gaze was sharp, assessing, like she was carving me open with her eyes. Lyra smirked faintly, the corner of her mouth curling like smoke, but there was something softer in the ember-light of her stare. Mira… Mira looked at me as if I had just set myself on a pyre.

Then the old villager who had spoken before straightened, his voice breaking as he rasped, "The bearer of the sun has spoken. We will prepare."

The crowd erupted—not in cheers, but in a grim kind of determination. Children were ushered back into homes. Men fetched old spears. Women lit more torches. The hum of activity carried through the square like the heartbeat of something too ancient to die.

And me? I stood in the middle of it all, fire clawing beneath my skin, wondering if I had just signed us all to burn.

The villagers dispersed like waves breaking against stone, murmurs trailing into the night. But the square didn't feel empty. It felt heavier, as though my words had soaked into the dirt and pressed the whole place down on my chest.

Mira stayed close, her shoulder brushing mine. Her voice was low, sharp, meant for me alone. "You've just bound yourself to them, Kael. Do you even realize it? You told them you'd burn before you let him touch them." Her jaw clenched, her eyes fierce. "That's not a vow you can just walk away from."

"I know," I said, softer than I meant. My throat was raw, and yet the fire inside me surged, restless, almost… hungry.

Lyra's laugh cracked through the air like a spark. She leaned against one of the wooden posts, her ember-lit hair flaring faintly. "Oh, don't scold him, Mira. He finally sounded like what he's meant to be. A flame worth following." Her gaze slid to me, heat and challenge wrapped together. "Don't you feel it, Kael? The fire in your blood singing for this?"

I did. And that terrified me more than silence.

Mira turned on her, eyes narrowing. "And what happens when that 'song' devours him? When he becomes the same kind of monster these villagers fear? Will you still cheer him on then?"

Lyra's smirk faltered, only for a heartbeat, before returning sharp. "Better a monster of fire than prey in the dark. At least fire fights back."

Their words cut across me like twin blades. One urging me to hold, to resist. The other daring me to embrace the blaze.

Selene had been silent until then. She stepped closer, her shadows coiling faintly at her wrists. Her eyes—black as the abyss—held mine with a steadiness that silenced both Mira and Lyra.

"You carry more than fire," she said quietly. "You carry a history you've only just begun to see. If you mean what you said—if you truly won't run—then you must be ready for the weight of what comes next. The villagers will fight for you. But their faith… it will crush you if you let it."

Her words lingered like a prophecy, sharp and cold. I realized: it wasn't the Devourer I feared most. It was the fire inside me, and the way everyone else seemed so certain it would either save us… or end us.

Their words echoed long after silence fell. Mira's sharp warning, Lyra's taunting fire, Selene's shadowed truth. They didn't fade. They circled me, pressing into the marrow of my bones until I felt like I couldn't breathe.I wanted to tell them they were wrong. That I wasn't this savior the villagers whispered about, that I wasn't a flame worth following, that I wasn't the brother Selene believed was born to hold a seal older than stone. But the truth was, every time I opened my mouth to deny it, the fire in my chest *answered before I could*.

It wanted this. It wanted to be seen. To be needed. And that scared me more than any monster. I lay back against the rough wall of the square, the night air pressing damp and cool against my skin, and I thought of everything that had led me here.

Ashthorne. Sareth's cold eyes watching me, studying me like a weapon. The cloaked man with the Hellbounds bowing before me. The villagers falling to their knees as though I were a god returned from myth. Selene's shadows trembling when I spoke her name.

Every thread pulled tighter and tighter, until I felt caught in a web I hadn't asked to step into. I thought of my mother. The half-remembered sound of her voice. The way her words sometimes whispered in my dreams like smoke through broken glass. The fire is a gift, Kael. But a gift that burns must still choose what to burn for.

What if I chose wrong? What if Mira was right, and the fire devoured me before I ever had the chance to save anyone? What if Lyra was right, and fighting back meant losing myself to something I didn't fully understand? What if Selene was right, and the weight of all this faith snapped me in two before the Devourer even woke?

The fire pulsed again, steady and hot, as if mocking my doubt. As if whispering: You don't have a choice.

I pressed a hand against my chest, against the burn that would not fade, and let my eyes fall shut. The voices of Mira, Lyra, Selene, the villagers—all of them blended into one heavy silence. I wondered if this was what it meant to carry a burden meant for generations. To never truly be alone, even when all you wanted was silence.