A gasp escapes me as I stare at the empty space. I clutch for the nearest bar, a wave of dizziness coming over me. 

The cell is open. Time is broken, its flow no longer unceasing. I have the power to walk out of this place and to see the seasons passing, and the light, and the sun, in its true reality.

My flame rises. Hurriedly, I push it back down, and with it falls my elation. I was placed here for a reason. I do not belong with that reality.

I also have company, the company of Neyaibet, and I must remember that. The woman is stepping through the open doorway and into my cell, Oswin following close behind and scowling at her back. I stumble back from the bars, struggling to maintain a safe distance between us.

At least the captain has opted to remain outside. He watches me through the bars, his stare tracking me as I move to the back wall.

Approaching slowly, the woman holds out a hand. She’s attempting to calm me, but I’m beginning to feel like a cornered animal. My fingers trace the scratched markings behind me.

“What’s your name?” she asks.

I press deeper into the lines as dark sparks threaten to emerge. Dodging her gaze, I swallow hard.

“Answer her,” growls Oswin.

A flinch shudders through me, but I do not answer. I cannot. To do so, I would have to answer myself first.

“Oswin!” she snaps, turning on her comrade. “He’s just a boy.”

Just a boy. My hand curls into a fist behind my back. I debate admitting the truth -- that as far as I know, I have no name -- but then she is reaching for me, and with a jolt I realise how close her touch is. My heart races as I jerk back.

“Don’t.” My fist clenches tighter, smothering a hidden flame. “Don’t touch me.”

“It’s alright,” she says, taking another step forward. I twist out of her reach. “Come on. We won’t hurt you.”

I shake my head. My concerns are the exact opposite, but somehow the confession catches in my throat.

She pauses, and for a moment I’m scared she’ll lunge forward. Then her hand drops, and relief settles my flame. I take a slow breath.

At the edge of my vision, I catch movement. Oswin is barging past her. Fear surging again, I scramble away, backing right into the corner. Automatically, I reach for my flame, preparing to reveal it to them. At least it will deter them from coming near.

Yet I am too late. All too swiftly, Oswin grabs for my arm, and I am too slow to pull away. His fingers curl around my exposed wrist. I freeze.

Instantly, the cold rises inside me. I fight it, desperate to hold it back, but it is too strong. I cannot even slip my arm from his grip.

“There,” he says. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

In better circumstances, I might have laughed at the irony.

Ice hisses through me, its ferocious chill clouding my will to battle it. Black flames burn where his skin meets mine. He yelps, stumbling back, but he cannot prevent it. Once my fire takes hold, it does not stop.

Dark lines weave from his fingertips, racing up his arm. He stares at them in horror, then glances up at me. “What did you…”

His voice shatters, and I know the fire has reached his heart. It takes mere seconds.

He stumbles back, then falls, head hitting the wall just as black fissures creep from the collar of his armour. His mouth is open, but nothing emerges.

The cracks weave up his face until darkness blooms into his eyes. It spreads, pupils flooding to empty pools. The ordeal is silent, yet I sense his anguish as it vibrates in slow shivers through me. Each lick of flame digging deep into his soul, slowly ripping away every last piece of him. 

No doubt he regrets touching me now.

It is then I catch my smile, realise the delight that thrums in my heart. The tension in my shoulders has gained unwelcome release. I gasp sharply, attempting to shake it all away. My nails dig into my palm.

This is why I must stay here. This is why their fear is warranted.

This is what I am.