The first time Kael tried to control the fire, the workshop nearly collapsed.

Lira had cleared a wide section of the underground station, moving equipment to the corners and setting up a network of old coolant vents. The walls were still scarred from earlier tests; scorch marks spread like black vines up the concrete pillars.

Kael stood at the center, stripped to his waist, his skin faintly glowing in the low light. Sweat rolled down his back though the air was cold. Wires from Lira’s monitors were attached to his arms, tracking energy output, pulse, and heat.

“Focus on your breathing,” she said, standing by the console. “Don’t fight the flame. Let it move through you, not against you.”

“That’s easy to say when you’re not the one catching fire,” Kael muttered, clenching his fists.

“Then stop catching fire,” Lira replied dryly. “You don’t control it by force. You guide it.”

He exhaled slowly. The faint red lines under his skin brightened. Heat rose around him, distorting the air. The flames began to curl around his hands like curious animals. For a moment, everything was calm—until emotion slipped in.

The memory came without warning: the explosion, the screams, his mother’s face swallowed by light. The fire inside him surged in response, roaring to life. The floor cracked beneath his feet.

“Kael, stop!” Lira shouted, slamming a switch that activated the coolant vents. Cold steam burst from the walls, but it barely slowed the blaze. Kael’s eyes burned bright gold; his heartbeat thundered in the chamber like drums of war.

He screamed—not from pain, but from the impossible pressure inside. The fire wanted out. It wanted to burn everything.

Lira ran toward him through the heat, shielding her face with her arm. “Listen to me! You’re not the fire!” she yelled. “It’s part of you, not all of you!”

Her voice pierced through the noise. Kael dropped to his knees, forcing himself to inhale. The flames recoiled, swirling around him like a living storm before collapsing inward. The red glow faded to a low pulse.

Silence. Only dripping water and the soft hum of the generators.

Lira knelt beside him, her hand trembling slightly. “You okay?”

Kael nodded weakly. “I think… I almost lost it.”

She gave a small smile. “That’s progress. Yesterday, you did lose it.”

Despite the exhaustion, he laughed. It came out rough, but real.

They spent hours refining his focus. Lira explained that fire had rhythm—a frequency that resonated with his heartbeat. By matching that rhythm through calm breathing, he could shape the flame into stable forms. At first, he could barely hold a spark. By the end of the night, he managed to form a flickering ring of fire around his arm without burning himself.

When he finally collapsed on a metal cot in the corner, Lira handed him a bottle of water. “You’ll get there. You just need time.”

Kael leaned back, staring at the ceiling pipes. “How long before they find us?”

Lira’s expression darkened. “Not long. The Federation’s scanners are improving. But if you learn to hide your resonance, maybe you’ll last longer than a day.”

Kael closed his eyes, feeling the steady warmth under his ribs. For the first time, it didn’t scare him. It felt like a heartbeat that belonged to something larger—something waiting to be awakened.

That night, as the generators hummed and the faint blue lights flickered, Kael dreamed of a great burning sun chained deep beneath the earth, whispering his name through molten air.