The taxi driver stiffened the moment the fire came into view.

“What the hell is that?!” he shouted.

Flames licked the sky, painting it red and black, smoke boiling upward like the village itself was screaming. His eyes snapped between the road and the reflection in the mirror, hands gripping the steering wheel too hard.

“Please faster!” My voice cracked despite trying to keep it steady.

My thumbs wouldn’t stop twitching against each other. Cold sweat slid down the bridge of my nose. My chest felt too tight, like someone cinched a rope around my ribs. Breathing hurt. I swallowed, but my throat was bone-dry, like it had forgotten what saliva was.

I couldn’t look away.

My village.

My house.

Lizzy.

She said she’d get home early.

She said she would.

There has to be a mistake. She has to be safe. She has to be. I won’t accept anything else. Maybe she’s late. Maybe traffic. Maybe she left before the fire started. That makes sense. That has to make sense. She's not alone, anyway. She's with her.

Rina.

My stomach twisted.

How long have this fire started? 

Rina’s dad works from home. Her mom never leaves the house for long. They’re always there. Always. They’ve done so much for me. For us.

Please.

Please be safe.

Please, God. Just this once, don’t be cruel.

The taxi screeched to a stop. My body lurched forward, the seatbelt biting into my chest.

“Damn it!” The driver slammed his palm against the wheel. “I can’t pass through, boy!”

Ahead of us, the road was clogged. People everywhere. Running, shouting, standing, staring. A mess of bodies choking the street.

“Damn them,” he muttered.

Of course. I forgot about it. Sometimes, curiosity blocks people's ability to think. It’s a fire, you idiots. A real one. Why are you standing there?!

And yet, I was doing the same thing. Coming here. Hoping. Begging reality to be kinder than it usually is.

“I’ll get off here,” I said, already unbuckling the seatbelt. “How much?”

“Just go.” He waved me off, eyes still locked on the smoke. “That’s on me. I hope your family’s okay.”

For a second, my vision wavered. The way he said it—so simple, so sincere—it hit harder than I expected.

“Thanks, sir,” I said quietly. “Good luck.”

“Good luck to you too.”

I stepped out of the taxi, and chaos swallowed me whole.

Shouting. Crying. Radios crackling. Footsteps slapping the ground. The smell hit next, striking my nose like a sharp blade. Smoke, thick and oily, clawing into my lungs. Black columns rose into the darkening sky, swallowing the stars.

Herike Village was burning.

Villagers stumbled out in waves, faces smeared with ash and fear. Firefighters rushed past, disappearing into the smoke, their silhouettes swallowed almost immediately.

And still people stood there. Watching. Whispering. Blocking everything.

I tried to push forward.

“Sorry, please let me through!”

I squeezed between bodies, shoved shoulders aside. I was small, thin, just enough to slip through gaps if I forced myself. Someone cursed at me. Someone else grabbed my arm. I shook them off and kept moving.

Closer.

The heat slapped my skin. My face burned. Ash stuck to my eyelashes. My ears filled with screams, commands, sobs, the sound of things collapsing that were never meant to.

My legs screamed at me to stop, but I didn’t. I pushed through one last knot of people, and then I saw it.

The outskirts of the village were gone.

Fire had eaten them whole, forming a solid wall of flames, tall and alive, twisting and roaring like it was guarding something sacred. The air shimmered. Just standing there made my skin sting.

“No way…”

Sirens wailed nonstop, layered over the roar of fire and the crackle of collapsing wood. The sound fought itself—alarm against destruction, order against chaos—and neither was winning.

People poured out of the village in uneven waves. Some ran. Some stumbled. Some had to be dragged. Skin flushed red, clothes thin and smoke-stained despite the winter air. Someone coughed until they vomited black onto the road. A medic knelt beside them without hesitation.

The cold didn’t reach me.

The heat from the fire swallowed everything. Snow near the roadside had melted into filthy slush, steam rising where embers landed. My face burned. My lungs burned. Standing this close made the reality hit all at once.

Worst outcome is possible. 

A barricade of firefighters held the front line, arms out, shouting orders, forcing people back. Behind them was the wall of flame. No gap. No mercy.

I couldn’t move.

I couldn’t blink.

Is Lizzy okay?

Is Rina okay?

Are her parents okay?

My hands started shaking. I clenched them, hard, nails digging into skin. I shook my head like that might knock the thoughts loose.

I grabbed a firefighter’s arm.

“Where’s the medical field?!” I shouted.

He turned fast, face smeared with soot, eyes bloodshot. “Left! Go left, now!”

Left.

I spun and ran.

Ambulances lined the road, lights strobing red and blue against smoke. Medics shouted vitals. Stretchers rolled past. Some people cried in relief when doors opened. Some screamed when they didn’t.

Please, please let me be one of the relieved ones.

I pushed through the crowd. It felt like wading through water where every step resisted. Hands reached out everywhere. People begging firefighters to go back in. People begging medics to look again. People begging anyone to tell them something that wasn’t silence.

About fifty meters from the village entrance, the emergency zone had been set up. Floodlights. Triage mats. An inflatable medical tent already overflowing.

I scanned faces. Fast. Too fast.

Not Lizzy.

Not Rina.

They could be inside. They had to be.

I grabbed a SAR staff member by the sleeve as he passed.

“Sir, have you seen my sister? Short, brown hair, this tall—umm, school uniform—”

He shook me off. “Haven’t seen her! Check the tents!”

“Haven’t?” My voice cracked.

I grabbed him again. “What about another girl—short black hair, same height—also school uniform—”

“I said I haven’t!” he snapped. “Check the SAR tents!”

He yanked free and sprinted back toward the fire.

I stood there for half a second, teeth clenched so hard my jaw hurt.

Then I ran.

Two refugee tents had been set up farther down, already packed. Crying. Moaning. Low, ugly sounds of shock. Nurses moved fast, faces tight, gloves already red.

Lizzy’s smart. She knows evacuation procedures. Rina would’ve stayed with her. They would’ve followed the adults. They would’ve come here.

They had to.

I spotted a woman in an orange SAR vest, clipboard tucked under her arm, arguing with another staff member. I rushed to her, breath ripping at my chest.

“Excuse me,” I said, words tumbling. “Have you seen a girl—eleven years old, brown hair, about this tall—”

“What’s her name?” she asked immediately.

“Liz—Elysia Ciaran Ashera.”

She checked her clipboard. Frowned. Too carefully neutral. She stepped into the tent, called out the name. Asked again. Someone shook their head.

She came back.

“We haven’t seen her yet,” she said gently. “Please stay here. Our team is still searching.”

Something inside my chest dropped out.

She looked at me like she was memorizing my face. Like she was preparing herself.

My legs went weak. I stepped back without realizing it, eyes drifting to the smoke-choked sky, then down to the fire, then to the people clutching each other and crying.

The sounds dulled.

Everything went muffled, like cotton stuffed into my ears.

My vision narrowed. A tunnel. Just fire at the end of it.

Rina’s in there.

The thought screamed at me. Over and over.

If they’re still inside… then why am I out here?

Why am I standing still?

My heart hammered. My hands shook again. I couldn’t trust anyone to go in fast enough. I couldn’t trust anyone to care as much as I did.

And before I could stop myself, my feet moved.

“KID!!”

The woman shouted, but I was already running.

Her hand brushed my sleeve. Missed. Someone else reached for me, fingers scraping air. I slipped between bodies, ducked under an arm, vanished into the crowd.

Two girls. Two anchors. The only people who stayed when everything else fell apart.

The main gate was chaos. Rescue crews pushing in, villagers spilling out. But a village never has just one way in. I broke through the mass and turned right, toward the intersection.

I knew this place.

Rina, Val, and I weren’t the quiet type. We ran these roads. Hid here. Got yelled at here. I knew every shortcut, every blind corner, every path the orange-jacket people hadn’t sealed yet.

I sucked in a breath and held it until my head went cold.

Then I sprinted.

I cut around the village border, circling the inferno. Heat slapped my skin, dried my eyes raw. The fire had eaten the entire outer ring. Houses gone, streets erased. I tore my jacket off mid-run and let it fall. Too thick. Too dangerous. One spark and I’d be screaming.

I didn’t think.

I just ran.

My feet burned. My chest burned. My lungs felt like they were tearing open. Rocks tore at my soles, pebbles skidded underfoot, dry grass scratched my legs. I pushed uphill, vision shaking, the world narrowing to one thought—

Herike Village sat beside a natural spring. Everyone knew that. Irrigation ditches. Five reservoirs. Old infrastructure, but it worked.

North Reservoir.

It sat on a hill, grass and stone, tucked away from the main road. Too far for the first fire engines to reach. I was right. No trucks yet, but sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder.

Time was shrinking.

I reached the tank and didn’t hesitate. I grabbed a bucket and dumped water over my head. Cold stabbed my scalp. My breath hitched hard. Steam rolled off my skin almost instantly as the heat reclaimed me. I splashed myself again. And again. And again.

No time to complain.

I tossed the bucket aside and straightened, chest heaving. From here, I could see the village clearly.

My house sat near the center. Six blocks in. The flames there were probably thinner, nothing like the wall of fire choking the outskirts. At least, that's what it seems from here. A ring of fire. A shell to trapped everyone inside the village.

If I could break through the outside, I might breathe again.

“Alright,” I whispered.

Then I ran straight at the fire.