Page 2 of Bound in Flames

I hesitated as a lump formed in my throat. “Because it’s what my mother would have done,” I said, my voice quiet but steady. Knowing I could do some good, however small, was enough to make me smile. The world was cruel, and I couldn’t change it, but helping them, even in this tiny way, felt like defiance—a rebellion against the darkness.

The boy’s grip on the basket loosened as he passed out food to the others. The youngest clung to his side, their small hands clutching at the meat like it was the most precious thing in the world. Their hunger was so raw, so real, that I felt my own bitterness surge again. My father’s voice echoed in my mind, berating me for wasting his money, for daring to make a choice of my own. He’d beat me for this, but I didn’t care. Let him. At least this would be worth it.

“Thank you.” His was voice barely audible, but the gratitude in his eyes burned brighter than any words could convey.

I nodded, stepping back further. “Stay safe.” The words felt hollow as I said them.

As I turned to leave, I felt their eyes on me. It wasn’t judgment or fear, but something softer. Hope, perhaps. It was a fragile thing, a flickering candle against the encroaching dark, but it was enough to fuel a warmth deep in my chest. My fingers tingled as it rushed through my bloodstream, burning away the lingering chill of my own hopeless fate and it numbed the ache that gnawed at me.

But the warmth didn’t last. As the shadows of the alley swallowed me, the weight of the world pressed against my shoulders once more. That small spark of hope felt almost cruel, a reminder of everything this wretched world had stolen from them. My jaw tightened, and my hands curled into fists, nails digging into my palms. Hope was all I could give them, but it wasn’t enough. Not for them, and not for me.

When I returnedto the square, the world came rushing back. The stench of unwashed bodies mingled with the tang of sour ale and the coppery bite of freshly butchered meat. The airwas heavy, thick with smoke that curled lazily from vendors' makeshift stoves, the bitter scent of charred bread mixing with the sharper aroma of overripe fruit. My boots scuffed the uneven cobblestones, each step punctuated by the distant clanging of a blacksmith’s hammer and the braying of a mule too stubborn to move.

The crowd pressed in on all sides, voices rising and falling in a chaotic symphony. My father’s figure loomed at the far end of the plaza, a storm of anger barely contained in the rigid lines of his posture. His face was a mottled shade of red, the kind that made me want to flinch before he even spoke. His boots struck the ground in a steady, deliberate rhythm as he marched toward me, his presence cutting through the chaos.

The noise of the market dulled, muffled by the pounding in my ears. My heart hammered against my ribs, the sound so loud it drowned out the world, and I felt as if I were walking through water, each step dragging me closer to the inevitable.

“What is this?” he barked, his voice low but venomous. His eyes fell to my empty basket and the few coins clutched tightly in my hand. “Where is the rest?”

I swallowed hard, gripping the basket tightly against my hip. The echo of the boy’s thanks rang in my ears, a fragile shield against his anger. “It’s what I could manage.” My voice was steady despite the tremor in my chest.

“Don’t lie to me, Cleo,” he snapped, stepping closer. His lips curling into a sneer. “You think I don’t know you’ve wasted what little we have? What did you spend it on? Trinkets?Yourself?”

“No,” I said quickly, the defiance I’d felt earlier curling into something sharper. “I gave it to people who needed it.”

His eyes widened in disbelief. Then the fury returned, it was white-hot. “Ungrateful little bitch!” he spat, his voice rising enough to draw the attention of passersby. “You think you’rebetter than me? Throwing away money we can’t afford to lose on beggars? You’re as worthless as your mother!”

The words hit me harder than the slap that followed. Pain flared across my cheek, hot and sharp, but it was his words that burned deeper. The market seemed to tilt for a moment before I steadied myself, the dropped basket laid forgotten at my feet. The onlookers turned away, faces blank or carefully neutral. No one intervened.

“She would have done the same.” I kept my voice low but audible. I didn’t look at him, focusing instead on the uneven stones beneath my feet. “Children should never be hungry.”

He grabbed my arm, his grip bruising as he leaned closer, his breath hot and soured by day-old malted ale. “Don’t you dare talk about her,” he hissed, each word laced with venom.“You are a fool.”

Heat prickled behind my eyes, but I blinked hard to chase the tears away. His fingers dug into my arm, each press sending a fresh jolt of pain rippling to my shoulder. My teeth ground together, muscles taut with defiance. A tremor threatened to betray me, coiling tight in my throat, but I shoved the words past it. “You can beat me, but you can’t decide who I am.”

His cruel laugh drew a larger crowd of market-goers. “You think this will save the farm? They are nothing! It will never be enough.Youwill never be enough.”

Something inside me snapped. The anger that I’d been holding back surged forward like a storm. “I’m doing what I can! You’re the one who gambled everything away! Why am I the one paying for your mistakes?” I shouted, the words trembling with a mix of fury, desperation, and disgust.

I watched as his jaw tightened, the muscles rippling beneath his skin as his lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. Shadows seemed to gather in his eyes, swirling like the sky before a violentstorm. “How dare you! Just like your mother. Good for nothing but spreading your legs and causing trouble."

The second slap snapped my head to the side, heat exploding across my cheek. The sharp crack echoed through the square, freezing the bustling crowd in its wake. My breath hitched, the sting of the blow clawing at my composure, but the murmurs that followed hit harder. Each whisper pierced like a needle, threading humiliation through my skin. I bit down hard, teeth grinding, as my anger surged to meet the shame, locking my spine straight when all I wanted was to shrink into nothing. They just watched. Faces a mixture of pity and morbid fascination. None of them stepped forward.Cowards.

“You’re a disgrace,” he spat. “You’ll bring nothing but ruin to this family. I should have sold you off when you were younger and worth more coin.”

my vision tunneled and the world around me blurred. Something rose within me, an anger I couldn’t control. My hands clenched into fists, and the air around me seemed to shift, heavy with unseen energy. A low hum began to vibrate through my body, growing stronger with every heartbeat, coming from the curled warmth inside my chest.

The ground beneath us groaned, a deep vibration that seemed to echo through my very bones before it cracked open Energy surged through me like a fire roaring in my veins, both terrifying and exhilarating. Thick green vines erupted from the cobblestones, their movements fluid yet deliberate, as though they had a will of their own. I could feel their presence—alive, connected to me—as they coiled around my father’s boots.

The heat inside me surged, my fingers tingling and my breath quickening. The vines twisted higher, their grip tightening, and I felt the strain of the cobblestones groaning beneath their weight. My father’s eyes were wide with shock, a flicker of fear breaking through his fury as he stumbled back, clawing desperately at themagic. His panicked movements only seemed to provoke them, their coils tightening in response to his struggle like a predator closing in on its catch.

The crowd gasped, stumbling back in a frantic wave, like prey scattering from a predator. Some clutched their children, dragging them away, while others craned their necks, drawn by a mix of fear and fascination. Whispers rippled through them, cutting through the chaos.

“Dark conjurer,” someone muttered, the word laced with dread.

“Dangerous—”

I stared at the vines in horror, my chest heaving as the energy surged through me, unrestrained. I hadn’t meant to do this. I hadn’t even known I could. My father’s face twisted with fear as he tore at the vines, his panicked voice rising above the crowd.

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