Page 75 of Lost in Fire

“You’re doing that thing again,” Ember says, stabbing her salad with unnecessary force.

“What thing?”

“The brooding stare. Like you’re trying to see through walls all the way to Mom.” She takes a drink, then adds more quietly, “I do it too.”

“Sorry. I was—”

Pain explodes through my skull. White-hot agony that drops me forward, my forehead nearly hitting the table. Around me, conversations dim as if heard through water.

Then her voice, desperate and breaking, tears through the bond we’ve maintained across decades of separation:

“They know. Protect Ember.”

The words come with fragments—terror, violation, the sensation of mental walls crumbling under assault. I feel her pain as clearly as if it were my own, the desperate struggle to hide what matters most.

“Hargen?” Ember’s voice sounds far away. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

I try to speak, but another wave crashes over me. Vanya’s fear floods through me, followed by something worse—the systematic destruction of everything she’s built to protect herself.

Then I feel Ember’s hand on my shoulder as she leans across the table. She gasps, snatching her hand away.

“Mom,” she whispers hoarsely. “I can feel her too. She’s hurting.”

I look up to find Ember clutching her chest, her breathing shallow. The fork falls from her other hand, clattering against the plate. Ember’s hands tremble. As I watch, scales begin manifesting along her knuckles, silver-edged and sharp. Her fingernails extend into claws that dig into the table’s surface.

“I can’t stop it,” she says frantically, staring at her transformed hands in shock.

The conversations around us falter. Other Collective members notice the sudden manifestation, heads turning toward ourtable. A few stand, ready to help or defend depending on the situation.

I reach for her hands, covering the scales with my palms. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Mom’s not.” Ember’s voice cracks. “They’re hurting her. I can feel it.”

The scales fade gradually, but her distress remains sharp and bright between us. I’ve never seen her magic respond to emotion this way—protective instincts overriding conscious control.

“We need Viktor,” I say, standing and helping her up.

The walk to Viktor’s office feels endless. Every step carries us further from the woman whose pain still echoes through our bond. Ember stays close beside me, her breathing still uneven.

Viktor looks up as we enter, immediately sensing something’s wrong. Ancient texts spread across his desk—research into hybrid manifestation patterns that I recognize from the covers.

“What happened?” he asks, pushing his seat back and straightening.

“Vanya’s been compromised.” The words come out rough. “They’re doing something to her.”

Viktor’s expression sharpens. “How certain are you?”

“We both felt it,” Ember interrupts, stepping forward despite the tremor in her voice. “She’s in trouble!”

I describe the message, the fragments of her experience that came through our connection. Viktor listens without interrupting, his face growing more concerned with each detail.

“A dual confirmation through separate bonds,” he murmurs when I finish. “That’s significant. And troubling.”

“So what do we do?” Ember demands.

Viktor’s jaw tightens. “Our extraction team deployed yesterday on another operation. Dragon exposure incidents in three human cities—we can’t ignore the political ramifications.”

My heart drops. “When will they return?”

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