Page 47 of Lost in Fire

I’d expected this, after what Vanya told me, but seeing the proof before me is different. “Show me,” I say quietly.

Ember hesitates only briefly before extending her hand, palm up. A small flame appears, dancing above her skin. It flickers between crimson and gold, the unmistakable signature of Rossewyn magic. The same power that runs in my veins.

Without conscious thought, I extend my own hand and summon a matching flame. Our fires recognize each other, stretching across the space between us, tendrils of magic reaching toward one another like sentient creatures seeking connection.

“That’s never happened before,” she whispers, watching our magic dance together. “Mom couldn’t do this with me.”

“No, she wouldn’t be able to.” I extinguish my flame and step closer. “This is Rossewyn magic. It responds to our bloodline.”

Ember doesn’t extinguish her flame. Instead, she shapes it into a small dragon that flies in circles above her palm. The control, the precision—she’s had excellent training.

“Rossewyn?” she asks, cocking her head.

“Yes.” I nod. “It’s our line. An ancient witch line, connected to dragons for centuries.”

She stares down at the tiny dragon in her hand, as if mesmerized. “Why did you never look for her?” The question comes suddenly, sharply. “If you loved her so much, why did you believe she was dead?”

The accusation stings, but I don’t flinch. “I watched her burn,” I say, the memory vivid despite the years. “My position required that I witness the execution. I saw dragon fire consume what I believed was her body.” My jaw tightens at the image still burned into my mind.

“And now?” She closes her fist, extinguishing the flame. “Now that you know she’s alive? That I exist?”

“Now that I know you’re mine, everything changes,” I say simply.

Her eyes flash. “I’m not yours. You don’t know me.”

“No,” I agree, respecting her anger. “I don’t. But you are my blood. And in our world, that means something.”

She paces away, restless energy radiating from her. “Mom said you’re working with the Aurora Collective now. That you’ve turned against the Syndicate.”

“Yes.”

“Why should I believe you? How do I know this isn’t a trap?”

“You shouldn’t believe me,” I tell her honestly. “Trust should be earned, not given.”

My answer seems to surprise her. She stops pacing and turns to face me fully.

“What exactly am I?” The question comes abruptly, but I sense she’s been waiting her entire life to ask it.

“You’re the best of both worlds,” I say, watching her carefully. “Dragon from your mother’s bloodline, witch from mine. A powerful, magical combination.”

She doesn’t look shocked. Instead, relief washes over her face. “You know, I always knew there was something different about me. Something Mom wouldn’t explain.” Her hands clench at her sides. “All my life, I’ve felt… incomplete. Like pieces of me were missing.”

I nod, understanding. “Your dual nature is rare, but not unprecedented. Many of the older clans worked hard to prevent such unions, but they’ve happened throughout history.”

“Is that why they want me dead?”

“Perhaps. Maybe you represent what they fear most—change. The end of their controlled bloodlines and ancient hierarchies.” Imove closer, within arm’s reach now. “But you’re also proof that their entire worldview is flawed.”

Ember absorbs this, brow furrowed in thought. Then, without warning, her hand darts out and grabs my wrist. I allow it, suppressing the instinct to break free. Her touch sends a current through me—a magical recognition, blood calling to blood.

She feels it too. Her eyes widen.

“You really are my father,” she whispers.

“Yes.” My voice is suddenly husky.

She releases me abruptly and steps back, visibly shaken. I give her the space she needs, though everything in me wants to protect her from what’s coming.

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