Page 53 of Embers of Midnight
“Human first,” Darian says. “Small flame. Five-count hold. Twice.”
I find the thread under my ribs, pull it into my palms. It wants to climb. I don’t let it. Hold for five. Release. Again. Breath hits the back of my throat, spreads. The ring on the floor glows just enough.
“Good,” he says. The word lands solid.
“Shift next,” Ronan says, low. “Full, then back. We’ll signal. No words.”
I nod. Open the door inside me all the way.
The change takes me whole. Heat floods out; bones answer; the world jumps wider. Hooves grip smooth stone; horn weight settles like a fact. I can’t speak in this body, so I listen.
Ronan moves into my periphery, steady heat, one pace off my flank. Darian holds up his hand, fingers counting time.
Edge.I let the fire rise until the meter ticks into the yellow. Steam lifts from the ring. My breath rumbles, hot and even.
Hold five.Darian taps his thigh—one, two, three, four, five. I keep it level. The wardline brightens and stays.
Back.I lower output a notch at a time. The hum drops. The meter settles.
We repeat. He cuts the room’s hum so I can’t lean on sound; I use pressure instead—the weight through hooves, the pull along tendon, the way heat pools in the chest before it runs. Ronan’s palm hovers near my withers like a guardrail without touching. On the third pass, the heat tries to sprint. I stamp once, reset my stance, drag it down. Darian’s mouth tips, just a little. I don’t need the praise. My body takes it anyway.
Last set. He signalsedge and backagain, then lifts two fingers:faster cycle.I push up, hold two, drop, up, drop. Sweat darkens the fur along my neck; the ring stays intact. The meter clicks green.
Darian lowers his hand. “That’s enough.” He keeps his voice calm, not loud. He knows I can’t answer out loud. “Come back when you’re ready.”
I breathe once, twice, then pull the door shut. Skin and hands again. Knees soft. The room is suddenly larger in the human way. I’m shaking, but it’s the clean kind.
Ronan hands me a towel. I wipe my face; the cotton scratches in a way that proves I’m here.
“Again?” I ask, because the part of me that wants control is a menace.
“Once more, human only,” Darian decides. “Then we stop.”
I set a flame the size of a coin and walk it along my palm without kissing skin. Five-count. Out. My shoulders drop like they forgot how.
“Enough,” he says, exactly when my pride wants one extra rep. He offers water, not a speech.
Ronan peels the tape from my wrists slow so the skin doesn’t complain. His thumbs graze the thin skin there by accident on purpose. My breath stutters. He hears it; he doesn’t press. He just looks at me like a promise and steps back.
I drink until the glass sweats. The meter on Darian’s slate shows a tidy arc: climb, hold, clean return. “Good control,” he says. “Both forms.”
“Try not to look so surprised,” I mutter, and fail to hide the grin.
“Wasn’t surprised,” he answers, deadpan. “Was pleased.”
We kill the wards to a murmur. My legs are jelly in a satisfying way. Someone—Ash—left chili in the kitchen with a note that sayseat or I hex your socks. I plan to live.
Ronan touches the top of my spine for one heartbeat on the way out. Warmth, weight, gone. It shouldn’t do what it does to my pulse. It does.
In the kitchen, a covered plate waits with a note in Ash’s messy scrawl:eat or I will carry you.I eat standing up. Ronan stealsone bite like a tax. Darian pretends he isn’t guarding the door while absolutely guarding the door.
Upstairs, my room hums hello. I text Ash:Friday is yours. He sends back six flames and a knife. Subtlety is dead; I don’t miss it.
I lie down under the heavy quilt and let the day stack itself in my head: the shower pep talk, the word I couldn’t unsay; four men who didn’t make me regret it; Caelum’s loneliness under his joy; Taya’s laugh, Laz’s tilted mouth; Cassandra’s blade-smile blunted; Draven’s tea; Ronan’s pinky, Ash’s cheek, Darian’s meter.
I want all of it. I’m not ashamed of that anymore.
Breath in. Breath out. Heat where I put it. Friday will be loud. Morning tea will be sharp. Tonight is quiet, and I earned it. I shut my eyes and fall under fast, held by a house that knows me and a pull that doesn’t scare me like it used to.
