The fireball tore through the night, screaming toward Kael.

  For a heartbeat, he didn’t move. His legs were frozen, his throat raw from screaming. The world narrowed to fire rushing at him—brighter than the sun, hotter than the breath of hell itself.

  And then—something inside him tore open.

  A searing light ignited in his left eye, burning like molten gold. Kael gasped as the world twisted, every ember, every flicker of flame carving itself into his vision. His chest felt like it would split apart, veins surging with a power he had never touched before.

  The fireball Alex had cast—Kael’s eye caught it. Reflected it. Claimed it.

  Flame burst into his palms, wild and unstable, like holding the wrath of a dying star. Heat scorched his skin, yet it did not consume him. Instead, the fire bent to him, as though it had always been his to command.

  Alex stumbled back, the smirk wiped from his face.

  “Th-that’s not possible…” he stammered, his voice cracking.

  Kael’s scream ripped through the courtyard, no longer fear—but rage. The flames obeyed his fury. Not one fireball. Not two. Six blazing orbs tore from his hands, spiraling through the night like fiery comets.

  The courtyard exploded.

  Stone cracked, walls buckled, and the old beams of the orphanage split apart. Fire leapt greedily from window to window, swallowing curtains, beds, and doors. The orphanage, Kael’s only home, burned brighter than the moon.

  Screams erupted inside. Children’s voices shrieked in terror, caretakers shouting desperately to guide them to safety. The fire spread too fast, consuming everything. The laughter that once filled these halls, the warmth of shared meals, the fragile peace Kael had always known—it all melted into chaos.

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  Kael staggered forward, his vision flickering between blinding flame and the pulsing light in his eye. The ground trembled underfoot as another blast shook the walls apart.

  Alex shielded his face, terror flashing in his eyes.

  “What… are you?!” he cried. His words were lost in the roar of fire.

  Kael stood amidst the blaze, his lone eye glowing with unearthly light. His tears boiled away on his cheeks, replaced by fire and hate. The storm inside him would not stop. Flames danced across his hands, eager, begging to be unleashed again.

  And yet, as he turned, he saw the orphanage collapse in on itself. A wall caved, trapping cries within. The roof groaned once before falling in a wave of sparks.

  The screams stopped.

  Kael’s body shook violently. The golden light in his eye pulsed once, twice—and then dimmed. His knees buckled, and he sank to the ground, the fire dying around his fingertips.

  Smoke stung his lungs. His breath came ragged. His mind screamed with only one thought: What have I done?

  He pushed himself to his feet, stumbling across the ruins. The air burned hot, filling his throat with ash. He coughed, his voice breaking.

  “I… I didn’t mean… I didn’t…” His words caught, swallowed by the crackle of fire.

  He pressed his hands to his face, but the golden glow leaked through his fingers, betraying him. He couldn’t turn it off. Couldn’t shut it away.

  For the first time in his life, Kael was afraid—not of Alex, not of fire, but of himself.

  The sound of horns pierced the night.

  From the streets below, armored riders galloped forward, their banners snapping in the wind. The City Wardens—enforcers of the High Council. Cloaked in crimson and bronze, their halberds gleamed with runes that shimmered against the smoke.

  Kael’s heart thundered. If they saw him, if they discovered what he had done—it was over. He would not be seen as a boy. Only a weapon.

  Panic seized him. With a final, broken glance at the orphanage—the ashes of the only home he had ever known—Kael turned and fled into the shadows.

  ---

  The Wardens stormed the courtyard, their chants of binding magic weaving through the smoke. They carved paths with enchanted steel, pulling survivors from the rubble. The orphanage was little more than a skeleton of charred beams and broken stone.

  “Over here!” a voice cried.

  Two figures were dragged from the wreckage—Eric and Alex. Burned, trembling, barely alive. Alex clutched the stump of his left arm, screaming until his voice broke.

  The Warden-Captain’s eyes narrowed. “Who caused this?”

  Eric’s lips trembled, but when his gaze met the captain’s, it hardened.

  “It was him,” he rasped. “The boy. Kael. He did this.”

  A hush fell.

  Alex lifted his head, his voice raw with venom. “His eye… it wasn’t human. I saw it. Fire came from him. He’s a monster. A demon child.”

  The Wardens exchanged grim looks. Behind them, others who were around at that time whispered their own accounts—glimpses of a boy standing before the blaze, his eye burning with unnatural fire, before vanishing into the night.

  Piece by piece, the truth twisted into something undeniable.

  Kael was no victim. He was the cause.

  ---

  By dawn, word had already spread across the city. Not through ink and paper, but through town criers, heralds, and gossip spilling through the markets like wildfire.

  The decree of the High Council was swift:

  WANTED: KAEL OF THE CURSED EYE

  Arson. Murder. Bringer of Calamity. Approach with wards and steel.

  His name, once nothing more than a whisper in an orphanage, was now etched into the city’s memory as a curse.

  Kael didn’t know yet. He was still running, still choking on the ashes of the life he had destroyed. But the world had already passed its judgment.

  He was not a victim. He was the monster.

  And the hunt had begun.