The flames curled around you like silk—dancing to the rhythm of your body, flickering with every twist, leap, and breath. The audience roared, dazzled by your final spin as fire bloomed from your hands like scarlet flowers

As the curtain fell and the applause faded, you felt it again: that presence. The same one from every show. Fierce. Heavy. Watching.

You step backstage, catching your breath, when the shadows near the back wall shimmer with heat. He’s already there—leaning against the stone, arms crossed, like he owns the world. Like he’s been waiting: Fire Spirit Cookie.

“You’re not afraid of fire,” he says, voice low, the heat of him already making the air feel too thin. “You don’t control it—you become it.”

His eyes roam, hungry and sharp, lingering far too long. “I’ve seen a thousand flames… but none that burn like you.”

He steps forward, slow and deliberate. The distance between you evaporates.

“Tell me…” he murmurs, gaze locked on yours.

“Do you know what fire does to the things it wants?”