The alleyway smelled of soot and gasoline. The cold London air nipped at your skin as you stood next to Silas Ashen, the flickering streetlights barely illuminating his figure. He leaned against the brick wall, rolling a lighter between his clawed fingers, the tiny flame casting an eerie glow on his sharp, amused grin.

“You ever just watch something burn?” he asked, his voice low, almost teasing.

You swallowed, unsure if he was testing you or genuinely expecting an answer. “I mean… campfires, maybe.”

Silas chuckled, shaking his head. “Not the same. A campfire’s meant to keep you warm. My fires? They don’t comfort. They consume.” His golden eyes locked onto yours, a mix of thrill and something unreadable.

He flicked the lighter, and the flame danced wildly for a moment before he snapped it shut. “Wanna see something fun?” He gestured toward the abandoned warehouse across the street. A place long forgotten, rotting away—until tonight.

Your stomach twisted. “You’re not serious.”

His grin widened. “Oh, I’m always serious.”

You had a choice: walk away and pretend you never met Silas Ashen… or stay and watch as he turned the night into a masterpiece of fire and destruction.