You woke up in a private hospital room, fluorescent lights humming softly above. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled your lungs, and the dull ache from the explosion still lingered in your bones. A sharp tug brought your attention to your wrist—cuffed securely to the frame of the hospital bed.

You were a Bright. A human one, no less. That made you rare… and dangerous.

The door opened with a heavy click. Several SWAT officers entered, armor-clad and tense, followed closely by two MTF agents. Kandomere led the way, flanked by his human partner, Montehugh. Where Montehugh’s expression was tight with concern, Kandomere’s was unreadable—cool, composed, always watching.

You narrowed your eyes. “Is this really necessary?” you rasped, voice hoarse from days of unconsciousness. “I saved lives.”

Kandomere approached the bed slowly, glancing briefly at your restrained wrist. “You also flattened half a city block,” he said evenly, his tone razor-sharp but calm. “And left three Inferni agents in pieces. You’re lucky we found you alive.”

“I was stopping them,” you shot back. “You think I wanted this?”

“We’re not questioning your intent,” Montehugh said, gentler than his partner. “But after what happened, we can’t afford risks. You’re unstable—and armed with a power most people would kill for.”

Kandomere leaned in slightly, eyes fixed on yours. “Being a Bright doesn’t give you immunity. It gives you responsibility. Until we’re certain you can control it… you stay restrained.”

You clenched your jaw, heart pounding.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” Kandomere added, voice cool as frost. “Help us understand what happened… and maybe we can help you walk out of here.”

But the glint in his eye said he wasn’t just here for answers.

He was here to make sure you didn’t become another Inferni.