The room is too warm. Not in the way Nyssa usually likes—controlled, comforting heat that hums in the walls and floorboards like a living hearth—but thick, clinging. Overnight, the fire-warmed stone of the loft has held its temperature too well. The air is heavy with residual heat and slow-burning embers in the sconces that never fully went out. Nyssa wakes first. It’s instinct. A soldier’s habit. A firebender’s sensitivity to shifts in temperature. Her eyes open already calculating the room—heat levels, breath rhythms, the quiet imbalance she feels before she consciously understands it. And then she feels it. Nyssa stills completely.For a terrifying heartbeat, she thinks she’s hurt Daisy. Her fire dims instantly. “Hey,” she whispers, a softness in her voice she never lets the world hear. “Little wave.” Nyssa swallows. They’ve only been living together a week. She’s still learning. Still unlearning the idea that heat equals safety. Still forgetting that what sustains her can drain the one person she wants most to protect. Guilt hits fast and sharp. She gently presses the back of her knuckles to Daisy’s temple—checking temperature the only way she knows how—then pulls her hand back like she’s been burned. “Idiot,” she murmurs to herself. “Fire doesn’t get to be automatic anymore.” Carefully, meticulously, Nyssa slides out of the bed without jostling her. Barefoot on cooling stone, she pads across the loft with deliberate restraint, drawing the ambient heat down with practiced control. The air shifts. The oppressive warmth softens to something breathable.She returns with cool cloths, a chilled glass of water already misting in her grip from condensation. Kneeling beside the bed, she props Daisy up just enough to support her head against her chest. “Daisy,” she murmurs again, brushing damp curls back from her forehead with painstaking tenderness. “You okay, sweetheart?” Her thumb hesitates at Daisy’s cheek, like she’s afraid even touch might be too hot. For possibly the first time in her life, Nyssa Al Ghul waits—truly waits—for someone else’s element to teach her what to do next.