By some miracle, I must succeed in getting off to sleep, because the next I know I'm being wrenched out of it by the shockingly loud intrusion of voices. With a jolt, I recognise one, its soft edge balling into a fist that doubles the throb in my chest.

Clutching a spot somewhere near my heart, I stumble to my feet. At least my legs don't protest at the mere effort of supporting me now, although I am momentarily disoriented. No wonder the voices sound so close. I'm right beside the door. I must have fallen asleep curled up against it.

It was the only place I could hear anything of outside. Occasionally, I remember catching the edge of Fayre's deeper breaths. It felt a little less lonely to press myself as close to her as possible.

I've no interest in company now, not when it involves him. I scramble as far from the door as possible, throwing myself back on the right seat and huddling into its corner. My knees draw up to my chest. I'm desperate for someone to visit, to hear something other than my own heart beating on endlessly, yet every fibre protests at the thought of being in his presence.

"Just close your eyes."

A shiver cuts through me like a blade. Maybe it's his voice I want to flee from.

The door shifts. I flinch, hugging my knees in. I've started shaking again. Or maybe I never stopped. I try to quell it, holding my breath, fingers curling into the torn material at my calf, but it's still too soon when the door finally swings open.

Harlow is still in his black tunic, hair combed straight. No weapons hang at his hip -- the same as it was last night, I realise. After all, if he truly is Jeía, he doesn't need a blade to cause harm. Sunlight filters in over his shoulder. I want to creep forward and see more of it, the streets and valley beyond gilded in yellow light, but fear freezes me in place.

"Open the door only when I call," he says to the soldier behind without removing his gaze from me.

"Yes, sir," someone replies. Fayre has been replaced. I don't even get a chance to make out the new soldier's face before Harlow steps through and outside is sealed away once more.

He approaches carefully. There's a bowl swimming with brown liquid in his hands that he sets down on the seat next to me. "For you."

I take deliberate care not to look at it. "I don't want it."

He sighs, perching on the seat opposite, still a pace away. At least he keeps a sliver of distance. "It'll go cold if you leave it."

"I don't care." My voice cracks. Bravery isn't coming as easy as it did last night.

Leaning forward, he tries to catch my eye. I twist away, staring at the wall. I hate that gentle concern shining in his gaze, the softness shaping his features. It isn't real. He's pretending to care, just like Fiesi, just like everyone, only to get what he wants from me.

"I need you to eat, Nathaniel," he says.

"You need me to do a lot of things," I mutter. "I'm not doing any of them."

"Then don't do it for me. Just eat."

"No," I snap. The tunic he gifted marked me as his prize, his property. I'm not taking anything he gives me again.

With another long exhale, he rises. "Perhaps I should leave this conversation for another day."

"No." Desperation leaks out as I whip around to face him. This isn't loneliness, I tell myself. This is a hunger for answers. "No, we can talk. You can tell me what you did to my flame."

He pauses, then returns to his place on the seat, studying me. It's all I can do not to flinch at the pierce of his green eyes. "I locked it away."

"Where?" My fingers itch under my gloves. I flex them, brushing against that empty sensation again. There should be something there, but there isn't. The shackles weigh on my wrists.

Harlow's eyes flick to them. "Deep inside you. A place you couldn't reach no matter how hard you tried."

My hand drifts to my chest. So the flame is still there, right at the bottom of that chasm, lurking so tantalizingly in a nook I can't grasp. It's hardly a relief.

"I didn't want to have to do this." He shrugs. "If that's any comfort."

"It isn't." Fists curling, I jerk up to look at him. "I want it back."

"And you'll get it back, as soon as you start cooperating."

His gaze hardens, stern. He's trying to command me. Fury squirms under my skin, uncomfortably warm. I shove to my feet, hoping that heat rages in my glare. "Give it back."

Harlow doesn't flinch. He simply flicks his wrist in an almost lazy movement, and the air shimmers, blurring the hard lines of his face. When I attempt to touch it, the barrier suddenly solidifies, and a sharp sting races down my arm. With a yelp, I stumble back into the seat.

With a wave of his hand, the barrier dissipates, but my heart still races. His magic clashes distinctly with the dull ache clinging to my shackles. I can only relate the feeling he radiates to the emptiness coiled inside. My fists clench tighter.

He only raises a brow. "I trust you've figured out by now that I'm Jeía?"

"I'm not stupid," I mutter.

"Then you understand why I chose to take such a measure."

Heat claws up my throat. "Yes," I snarl. "You want control over me. You want a weapon, and the easiest way to capture one is to trap it in a sheath."

His lips quirk. "That's quite the metaphor."

"Let me free." I glare across at him.

Shifting, he rests one leg over the other. "You were losing control. If I hadn't trapped your flame when I did, you would have killed me and my entire regiment."

"Maybe I would have preferred that," I snap. It takes a few seconds for the words to sink in. Withdrawing, I slump into the seat. "Sorry." I cringe at the thought of apologising to him, but it isn't right to wish him dead. Not any amount of pain makes that right.

I'd still have done it, though, given the choice. That realisation only curls me further into myself.

"Why didn't you do this when you first met me?" I ask after a beat. If he had, he could have prevented Edita's death, and Tyler and Camdyn, and even Oswin. Then again, he never seemed to care about them at the time.

"I told you I didn't want to do this." Harlow's gaze drills into me. "It was always a last resort. I tried being kind to you--"

"You weren't really kind." My arms wrap around my chest. "It was a trick."

He studies me, then lets out something of a breathless laugh. "You think I'd be bringing you food and explaining all this to you if I didn't care about you?"

"If it means you get what you want." I meet his eyes evenly. I'm done being fooled by false kindness.

He folds his arms. "I could have made this a lot worse for you. There are more than a dozen soldiers outside who would be more than happy to hack bits off you if I let them. Would you rather that?"

I hate the cold spike of fear that jolts through me. "No."

"I could be torturing you into helping me. But I don't want you to be my weapon, Nathaniel." His gaze softens. "I want you to be my ally."

Liar. Biting down on my tongue, I resist the urge to lunge for him again. He'll only send another jarring wave of his magic to grate against my nerves. "You are torturing me," I say quietly, dropping my arms to my sides.

Leaning back, he shakes his head. "I'm protecting you."

My nails dig into the seat. "From what?"

"From doing something you'll regret."

There's no response to that. He's right. Undirected instinct fizzles in my veins, deepening the ache in my chest. Gritting my teeth, I look down. It isn't difficult to find another shred of curiosity. "What would you have done if I'd stayed?"

"Exactly what I said. We would have boarded a ship to Neyaibet, and I would have trained you. You would have been safe. With any luck, this outcome wouldn't have been necessary, and I wouldn't have had to waste time and energy chasing you through the mountains." He inclines his head. "Although, I hadn't seen Ligari Yona in years until a few days ago. I can thank you and the Kynig boy for that visit."

"Ligari?" I gasp sharply, sitting bolt upright. "Did you hurt her?"

He chuckles. "No." Instead of elaborating, he gestures to my gloves. "I'm afraid I'm not quite as talented as she. Without the help of that barrier, I wouldn't have been able to keep your flame contained for more than a few minutes. Her guidance was very useful in creating those shackles, too." A distant smile touches his lips. "I've always admired that woman."

Her guidance. My heart sinks. "She helped you. She's on your side." Another trick.

Harlow's smile fades with a shake of his head. "I assure you, Ligari has never been on my side." Thoughts I can't read flicker through his eyes. "Neither have the Kynigs, but both your friend and Ligari have been a great help in finding you, whether willing or not."

"But Fiesi..." I trail off, swallowing my protest. Fiesi might have been the reason I escaped, but he is also the reason I've been captured again. Without his attack, I wouldn't have been alone. Sarielle would have protected me.

"Fiesi? Is that his name?" Harlow gives a grunt of amusement. "Finlay Hunter. I should have figured it out far sooner."

"Is..." I linger over the right words. "Is Harlow a false name too?"

"Definitely not."

"Then who are you?" I press.

He spreads his hands. "Harlow Rakis. Captain of Neyaibet's nineteenth regiment." When I wait in silence for more, he raises a brow. "Must I have some secret identity?"

Perhaps not, but the conflict of his magic with such an ordinary man niggles with me for reasons I can't explain. "But you're Enkavmé," I try.

"I never liked those words. Enkavmé, Cormé." He shrugs. "There's just those with power and those without. Some find power in different forms to others." Green lightning skips across his gaze. I flinch as if it strikes me.

"You are Jeía, though." At his slight nod, I shift forward. "Is it normal for Enkavmé to live amongst Cormé? Like you and Fiesi?" The longer I spend in his company, the more questions rise to the surface. If he's willing to answer them, I might as well try. Better than being trapped here alone.

Shaking his head, he folds his arms. "I'm unique in that regard. And I suspect the Kynig boy only joined me in order to get to you."

That figures. Pushing Fiesi from my mind before he can take over, I watch him. "How do I know you're not only here for me as well?"

"There are a lot of reasons I chose the path I did, none of which I have the time or patience to go into." He meets my eyes. "But I won't lie to you. I've wanted to find you ever since I found out you were still alive."

"Yeah." Drawing back, I stare down at my gloves. "So you can use me to kill whoever you want."

"That would be nice," he concedes with a flash of a wry smile, "but my primary goal is to keep you safe."

"Liar." It slips out aloud before I can stop it. I can't bring myself to look up and see that faked gentleness shining in his gaze. "You don't care."

"I do. Is that so hard for you to believe?"

"It's foolish to believe." Not a soul cares. No-one but Sarielle, and even her part of me has begun to doubt. Why would they?

"Noli, look at me."

Even if the name wasn't enough, his tone compels me to obey. Cracked, pleading. His expression mirrors it, the weariness lining his eyes sinking like a stone in my stomach. A pang of sympathy cuts unbidden through me, lodging in my throat.

"How do you know that?" I whisper.

"Your name?" He smiles weakly. "I chose it."

"You..." My mouth dries, raked at by a storm of confusion. "What?"

"It means 'dark' in Aorila's old language. Rather fitting now, I suppose." The corners of his lips twitch downwards. "Back then, I simply didn't want you to be crippled by fear of the dark like so many before you."

I'm sure my heart has stopped. My mind races so fast I can barely slot together the pieces of his words. "You..." I manage, hardly any sound attached to it, trailing off before I can get anywhere.

"This is what I came in here to tell you in the first place. It's a rather difficult thing to come out and say, but, well..." He licks his lips, hesitant, then brushes back a strand of his black hair. A quick glance down. My heart counts out the beats he leaves.

"What?" I try again, more demanding this time.

He exhales. "Alright. Noli, I'm your father."

The air turns to ice. A frigid stream winds over my spine, spreading in a numb wave over my muscles. Stiffly, I force my head to shake. "No." It's the only word I can drag to the surface.

Harlow looks as if he's just handed over some treasured possession only to see it knocked in the dirt. "No?"

"No," I breathe. "You're lying. That's not possible."

"Why not?" The question sounds genuine.

"Because my father is dead." Saying it aloud finally gives some direction to the blind rejection clouding my thoughts. "And he was a Tía. That's why I..." I throw a glance at my gloves, another twinge of longing rippling from the dangling thread of the statement.

"Is that what Ligari told you?"

I nod, fingers curling into the seat's covering.

"Ah." His head drops. "She told you the story she'd prefer rather than the truth."

"Then what's your story?" I mean it to sound like more of a challenge than it does. Helpless curiosity rises to mask it.

He straightens in his seat. "You're aware that your mother was Ligari's sister?" At my nod, he smiles briefly. "Mayci. I met her on a ship to Tarozar. Two teenagers running from home, hoping our simple absence would make some world-shattering difference. Until we discovered there was something to run to."

"What?" I'm almost too nervous to ask. Already, his tone is real, convincing, weaving a chilling web over my bones.

His eyes light. "Power."

I know that look. I've seen it reflected back at me in the face of a blade. "You both chose Adeía." No wonder his magic is so startling, twisted with familiarity.

The slightest dip of a nod. "We'd spent our entire lives suffocated by other's ideals of what we should be. We wanted to be free."

"Free," I echo, the word tasting bitter. My power isn't freedom. It's a wild beast that constantly requires a cage to keep it in check. It's the reason I've spent so much of my life trapped. Setting my jaw, I level his gaze. "If this is your way of preaching the benefits of Adeía to me, save it. I'm tired of being told about my power by those who don't understand."

His head tilts. "What makes you think I don't understand?"

"Because you don't." My hand is rubbing over my chest before I'm aware of it, thumb circling my heart. "No-one does." I watch the creases of my tunic shift under my grip, unsure how to fill the silence.

Audibly, Harlow draws a breath. "Noli--"

"Stop." My head snaps up. "Stop using that name." It doesn't sit right on his tongue. Or maybe it sits too well, rings with the same perfect truth of his story.

"Why?" he asks quietly. "Would you prefer I continue using the artificial name Fiesi Kynig gave you to make himself feel better?"

Whatever response I might have provided chokes itself in the back of my jaw. I return my gaze to the ground, swallowing the surge of emotion that crests at Fiesi's every mention. When Harlow says nothing more, I let my voice stumble onto another track. "Ligari told me that my father is the reason for my flame. How do you explain that?"

"She was referring to Rishi." Harlow's tone hints at a laugh, but it never emerges. "A good friend of ours, for a time. But for whatever reason -- jealousy, regret, I can't pretend to know -- he turned on us. On me, particularly." His sigh invites a brief glance, long enough to see the sadness weighing on his gaze. "I had to run. By the time I came looking for Mayci again, she was gone, and you were..."

"Cursed," I finish for him, hands falling into my lap.

"Lost," he corrects. "In need of finding."

"Alright." I sit up, letting his words filter through, hating the sense they make. "Let's say I believe you. Why didn't you find me earlier?"

Another flicker of lightning crosses his eyes. "You don't think I tried?"

"It took you nine years." Anger long since resolved spikes hollowly in my tone.

"Eight years," he says with such surety a bead of cold fear trickles down the back of my neck. "I found you once. Then I lost you again."

I shake my head, reeling. Deep-rooted resentment is all I can find. "I was in a cell for years. You left me there."

"Would you rather the forest by Katamen?"

The sudden lash of his voice freezes me. The ice melts slowly, seeping through drop by drop. "You mean..." Something in me cracks. "That's real? It's..." My inhale shudders. "Me?"

Apology gleams in his eyes. There's no way I can doubt that. "There's a reason I took your memories."

The silence settles like a thick fog, the meaning behind his words hanging like icicles. All I can do is drown in it. I search for something to say, something to chase away the terror coiling around my heart, but before anything more can occur, a fist raps on the carriage door. We both jerk towards the sound.

"Captain!" a muffled voice calls.

Harlow gets up slowly with a sigh. "I told them not to interrupt us," he mutters as he crosses the carriage. "What is it?"

The door flings open to reveal a panicked-looking soldier, helmet skewed on her head. "We need to leave immediately," she says, tossing a glance over her shoulder. With a jolt, I'm suddenly conscious of the background noise, the nervous tumult knitted together by shouts and loud footsteps. I grip the seat tighter.

Something clicks in Harlow's stance, squaring his shoulders. "Get my horse," he orders the soldier, who scurries away instantly. He looks back at me as he steps out the door. "We'll talk more later. I swear, Noli, I'm only here to keep you safe."

Without giving me chance to reply, he vanishes, the door thudding shut. I tense at the sound. A few moments later, the carriage jerks, setting off at an abrupt pace nearly quick enough to slide me from my seat.

Nerves flutter my pulse. I toss a glance to the door, then the carriage's front where I can hear the horse's hasty trot. Its steps are heavier and more accented than that of people, I'm coming to learn. The air is filled with similar noise, stirred in with so many voices and clangs that I can't attempt to listen without a dizzy wave falling over me. My mind is a flimsy container filled to the brim, heavy and unmovable, each extra splash causing water to spill over its sides. It's too much. Screwing my eyes shut, I lean into the padded back of the seat, trying to steady my breathing whilst ignoring the carriage's persistent sway.

Harlow might be my father. I don't even know whether I want to believe him or not, let alone any idea of the genuine truth. He could be lying to manipulate me. He could be playing on a distant desire for family I buried long ago, and yet resurfaces with unwelcome ache at the thought of it so close.

Or the pain sheltering behind his eyes could be real. Or he could truly care, despite everything else he wants. He's an army captain looking out for his kingdom, but he's also a man who wants a son, the same way I always wanted a father.

Sarielle tried not to talk about her own father once she grew old enough to realise the effect it had on me, but she slipped occasionally. They were close. She loved him. Not in the way Rovena meant love, the way I might love her, but love all the same. Maybe I never gave up on wishing for that.

I press my head into the seat until I reach the hard backing underneath. I'm such a fool. This man has imprisoned my flame, drained me of strength, taken me from Sarielle, and yet here I am dreaming of a reality in which he loves me.

Perhaps it's all just a blanket with which to smother the other thought he's placed in my head. The dark forest. Katamen.

"Are you a monster?"

Shivering, I retreat into myself, biting down the whimper that threatens to emerge at the mere whisper of Everly's innocent voice. It can't be true. I won't let it be. I can't.

My protest echoes over and over, a storm I suffocate in. I'm so lost in its whirlwind that at first I don't hear the agonised cry, or the shriek of a horse. I barely register the carriage jolting to a halt. But one sound that does draw my attention is the familiar crackle of fire, too near, the air hissing with its heat.

Eyes flying open, I shoot to my feet, sweeping a frantic search for its source. I'm too late.

Smoke seeps through the cracks that outline the door. Thick, dark, choking smoke I won't be able to fight this time. I stumble away until my back presses into the furthermost wall, yet the smoke advances, grey wisps growing into hazy clouds that expand far too fast to process. Or to escape. Their touch is already leaking into cleaner air, bitter tendrils drifting in and raking at my throat. My chest heaves.

Sweat clings to my skin. I gasp at the climbing heat, then cough it out, the air scratching at my lungs. Tears well painfully in my eyes. The world spins, the wall shrinking away from my sliding grip. The floor buckles underneath me. I stumble, and my shoulder meets it dully.

I can't see anymore. Everything is a foggy blur, smudged and revolving in a way that makes my head throb. I squeeze my eyes shut, but still they sting. My lungs burn.

The vague thought to get up, to fight my way out, drifts through my mind, but the smoke stifles it. My limbs are too heavy to rise. Faintly, I'm sure I hear someone calling my name. Which one exactly is lost to the endless ringing, the void it resounds into unanswered.

Ironic, really. Fire is what kills me, in the end.

The air is clogged with warmth. The darkness is cool, and so I fall into it, lost to the stretch of empty comfort.

───── ⋆⋅♛⋅⋆ ─────

Fun Fact: I do want to write a prequel with Mayci, Harlow and Rishi. It's a fun story. Who knows which version is more true though *sips tea*

So. Is Harlow telling the truth? He's certainly got a few interesting things to say. It would be nice for our boy to have a father, right--?

Though none of that will matter if the smoke kills him--

- Pup