Chapter One
Chapter One
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get away. Her breath burned like fire in her throat, and though she tried to scream, nothing came out. She didn’t know what she was running from—only that she had to escape. Running, hiding… nothing worked. There was not much surrounding her. It was as if she were running in a black tunnel. Lost, afraid, and alone, she stumbled through the cold darkness, barely able to see a foot ahead. Where was she? Why was she so afraid? What was she running from, and why was it chasing her?
She heard something—someone—behind her. Then, without warning, pain yanked her backward by the hair.
She jolted awake.
Panting heavily, she clutched her chest and gasped for air.
“What was that?” she whispered aloud, trying to steady her breath. Sweat clung to her curls, her clothes damp and sticking to her skin. For a moment, she sat frozen, heart still racing.
She forced herself to stand. Maybe a glass of water would help.
But the cold floor didn’t calm her nerves, and every dark hallway she passed made her pulse quicken. She reached into each room cautiously, flicking on the lights before entering.
Finally, she sighed with relief as she stepped into the kitchen. Empty.
She grabbed a glass from the dish rack and filled it at the fridge. As the water slid down her throat, it felt like salve on a burn.
Still gripping the glass, she leaned back against the counter and closed her eyes, drawing in slow, deliberate breaths.
“It astounds me that you’re still afraid of the dark after all this time,” a deep voice echoed from across the kitchen.
Rue’s eyes snapped open.
Her heart plunged into her stomach as she slowly turned toward the voice.
A man stepped out of the shadows, cloaked entirely in black.
Without thinking, Rue hurled her glass at him.
He dodged it easily. The glass shattered against the wall behind him, the sound sharp and jarring in the quiet room. She flinched.
The man chuckled and took another step toward her.
Panic surged through her veins.
Rue’s eyes darted around the room. Her gaze landed on a frying pan resting on the stove. She didn’t hesitate.
Snatching it up, she charged him and swung with every ounce of her strength. She pictured the pan connecting with his head—giving her just enough time to run.
But it didn’t land.
Instead, she hit the floor hard, breath knocked from her lungs.
For a second, she just lay there, stunned.
“Rue!” the man exclaimed, suddenly kneeling beside her.
She scrambled up before he could touch her and sprinted from the kitchen.
Her hands shook as she slammed and locked every door she could, creating makeshift barriers in her path. Her breathing came in frantic bursts as she finally reached her bedroom.
She threw herself inside, slammed the door shut, and locked it tight.
Chest heaving, Rue backed away, eyes fixed on the door.
She knew it wouldn’t hold him—not for long. Two seconds? Five minutes? She didn’t know how much time she had, but it wouldn’t be enough.
Her eyes landed on the window. Could she climb down?
But before she could act, a soft wisp of air brushed her cheek.
She froze.
“You’re faster than you look,” he said casually, his voice now right beside her.
Rue screamed and spun toward the sound.
He stood by her bed.
How?
The door was still shut—locked. It hadn’t opened. She would’ve heard it.
Her breath hitched as she stared at him. Eyes wide. Heart racing.
Her voice shook. “Who are you? And what do you want with me?” She motioned toward herself, like she needed him to understand just how ordinary she was.
The man chuckled softly.
“What’s so funny?” she snapped, fear bubbling over into frustration.
“Sorry,” he said, clearly amused. “It’s just... the faces you make. You should see yourself.”
Rue scowled, uncertain whether to feel insulted or terrified.
Up close, he didn’t seem quite as menacing as she’d first thought. Broad, yes. Intimidating, definitely. But something about his presence—his voice—carried weight, not violence. Still, she wasn’t ready to trust that instinct.
Was this even real? Or was she dreaming?
She pinched her arm, wincing at the sting.
Nope. Awake.
The man’s smile faded. “Rue,” he said, his voice dropping low.
She stared at him, pleading silently for this nightmare to end.
“Why me?” she whispered, not even realizing she’d spoken aloud.
His expression changed—softened.
She took him in properly for the first time. His skin had been slightly tanned, kissed by the sun, with a few scars scattered across his arms and face. His hair had been dark, almost black, and had fallen in messy waves to his shoulders, often untamed as if he had no time for grooming. His eyes, the color of molten amber, had given him a dangerous and intense aura. A slight stubble had dotted his jaw, adding to his rugged look, and his full lips, when he smiled, had hinted at a hidden warmth beneath the sharp edges of his demeanor. He had typically worn dark, worn clothes, leaning into a look that suggested practicality rather than style, but there had been a certain magnetic quality to him that had made others take notice, drawn in by his strength and mystery.
The man looked down, his mouth twitching like he wasn’t sure where to begin. The silence stretched.
Rue sat heavily on the bed, her thoughts spinning. Fear had started to morph into something else—overwhelm, disbelief, maybe even curiosity.
“Can you at least tell me your name?” she asked.
His eyes widened, then he winced, as if just remembering something important. “I am so sorry. I should’ve introduced myself immediately, but in my defense, you did attack me with a frying pan.”
She rolled her eyes. “And I didn’t even hit you.”
He grinned. “That’s true. Lucky me.”
For a moment, Rue blinked at how strangely normal the conversation was. Shouldn’t she be screaming or calling the cops? Yet here she was... talking to him.
“And that is a very good thing, Rue,” he said, suddenly serious. He knelt in front of her. “My name is Pyro. And I’m here to help you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Help me?”
He nodded. She backed up slightly. Something about the way he said her name stirred something—familiarity, maybe. Confusion tugged at the edges of her mind.
“What are you helping me with?” she asked. “Because last I checked, you’re the one who broke into my house and scared the hell out of me.”
He stood, giving her space, his face troubled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you.”
“Then why are you here?” she demanded. “If not to hurt me, then—”
“I would never hurt you!” he cut in; voice sharp with emotion. “The thought has never crossed my mind.”
She stared at him, stunned by the outburst.
He took a breath, collecting himself. “I’m here because... you’re in danger.”
Her stomach dropped.
“Wh-what?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
Pyro hesitated, as if unsure how much to tell her. He moved toward her again but stopped, then lowered his hands like he didn’t trust himself to keep them at his sides.
“Don’t be afraid. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
For reasons she couldn’t explain, she believed him. Something in his eyes—something ancient, deep—told her he meant every word.
“Then... what’s the danger?” she asked.
“There’s a league of people who believe you should be with them—when you’ve already chosen a side.”
Rue’s brows furrowed. “Chosen a side? What are you even talking about? I just met you!”
He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Why is this always the hardest part?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Always?”
He sat beside her on the bed, gently taking her hands in his. She didn’t pull away, she couldn’t. She just stared.
“Rue,” he said again, voice soft and full of weight, “my name is Pyro, and I have loved you for thousands upon thousands of years.”
“What?” Rue whispered. Her voice cracked.
She yanked her hands away from his. “That’s not funny,” she said, breath catching. “That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking,” Pyro replied softly.
“No, you’re not well,” she muttered, standing. Her head was spinning. “You’re delusional.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Get out.” Her voice trembled.
“Rue—”
“I said get out!”
He raised his hands in surrender and slowly stepped back.
“Okay,” he said gently. “I’ll go.”
Rue stood frozen as he walked toward the door.
Just before slipping out, he glanced over his shoulder.
“You’ll remember soon,” he said.
Then he was gone.
The door never opened.
Rue stood frozen, staring at the space where Pyro had just been.
You’ll remember soon.
Remember what?
She began pacing, her bare feet light on the cold floor, hands pressed to her temples. A sharp ache bloomed behind her eyes—deep, pulsing, like something trying to break through.
Her knees gave out.
She collapsed to the floor, clutching the edge of her bed, breath ragged.
Images—strange and vivid—flashed through her mind. They weren’t dreams. They weren’t hers… but they were.
Flickers of war. A battlefield scorched in red and gold. Faces she didn’t recognize but felt she knew. Pyro, standing tall, dressed in armor, his eyes burning violet. Her—no, someone like her—in different skin, older, stronger. But the eyes…
The eyes were the same.
Her eyes.
Rue gasped and dragged herself up to her knees, gripping the bed like it was the only thing tethering her to reality.
“What’s happening to me?” she whispered.
No answer came.
Only silence… and the thrum of something ancient awakening inside her.
A gust of wind burst through the room, sudden and unnatural, whipping her hair across her face. She yelped, shielding her eyes.
When she looked again—Pyro was there. Standing across the room. Silent. Watching.
“What the hell is going on?” she demanded, her voice sharp and trembling. “Am I dreaming? Am I dead? Did I finally snap and lose my mind?”
Pyro didn’t move. His eyes were soft, but steady. “You’re not insane, Rue. You’re waking up.”
“Waking up?” she snapped. “This feels more like a breakdown. You show up out of nowhere, tell me I’m in danger, that I’ve somehow chosen a side in some ancient war I’ve never even heard of—and then you vanish like a damn shadow?”
He took a careful step towards her. “I know it’s too much. I never wanted this to unfold this way.”
“Then how should it have happened?” she asked, taking a step back. “More vague warnings and cryptic dream sequences? Do you hear how insane this sounds?”
“Yes,” he admitted quietly. “But truth doesn’t always make sense at first. And this? This isn’t me forcing anything on you.” His gaze locked with hers. “You’re remembering because your soul is ready. This—all of this—is coming from you. You’re calling it back.”
“Calling it back?” Rue echoed, her voice thinning.
“Yes,” Pyro said. “Something inside you is waking up. It’s been buried for a long time, but now it’s rising. That’s why everything feels off. You’re starting to remember.”
“Remember what?” she asked, barely a whisper.
Pyro took another slow step forward, like she might bolt if he moved too fast. “Who you really are. What you’ve always been. The pieces are starting to fall into place—even if they don’t make sense yet.”
Rue’s breath caught. Something stirred deep within her. Like a thread tugged gently inside her chest. A flicker. A pressure behind her eyes. Not quite pain—but not comfort either. Just familiar.
She squeezed her eyes shut and reached inward, trying to grasp it—but it slipped away like smoke between her fingers.
“I can’t,” she gasped, shaking her head. “I can’t reach it.”
“You don’t have to right now,” Pyro said gently. “It’s not meant to hit all at once. But you are remembering, Rue. You always do.”
Her hands began to tremble.
“This isn’t real,” she murmured. “None of this is real. It can’t be.”
Pyro’s voice dropped lower. Steady. Grounding. “It’s as real as you are.”
A pause.
“And you are very real.”
Rue opened her mouth to argue, to deny it all—but the words tangled and died in her throat. Her knees gave slightly, and she caught herself against the edge of the bed again. The room didn’t spin. But something inside her did. Tilted. Slid. Like a puzzle piece quietly falling into place after years of being jammed in wrong.
“There was…” she whispered, eyes wide. “A fire.”
Pyro didn’t flinch. “Yes.”
Her voice broke. “And someone… someone was calling me. A man.”
Pyro’s gaze deepened, voice hushed. “Do you remember his voice?”
Rue clutched the table harder, nails digging into the grain. She shook her head. “Not his words. Just the sound of him. Like thunder. Or the ocean in winter.”
“He loved you,” Pyro said, barely above a breath. “More than anything.”
The ache that bloomed in her chest wasn’t nostalgia. It was pain. Old and deep. Not a memory. A wound.
Rue’s voice cracked. “I don’t know who I am.”
Pyro reached toward her—not touching. Just near. Present. Steady. “You will,” he promised. “When it’s time.”
Rue felt a sharp, aching tug deep in her chest. It was raw, almost unbearable, and it stole her breath. The room around her blurred. Shadows flickered, stretched across the walls like dancers—alive. But they weren’t shadows. They were memories. Familiar in a way that felt wrong, like a language half-forgotten.
“Wait…” Rue murmured, her voice shaking, a thread of panic in it. “I—I was there. In the fire. I can feel it. The heat.” Her fingers curled instinctively, as if to protect herself from the phantom burn.
Pyro’s face shifted, just for a moment—a flash of something unreadable. Then he masked it, nodding in silence.
Rue’s heart pounded. She felt the pieces of herself slipping, scattering, breaking into shards of someone else. “Who was he? That man… who was he to me?” Her breath came faster now, the memory both suffocating her and pulling her deeper.
Pyro’s jaw tightened. He stood still, eyes dark. It was clear he was wrestling with something inside, holding back from saying what he knew. But eventually, he spoke, his voice low and strained.
“You were his,” he said softly, and something in his eyes flickered, something Rue couldn’t place.
“H—his?” Rue’s voice cracked. Her chest ached with the words, and the cold of that place—the fire, the burning—crept back into her bones. “What does that even mean?”
Pyro’s expression softened, his gaze flickering between her and some distant thought. For a long moment, he closed his eyes, his lips pressed in a thin line. Then, when he opened them again, there was a quiet sadness in his eyes.
“It means he gave you his heart,” Pyro said, his voice a whisper—so gentle it sent a shiver through her skin.
Rue’s heart skipped a beat, and her breath caught. The words hit her like a punch, deep in her chest, but there was something strangely familiar about the pain. “His heart?” Rue whispered, her voice barely audible. She felt a knot form in her throat. “But… why? Why would he do that?”
Pyro stepped forward, but Rue instinctively drew back. It wasn’t fear of him—no, it was the weight of the memory, pressing down on her chest like a vice. She couldn’t breathe under it. Couldn’t think.
Pyro paused, his expression softened, and then his voice came—soft, hesitant.
“Because... he loved you,” he said quietly, as if the words were meant for her alone.
Rue’s mind spun, trying to reject the thought. “No… no, I couldn’t have known him. Couldn’t have loved him like that.” She shook her head, trying to convince herself, but it didn’t feel right. She felt it—the pull, the ache, the soft thread of longing that hadn’t faded. Not for years. Maybe not for lifetimes.
She had never been special. Just a regular girl. Nothing worth loving. Certainly not by someone in another life. Yet, Pyro’s gaze held her captive, unwavering.
“You were more than that,” he said, his voice thick with something Rue couldn’t name. “More than you realize.”
Rue’s chest tightened as Pyro’s words settled deeper into her mind. She wanted to scream, to shout at him to stop—to stop making her feel like she was losing control of her own thoughts. But there was something in the way he looked at her—something too familiar, like the echo of a memory she couldn’t quite grasp.
The air felt thick around them, and Rue could almost hear the thrum of the earth beneath her feet, like a heartbeat, steady and unrelenting. Her body, still trembling from the weight of the unknown, urged her to run, to escape this strange, suffocating moment. But she couldn’t—couldn’t tear her eyes away from Pyro, even as she desperately wished she could.
“Why are you doing this to me?” Rue whispered, voice barely audible, more to herself than to him. “I—I don’t know you. How can you expect me to believe this?” The words tumbled out in a rush, frantic and unsteady.
Pyro stepped closer again, but this time, Rue didn’t flinch. She couldn’t—there was no room left in her heart for fear, only confusion. He was familiar, but not in a way she could place. His presence felt like the weight of an old story, one she was only now beginning to remember, and it felt wrong—like the page had been torn from the book, and she was left with only fragments.
“I’m not doing this to you,” Pyro’s voice was steady, soft but unyielding. “I’m telling you the truth. You knew him. Loved him.” He hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering to the ground. “And you always will.”
Rue took a step back, her mind racing. A lifetime of memories—his memories—flashed behind her eyes. Every piece of her soul that had been sealed away, every emotion buried beneath the surface, threatened to overwhelm her. She had to stop it. She had to break free from this haunting sense of something. Someone.
She shook her head fiercely, eyes burning with the weight of unshed tears. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the overwhelming flood of memories.
Pyro was silent for a moment, watching her carefully. When he spoke again, his words were softer, almost like a confession.
“Maybe… maybe you’re not meant to remember it all. Maybe some pieces of the past aren’t yours to hold onto anymore.”
Rue opened her eyes to find him standing so close that she could feel the heat of his presence, could feel the weight of centuries between them. The air was thick with the promise of something she couldn’t name, but she didn’t want to face it. She wanted to turn away, to escape. But she didn’t.
The moment stretched out, and Rue felt the world shift beneath her feet.
“I’m not asking you to carry their mistakes,” Pyro said, his tone gentle but resolute. “I’m asking you to remember who you are. Not who you were. Who you are. Right here. Right now.” His hand reached out, stopping just short of touching her cheek. It hovered there, the unspoken tension between them vibrating in the air.
Rue stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. She was torn between the need to reject the connection—this connection—and the overwhelming pull toward it.
“I’m scared, Pyro,” she whispered, her voice fragile. “I don’t know if I can be who you want me to be.”
Pyro’s eyes softened, and for the briefest of moments, Rue could see something like tenderness flicker behind his dark gaze. He stepped back, giving her space, though the bond between them seemed to only grow stronger, more suffocating.
“You don’t have to be anyone but yourself,” he said quietly.
Rue swallowed hard, her throat tight. She wanted to deny everything, to walk away and bury the feelings he was awakening in her. But deep down, she knew—no matter how hard she tried to run, she couldn’t escape her connection to him.
Not now. Not ever.
