The fire did not appear all at once.
It began with heat.
Zubair noticed it before anything else changed because the feeling of the heat was familiar. It was the same low warmth he'd felt his entire life when he stood too close to a stove, a campfire, a furnace vent in winter.
A steady presence that offered him comfort instead of fear.
The room adjusted around the heat without understanding that it had done so.
Even as the air grew drier, his breathing became easier, then heavier. The faint chill he hadn't realized was there receded, leaving his skin tight… alert… ready for anything. The stone beneath his boots no longer felt cold through the soles.
Someone shifted behind one of the desks.
Another cleared their throat.
But Zubair didn't move.
