POV - Elena
At first, there was nothing but the sound of water.
It echoed through the chamber, slow and rhythmic, like the sea. The air still shimmered faintly with silver, and I could feel the light that had filled me pulsing under my skin, steady as a second heartbeat.
But then the darkness behind my eyes began to shift — and I saw them.
A woman's laugh, warm and soft, carried through the sound of rain. A man's voice answering with gentle patience. Hands — their hands — lifting me when I was small.
My mother's eyes, bright as firelight, looking down at me with that same love I'd seen in James's gaze.
"Elena," she whispered in my memory, kneeling in a garden of pale flowers that seemed to glow. "Someday, you'll feel the world calling to you. Don't be afraid. The fire is yours. It was always yours."
Then my father's voice — deep, steady. "The world will try to hide what you are. Promise me, little one, you'll remember that light isn't meant to be contained."
They both looked at me then, and even though the vision flickered, I could feel it — the love, the pride, the quiet, knowing sadness.
The memory wasn't painful. It was home.
When I opened my eyes again, the glow had faded from the air, and James was still holding me, his expression soft, uncertain.
"James," I whispered, breath trembling, "I saw them."
He froze. "Your parents?"
I nodded slowly, a tear slipping down my cheek before I could stop it. "They were talking to me. Like they knew this would happen. Like they'd been waiting for it."
He brushed the tear away with his thumb. "They must have known you'd find your way back."
I swallowed, the weight of the moment sinking in. "I remember things now. Pieces. My mother's voice, my father's hands… and something else."
"What?"
"They said the fire is mine," I murmured, looking down at the pendant glowing faintly against my skin. "That it was always mine."
He smiled faintly, that quiet, reverent look he only ever gave me. "They were right."
I took a deep breath. My body felt warm, too warm, the air thick with leftover magic. "I… I feel different."
"You are," he said gently. "But you're still you."
I met his gaze — those silver eyes steady and endless — and all at once, the tension broke. He kissed my forehead, his lips lingering there like a promise.
"Come," he whispered. "You need to rest."
He led me to the adjoining room — the bathing chamber. Steam rose from the wide stone bath, scented with herbs and faint traces of the salt still in the air.
I hesitated at first, self-conscious, but he took my hand, his touch steady, grounding. "It's just us," he said softly.
The moment we stepped into the water, it felt like the world itself exhaled.
The warmth surrounded me, washing away the last tremors of fear, the last remnants of uncertainty.
James didn't speak; he didn't need to. He simply held me, one arm wrapped around me, his thumb tracing slow circles on my shoulder. Every breath, every ripple of water felt like a heartbeat — steady, healing, real.
When I finally leaned against him, closing my eyes, I felt whole.
Not broken, not lost — whole.
Afterward, he helped me dry off, his touch careful, reverent. We didn't talk much as we walked to his room, the world still humming softly around us.
He pulled back the covers and I slipped into bed, exhaustion pulling at me like a tide. The pendant still glowed faintly against my chest — a quiet reminder that I was no longer the woman I'd been that morning.
James lay beside me, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "How do you feel?"
I smiled, half-asleep. "Like I've finally stopped running."
He kissed my temple, his voice low against my skin. "Sleep, my fireheart. You're safe."
The room dimmed, the sound of rain whispering against the windows.
And as sleep claimed me, the last thing I felt was his arm around me — warm, certain, unshakable.
For the first time in my life, I knew who I was.
And for the first time, I wasn't afraid of it.
…
The night felt endless.
Somewhere beyond the rhythm of rain against the windows, I drifted — not asleep, not awake, suspended in a quiet too deep for words.
Then I heard it.
A voice. Soft. Familiar.
"Elena…"
My name, spoken with the kind of tenderness that only lives in memory.
The world around me shifted — light unfurling like mist at dawn. I stood barefoot on grass that glowed faintly silver, beneath a sky woven from moonlight and fire. The air was warm and scented with pine and rain.
And then I saw them.
A man and a woman standing a few steps away, hand in hand. My mother's hair fell in dark waves down her back, her eyes glowing with the same light that now shimmered in my own. My father's shoulders were broad, his expression calm, proud, gentle.
"Mom?" I whispered, my voice breaking on the word. "Dad?"
They smiled — that same, knowing smile from my earliest, vaguest memories.
"Hello, my little flame," my mother said softly. Her voice was music, the kind that wrapped around the heart. "You've grown so strong."
Tears blurred my vision. "I don't understand. Is this real?"
"It's real enough," my father said, his voice deep and even. "We're with you, Elena. Always have been."
I took a hesitant step toward them, my breath shaking. "Why now? Why after all this time?"
"Because you've awakened," my mother said gently. "The veil has thinned for you. It lets the truth find its way back."
"The veil…" I echoed, remembering the way James had said the word in passing, with that quiet weight that hinted at danger.
She nodded. "It separates what lives from what lingers. It keeps the world from tearing itself apart. But blood like ours can walk between the edges of it."
I swallowed, tears spilling freely now. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you stay?"
My father stepped forward, reaching out to touch my face. His hand felt warm — impossibly warm, as if life itself flowed through it. "We wanted to. But fate had its own course. You were safer hidden, even from yourself."
Hidden. Forgotten.
For a moment, anger and sadness tangled inside me, a storm of things I couldn't name. "You died because of what we are," I said quietly. "Because of what I am."
My mother's eyes shone with compassion. "No, sweet one. We died protecting it. Protecting you."
She took my hands in hers, and the touch sent a pulse of light through me — warmth spreading through every vein, every breath.
"Listen to me," she whispered. "You are not cursed, Elena. You are chosen. You carry the balance — the bridge between light and shadow. That's why they'll fear you. That's why they'll seek you. But you must never run from what you are."
Her fingers tightened around mine. "And you must trust him."
"James?"
She smiled, faint and knowing. "Yes. His soul recognizes yours. He's bound to you, as we were once bound — flame to flame. But love, my heart, even the strongest bond must be met halfway."
I shook my head, the ache in my chest unbearable. "How do I do this without you?"
My father's voice came from behind her, calm and certain. "You don't need to do it without us. Every heartbeat you have is ours too. You carry us with you."
I closed my eyes, the tears coming faster now. "I miss you."
My mother leaned forward and pressed her forehead to mine — her touch as light as breath. "We miss you too, meu amor," she murmured. "But this is your world now. Wake up. Live. And when the time comes… remember what burns in your blood."
The silver light began to fade, the field around us dissolving into mist. Their hands slipped from mine, but the warmth stayed.
"Wait!" I cried, reaching out. "Don't go!"
My father's voice came one last time, soft as wind through leaves. "We never left."
The light shattered into a thousand glimmering sparks — and I gasped awake.
The room was dim, the rain still whispering beyond the windows. My skin glowed faintly beneath the sheets, the pendant warm against my chest. James was beside me, still half asleep, one arm draped protectively over my waist.
For a long time, I just lay there, staring into the dark, the echoes of my parents' voices still ringing in my mind.
The fire is yours.
The balance is yours.
Trust him.
I turned to look at James — at the man who somehow felt like destiny wrapped in human form — and touched the pendant lightly. It pulsed once, as if in answer.
A tear slipped down my cheek, but I was smiling.
Because for the first time, I understood.
My past hadn't been stolen.
It had been waiting.
And now, the future — our future — had begun.