CHAPTER 5
My head throbbed with every heartbeat. I barely remembered falling asleep, just the scent of smoke clinging to my clothes, the flicker of fire still dancing in my eyes, and Tyson's hand in mine as we sat on the curb waiting for… anything. I still couldn't fathom what happened yesterday; nothing makes sense at this point.
Now, sunlight streamed through unfamiliar curtains. Tyson’s couch was firm beneath me, and someone had tossed a blanket over me during the night. For a moment, I let myself breathe, thinking maybe just maybe, I’d imagined it all.
Until I looked at my hands.
They weren’t glowing anymore, but something about them felt… different. Like I’d touched something ancient, and it had touched me back. I have so many questions about myself, what did I turn to last night, how, and why? I have never been confused about my identity until today, I'm even doubting that I am a human being.
A knock thundered against the door. Three times. Hard. Familiar. Tyson, emerging from the kitchen with a steaming mug, froze. “That’s Dan.” The pit in my stomach dropped to my toes. I sat up quickly, nearly knocking the blanket off. “How does he know I’m here?”
“He knows everything that happens to anyone related to him. You should get used to it,” Tyson said flatly, setting down the mug. “Stay here. I’ll deal with him.”
But I was already on my feet. “No. I’ll go.” When Tyson opened the door, Dan stormed in, face flushed with fury, coat unbuttoned, eyes locked on me like I’d spat in his morning coffee.
“You think you can just disappear for a night?” he snapped, his voice low and dangerous. “What the hell, Emerald? You live with me. Or did you forget that little detail?”
“I needed space,” I said carefully. “After what I saw, ”
“You don’t just vanish!” he growled, cutting me off. “I’ve been trying to find you all night. I called hospitals. Police. And where were you? Shacking up with my brother?”
Tyson stepped between us. “Watch your mouth, Dan.” Dan’s glare shifted to him, a cold, calculating look I’d seen before. But then he seemed to catch himself. He straightened his coat, smoothing his anger with a practiced hand. “You should be careful who you trust, Emerald,” he said quietly, eyes narrowing on me. “Things are changing. Fast.”
“What does that mean?” I asked. He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to Tyson. “Can we talk? Alone.” Tyson crossed his arms. “We’ve got nothing to talk about.” I looked at Dan, still confused by his choice of words. Does he know something that I don't know about?
Dan’s smile was icy. “You sure about that? Because what happened last night wasn’t normal. And you know it.” He left after that. No threats. No yelling. Just those last words, like a thread tied to a ticking bomb.
I stood there, hands trembling again, not from fear but from that rising heat. Like something inside me was slowly waking up, is this going to be an everyday thing now?
The moment I stepped back into the mansion, Dan’s mansion, I’d told myself I was just going to take a shower, maybe have a drink, and figure out my next move. But the weight of the day had other plans. Between catching Dan with Stephany, the car crash, and the terrifying burst of… whatever that was, I barely remembered dragging myself to the guest room.
I didn’t want to sleep in our bedroom. His bedroom.
I barely recognized myself anymore.
I curled up on the guest bed, fully clothed, the faint scent of lavender detergent on the pillow somehow making me feel more alone. The silence wrapped around me like a tight blanket, no city noise, no Tyson, no confrontation. Just a strange, haunting quiet.
My head throbbed, not from the crash but from something… inside. A buzzing. A pressure. It felt like the heat that had surged through me earlier was still there, humming beneath my skin, waiting.
I closed my eyes, it didn't feel like dreaming, no. I was somewhere else.
The air was warm. Almost too warm. The sky above me burned orange and red like a sunset, but there was no sun. The trees around me were dry, their branches twisted like claws. Ash floated through the air like snow. It should not have been very comforting, but it wasn’t.
It felt familiar.
In front of me stood a house. Run-down, its white paint long since peeled away. Vines crawled up one side as if trying to reclaim it. The porch sagged in the middle, and the front door hung crooked on its hinges. I’d never seen this place before.
Except, I had a flash of a memory. My father holding my hand, the smell of smoke in the air, and that same crooked porch.
The house from when I was a child. The one we’d never returned to. I took a hesitant step forward. The air shifted, crackled, like static. I could hear something, no, someone whispering. A voice I hadn’t heard in months.
“You’ll find the truth where it began, Emerald, where fire met flesh. Where I tried to hide it all.”
I froze.
“Dad?” I whispered.
No answer.
The front door creaked open on its own, compelled by something deep in my chest, I stepped inside.
Dust hung in thick layers, curling through the golden beams of light that streamed from cracked windows. A fireplace sat cold at the far end, above it an empty mantle coated in cobwebs. The living room was small and old-fashioned. The furniture was covered with white sheets, and the walls bore the faint outlines of photos that had long been removed.
And then I saw it, an old wooden chest, half-hidden beneath the stairs.
I crouched, brushing away dust and brittle leaves. It was locked, but a symbol was carved into the wood: a phoenix, wings outstretched in flame. The same shape that had appeared in my palm during the crash.
My heartbeat thundered.
“Your answers are here.”
The voice was clearer now. I didn’t know if it was my father or something else, but it reverberated through my bones. I reached out and touched the chest. The phoenix symbol glowed softly under my fingers, and the lock clicked open. Inside were papers, photos, and a weathered leather-bound diary. I reached for it, but as my hand closed around the cover, fire flared up the sides of the chest. Not burning, but illuminating. Like the flames were reading me, recognizing me.
The diary opened on its own, pages fluttering wildly until they stopped at one written in heavy, slanted handwriting. My father’s.
“If you’re reading this, Emerald, then the flames have awakened in you, too. I tried to hide it, to protect you. But I should have known it would find you.”
I swallowed hard.
“You are not entirely human. Neither was I.”
The page shifted, words changing before my eyes. “Seek the ember where blood was spilled and truth was buried. The rest lies in the fire’s memory.”
Then the flames surged, and the world burned away.
I bolted upright in the bed, gasping for breath, my clothes damp with sweat. My heart raced like I’d run a marathon. The room was spinning, and my hands burned with heat that wasn’t entirely natural.
“Dad…” I whispered, blinking as tears welled in my eyes. “What the hell did you leave me with?”
The image of the abandoned house seared into my brain like a brand. I had no idea where it was or how to get there, but now, I had to find it. I had to know what my father was hiding. What I was.
But as I sat up fully, I heard footsteps stomping down the hallway. Dan burst in without even knocking, I sighed feeling tired and already annoyed with him.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he barked. His shirt was half-buttoned, his eyes bloodshot. “You disappear for an entire night and show up acting like you live here? After everything?” I stared at him, dazed. He didn’t matter right now. Not compared to what I’d just seen, what I had just felt. This means I am destined for greater things, and knowing that makes me feel amazing.
“I’m not doing this with you,” I said quietly, brushing past him and heading for the stairs. “Emerald, don’t you dare walk away from me!” he growled, grabbing my wrist.
I didn’t mean to react. But the second he touched me, heat surged up my arm, and Dan groaned in pain, jerking his hand back like I’d burned him. I blinked in disbelief at what I just did. He stared at his palm, then at me.
“What did you—” he began to speak but I quickly walked away, yearning for a moment alone to think more about my father's voice in my vision.