The Metzlian Remnant

Tsukia’s POV

The campfire hissed and spat, sending long flickering silhouettes crawling up the trunks around us. For the first time in years, the mountain’s usual cold didn’t seem to reach me.

It stopped at my skin instead of burrowing into my bones.

I perched on a split log, a stick balanced in my hand, a white sugar cube or what they called a “marshmallow” speared at the end.

Watching it blister and turn golden in the heat held me in a quiet trance.

“Don’t let it catch, Kia! Rotate it,” Jasmia teased, her laughter bright and curious.

The nickname felt strange in my mouth. Kia.

I nudged the marshmallow into my mouth. It was overwhelmingly sweet and cloying enough to make my teeth ache but somehow, it tasted like calm.

Maybe Lori had been right. Maybe not every human deserved the monsters I had imagined in my dreams.

“So…” Jasmia leaned forward, chin resting on her hand.

“Lori says you’re gifted, but your magic seems… different. What is it? Some kind of alien thing?”

My throat tightened. The sweetness in my mouth curdled into something heavier. I stared at my hands tucked inside my sleeves, as if I could hide them.

“I… I don’t really know,” I admitted.

“She’s right to be careful,” Lori said, his voice steady and low.

He prodded the embers with a stick. “I’ve felt it, Jasmia. It isn’t like our kind of potential. Ours feels like stepping into a river you can ride. Hers… it’s like staring into an abyss. Even the smallest move seems to bruise her body under the strain.”

Jasmia’s grin faltered. “Is it that dangerous?”

“I’m an abominable bad-luck charm,” I whispered before I could stop myself, the cruel words from my old village slipping out.

“When I use it… my surroundings get hurt. Or I do.”

The wood popped. For a moment, that sound was the only thing between us and a silence that could have swallowed the night.

Lori stood, breaking the tension.

“Enough gloom. Watch this.”

He stepped into the firelight with his palms open.

The flames didn’t simply die down—they bent and slithered like water responding to a hand.

The fire drew itself into thin red ribbons, arcing toward him and curling across his skin as if it belonged there. His eyes flared, twin rubies igniting in the dark.

“He can eat it, breathe it, wear it,” Jasmia murmured, pride in her voice as she briefly rested a hand on my shoulder. “He’s a real fire-type. Pure control.”

A hot twist of envy knifed through me.

Lori moved with his power like a practiced dancer. I moved with mine like I was chained to something starving and clawing from the inside.

“Let’s go inside,” Lori said, the glow in his eyes fading back into ordinary brown.

He led the way, pushing open a door that revealed a house mostly sunk into the earth—more like a hidden dugout than a home.

“Welcome to your new home, Tsukia!” he announced as we stepped inside.

“Home?”

The word landed softly, like something I hadn’t realized I was missing. My chest tightened, and my eyes burned unexpectedly.

The place was larger than I expected—spacious but warm, the kind of shelter carved carefully beneath the hillside.

A small part of me—old, paranoid, trained to distrust safety—whispered trap.

But when I sank into the softness of real blankets, that voice quieted.

I must have been more exhausted than I realized. I closed my eyes and drifted off before I even finished thinking about it.

Morning arrived in a single disorienting blink.

I jolted awake, disoriented. For a second, I couldn’t place where I was—the dream of a man named Lori and a girl named Jasmia still clinging to the edges of my mind.

Then my fingers brushed unfamiliar sheets.

The realization hit me: I wasn’t on the mountain.

My stomach flipped.

“A new day, I guess…” I muttered, as the certainty settled in that this wasn’t a dream. I… trusted humans. For the first time.

Sunlight spilled through the window like a spotlight.

I stood awkwardly, hair tangled into a mess as I shuffled to the mirror.

Puffy eyes. A deep scowl. Skin even paler than I felt inside.

“Ugly…” I grumbled, splashing cold water over my face to shake off the heaviness.

Downstairs, the kitchen smelled like coffee. Jasmia was already there, cradling a steaming mug.

“Morning, sunshine! Want some coffee, Kia?” she asked.

“Sure.”

The nickname made heat rise to my cheeks.

She handed me a cup. For a moment, we just sat in quiet morning stillness, letting the silence settle gently between us.

Lori burst in next, holding an iced coffee and that usual breathless energy that always felt like the start of chaos.

“What’s up, girls! We’re going to the supermarket later. We need supplies—and Tsukia definitely needs clothes that don’t scream ‘girl from a mountain,’” he said with a grin.

“Do we even have money?” Jasmia asked, skeptical.

Lori gave a sideways smile. “I borrowed it from people who didn’t deserve it.”

“YOU STOLE IT AGAIN!” Jasmia snapped, equal parts exasperated sister and mock outrage.

I watched them like someone looking into a sunlit room through frosted glass.

Lori only laughed, then winked at me.

“Don’t mind her. She’s cranky because I friend-zoned her for ten years.”

“LORI, SHUT UP!” she shouted, her face turning the same shade as his flames as she stormed out in mock anger.

Lori chuckled. “Be ready by 1:00 pm, Tsukia. We’re hitting the market.”

I nodded and retreated to my room.

The hours passed in an uncomfortable stillness. The kindness from the morning lingered—and it made me feel exposed.

Vulnerability was dangerous.

I needed to get stronger.

I sat on the floor, breathing slowly, focusing on the scarred skin of my right wrist.

Just one hand. Keep the leak under control.

My breathing slowed until it was almost nonexistent.

Dark veins crept across my skin like ink bleeding through paper. A black haze gathered at my fingertips. The pressure inside me felt heavier than lead.

My ears rang. A thin line of blood slipped from my earlobe. I ignored it.

A small ceramic vase sat on the nightstand, bright flowers still inside.

Lift.

A low scrape echoed in the quiet room as the vase shifted. Then, the atmosphere thickened, turning dense and cold around the ceramic. It didn't just lift—it hung there, defying gravity by a mere three inches.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, a small, smile breaking across my face.

It worked.

Then everything tilted.

Pressure spiked inside my chest—hot, sharp, unbearable. I tried to release it, but the force didn’t stop.

It fed.

The petals dulled. Color drained from the flowers in seconds, turning gray and brittle before collapsing into dust. The vase cracked—fine, spidering fractures spreading across its surface.

Then the world broke, a white flash exploded through my vision.

For a moment, I wasn’t in my room.

I saw a woman—impossibly tall, radiant, with obsidian wings stretching across the sky like thunder given form. She felt like a goddess… or a memory I had lost.

“Find the source…”

The voice wasn’t heard—it was felt. Pressed into my bones.

Pain tore through my skull as I screamed in agony.

My hands flew to my head as the vase shattered into a thousand pieces across the floor.

I collapsed, gasping, the room spinning in jagged fragments of light and shadow.

Silence returned like a curtain dropping.

Only my ragged breathing remained… and the faint tink of porcelain settling on wood.

“What… was that?” I whispered into the empty room.