Chapter Three: The Quiet Between Storms

The cafeteria was nearly empty, just the hum of vending machines and the occasional crackle of thunder outside. Isla sat in the far corner; her fingers wrapped around a paper cup of lukewarm tea. She had not meant to invite Kael to follow. He had not asked. But she was not surprised when he appeared.

She watched him approach, his movements fluid but alert. Like he was listening to something she could not hear.

“You are following me now?” she asked, voice dry.

Kael did not smile. “You left the room.”

“She’s stable.”

“She’s changing.”

Isla gestured to the empty chair across from her. “Sit. Or go. But do not hover.”

He sat.

The silence between them was not awkward; it was charged. Isla studied him. The way his shoulders stayed tense, like he was ready to spring. The way his eyes flicked to the hallway every few seconds. His presence was heat and gravity—pulling her in, even as she tried to stay grounded.

She took a slow sip of tea. It tasted like cardboard and regret.

Her thoughts drifted to Ember. The heat. The shimmer. The way her pulse danced like flame. Isla had seen strange cases before, but this felt different. Like the rules did not apply.

And Kael—he unsettled her. Not just because of his cryptic warnings, but because something in him felt familiar. Like grief. Like fire.

She was aware of her body in a way she hadn’t been in months. Her skin felt too warm beneath her scrubs. Her pulse thudded in her throat. She hated how her breath caught when he looked at her—how her stomach tightened when his voice dropped low. It was ridiculous. She was at work. This was not the place to fall in lust with the family of a patient.

But Kael wasn’t just a brother to Ember. He was something else. Something ancient. Something dangerous.

“You’re not from here,” Isla said, breaking the silence.

Kael’s gaze flicked to her. “Neither are you.”

She nodded. “Dublin.”

He did not ask why she had left. Most people did. He liked that she did not explain.

“I’ve seen burns,” she said quietly. “Real ones. Chemical, thermal, electrical. But your sister… it is like the heat is inside her. Like it is trying to get out.”

Kael’s jaw tightened. “It is.”

Isla leaned forward. “What does that mean?”

He hesitated. His fingers tapped the table once, twice. Then he looked at her, really looked.

Her copper hair was pulled back, but he imagined it loose falling in waves down her back. Her green eyes held something sharp and soft at once. Her skin was pale, freckled, glowing faintly in the cafeteria’s dim light. She was beautiful. Sweet-looking. But not soft. There was steel in her spine, and Kael felt it every time she challenged him.

“You ever feel something you couldn’t explain?” he asked. “Like the world was bigger than it pretends to be?”

Isla thought of her brother. The fire. The way the flames had danced unnaturally, like they were alive. She swallowed. “Once.”

Kael nodded, as if that were enough.

Then he froze.

His head tilted slightly, like he was listening to something Isla could not hear. His shoulders tensed. The air around him shifted—warmer, sharper.

“What is it?” she asked.

Kael’s eyes darkened. “Nothing. Just… a change in the wind.”

Isla frowned. “We’re indoors.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

He stood abruptly, scanning the hallway beyond the glass. His posture was alert, protective. Like he was expecting something, or maybe someone.

Isla rose too. “Kael, what’s going on?”

He turned to her, voice low. “If anything happens, stay near Ember. She is the key.”

“The key to what?”

But he was already moving, his silhouette vanishing into the corridor like smoke.

Isla stood alone, heart pounding. She did not know what he meant. Not yet. But something told her she was already part of it, whatever that was.

He moved fast, but his thoughts lagged.

He remembered the dream again. Isla stood barefoot in the Ashen Territory, her hair loose and glowing in the firelight. She’d looked at him like she knew him. Like she’d seen every scar and didn’t flinch.

He’d kissed her in that dream. Slow. Desperate. Like he was trying to remember how it felt to be alive. He had spent the last two days and nights trying to shake the memories of that dream.

He hadn’t slept since.

Now, with her voice still in his ears and her scent lingering—tea and rain and something warm—Kael felt the heat rise again. Not Ember’s. His own.

He couldn’t afford this. Not now. Not ever.

But he wanted her. And that was dangerous.