Nhel didn't scream.
That was the first thing Anisha noticed, even through the blur of her tears. Anyone else would have. Anyone else would have been writhing, clawing at their own skin, begging for relief. But Nhel he stood there, trembling, his breath coming in sharp, uneven pulls, as though something inside him was trying to break free.
His hands were clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone pale.
"I'm fine," he said.
It was a lie so obvious it hurt to hear.
Anisha shook her head, her vision swimming. "No, you're not. Nhel look at you!"
She stepped closer, hesitantly at first, like approaching something dangerous. Not him. Never him. But whatever this was… it felt wrong. The air around him shimmered faintly, like heat rising from scorched ground under a merciless sun.
And yet, nothing burned.
The grass beneath his feet remained green. His clothes were untouched. Even the loose strands of his dark hair didn't curl or crisp.
But he was burning.
