Nicholas's hands would not stop shaking.
He stood at the edge of the path, staring at them as if they did not belong to him. Ash clung to his skin, smeared into the lines of his palms, dark against the raw red burns that pulsed with every heartbeat.
They trembled.
Uncontrollably.
"I tried…" he whispered.
His voice barely existed.
The fire behind him cracked loudly, reminding him that Otukpo was still burning.
Still ending.
Nicholas clenched his fists.
Pain surged instantly.
He gasped, opening them again.
Too late.
Too weak.
Too slow.
His breath broke.
"I tried…"
A voice answered him.
"You didn't do enough."
Nicholas froze.
The words were quiet.
Close.
He turned sharply.
"Who's there?"
Nothing.
Only smoke drifts through the air.
Only distant fire.
His chest tightened.
"I heard that," he said, louder now. "Show yourself!"
Silence.
Then...
"You let him die."
Nicholas's heart slammed violently against his ribs.
"No," he said immediately. "No, I didn't..."
"You stopped."
"I didn't!"
"You hesitated."
Nicholas staggered back, shaking his head. "That's not true…"
But the image forced itself into his mind.
The falling fire.
The moment he looked up.
The second he lost...
"No," he whispered again.
"You could have moved faster."
"I tried!"
"You could have been stronger."
"I'm not..."
He stopped.
The words caught.
Because they were true.
Nicholas looked down at his hands again.
They were still shaking.
Still useless.
"I couldn't lift it…" he said, his voice cracking. "It was too heavy…"
"And now he's dead."
Nicholas's knees buckled.
He dropped to the ground hard, the impact barely registering.
"No…"
The voice didn't rise.
Didn't accuse louder.
It stayed calm.
Certain.
"You watched it happen."
"I didn't want to!"
"But you did."
Nicholas covered his ears, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Stop…"
"You ran."
"I had to!"
"You left him."
"I didn't have a choice!"
The voice paused.
Then...
"You did."
Nicholas's breath hitched violently.
Silence pressed in again.
But this time, it wasn't empty.
It was full.
Full of everything he had seen.
Everything he hadn't done.
His hands curled into fists again.
"They're useless…" he whispered.
The words felt heavier than anything he had tried to lift.
"They couldn't save him."
The fire cracked louder in the distance, as if answering.
Nicholas lowered his hands slowly.
Stared at them again.
Burned.
Shaking.
Weak.
"What good are they?" he asked, not expecting an answer.
This time, none came.
The voice was gone.
But the damage remained.
Nicholas exhaled shakily, forcing himself to his feet. His body protested, but he stood anyway.
Because staying on the ground changed nothing.
Because nothing would change what had already happened.
He looked back.
Smoke filled the space where Otukpo had been.
Flames still rose, distant now, but unmistakable.
His chest tightened painfully.
"My mother…"
The thought hit like a blade.
He turned immediately.
Ran.
Back toward the fire.
Not thinking.
Not stopping.
"I have to go back," he said, his voice growing stronger with each step. "I have to find her."
His legs screamed in protest.
His lungs burned.
But he ran anyway.
Because this time, he would not hesitate.
The path narrowed as he pushed forward, the heat growing stronger again, the air heavier.
Nicholas slowed slightly.
Something felt wrong.
Different from before.
The fire ahead didn't move like the others.
It didn't spread.
It waited.
Nicholas's steps faltered.
"What…?"
The flames shifted.
Not outward.
Toward him.
His breath caught.
"They're..."
Watching.
Nicholas took a step back.
The fire responded.
Advancing.
Not fast.
Deliberate.
"No…" he whispered.
For the first time since running—
Nicholas felt it clearly.
This wasn't random.
This wasn't chaos.
This was...
Focused.
On him.
His heart pounded violently.
"Why…?" he asked, backing away slowly.
The fire moved again.
Closer.
Answering.
Nicholas's hands trembled once more as heat gathered unnaturally around him.
The same hands.
The ones that had failed.
Now...
They were all he had.
And as the flames closed the distance, tightening like a circle with no escape—
Nicholas realized something far worse than helplessness.
Nicholas stepped back, but the circle tightened, heat pressing against his skin. His breath came faster, sharper.
"I won't run again," he said, though his voice trembled.
The flames flickered, rising slightly, as if reacting.
His hands lifted instinctively, shaking, useless...
Or maybe not.
The heat surged toward them, biting, testing.
Nicholas clenched his teeth. "I couldn't save him… but I'm still here."
The fire pulsed.
Closer.
His hands burned.
He didn't pull them away.
"Then do something," he whispered.
For a moment, nothing changed.
Then, the flames hesitated.
Not retreating.
Not advancing.
Waiting.
Nicholas stared, heart pounding.
And slowly, painfully, he stepped forward instead.
The fire had chosen him again.