Julia.
I can feel it again—that heat, simmering just beneath my skin like a second heartbeat. It coils there, whispering in a language older than I understand. Sometimes it speaks in memories that aren't mine. Sometimes it just burns.
It started as a flicker. A warmth that danced across my fingertips in childhood when I cried too long or screamed too loud. But now it's a blaze. And it's never quiet.
They called me a mistake. A thing born of betrayal. Not quite wolf. Not quite fox. Fireborn. Wrong.
But I am not wrong. I am the first sign of the world remembering what it once was. What it will become again.
The flames told me so.
