Chapter 50

I tossed and turned, unable to fall into deep slumber. The house felt too quiet, even with Luca moving around somewhere downstairs; the silence pressed against my skull until my temples throbbed.

I pulled the blankets tighter, head heavy from exhaustion, eyes stinging with heat. I told myself I only needed rest, just a few hours to clear my thoughts.

But when my eyes finally shut, sleep didn’t bring peace. At first, the dream felt harmless. I stood barefoot in a meadow, the grass soft beneath my toes, sunlight pouring over me in warm ribbons. A breeze teased through my hair, carrying the scent of wildflowers. I almost tried to relax, thinking this is where my mind took me to relax.

Then I heard something, I listened, and it sounded like a small cry. A baby's cry, small and fragile, the kind of cry that clenches your heart as a mother.

I spun around, searching for the sound. “Hello? Where are you?” My voice cracked. “Don’t cry, I’m here! I’m right here!” The meadow darkened. The sky bled from gold to bruised black, the sun swallowed whole. The sweet wind turned sharp, filling my lungs with ash. My hands trembled.

The cry came again, louder this time. Why is my heart breaking every time I hear that cry? Is that my baby? I was even confused at the questions I was asking myself. I didn't know what to think.

I ran. My legs pumped, but the grass grew taller, wrapping around my ankles, slowing me down. No matter how hard I pushed forward, I wasn’t moving. Flames burst from the earth, racing across the meadow faster than I could breathe. Heat slammed against me, the air thick with smoke.

“Dan!” I screamed, my throat raw. “Dan, help me!” This is a nightmare, not a dream.

The crying grew deafening, surrounding me, breaking me. Then, there. Just ahead, lying on scorched grass, a small bundle wrapped in white.

“Please, no…” My knees buckled as I forced myself toward it, the fire blistering my skin. The heat clawed at me, but I pushed forward anyway, teeth clenched, tears spilling down my face.

I fell to the ground, hands reaching, sobbing in relief when I touched the bundle. But the cloth unraveled in my hands, and inside was nothing but smoke.

“No!” I screamed, my chest tearing open. I clawed at the air, trying to hold it together, trying to stop it from disappearing, but it dissolved into nothing. The fire roared higher, swallowing the meadow whole.

Through the smoke, I saw him. Dan. A figure at the edge of the flames.

“Dan!” My voice broke as I tried to stand, but my legs were pinned, heavy, useless. “Don’t leave me!” He didn’t come closer. He just stood there in the smoke until the fire devoured his shadow too.

The meadow crumbled. The ground split beneath me, and I plunged into blackness. The baby’s cry shrilled again, so loud I thought my eardrums would burst.

I jolted awake, gasping, drenched in sweat. My chest heaved as I gripped the sheets. Then the smell hit me, sharp, bitter, real. My stomach dropped, and I looked down at the bed because it smelled like smoke.

The sheets glowed faintly orange, tiny flames licking along the cotton. The fire was real. “No, no, no!” I slapped at it with my bare hands, sparks biting my skin. The flames hissed out, leaving holes scorched black. The stench of charred fabric filled the room. My hands shook as I stared at them, my palms pink but not burned through. I had somehow managed to bring the fire from the nightmare back with me.

I collapsed forward, pressing my face into the pillow as sobs ripped through me. My whole body trembled, broken. The baby’s cry still echoed in my ears, and Dan’s shadow burned into my mind.

My hands clutched my stomach, desperate. The baby kicked, hard, sharp, real. The movement jolted me, made me gasp through my tears. Relief tore through me, but so did guilt, so heavy it felt like drowning.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”The door creaked open.

“Emerald?”

Luca’s voice. I turned, my vision blurry with tears. He stood in the doorway, frozen, his eyes flicking from the burned sheets to me, shaking in the mess of it all.

“Did you—” He stopped himself. His expression softened.

I couldn’t speak or explain to him that I feel like I am losing my mind, and it feels like every day gets worse. I couldn't tell him that my baby turned into smoke the minute I held him in that nightmare.

Clutching my stomach tighter, I whispered, “I can’t lose him. I can’t lose either of them.” Luca stepped closer, crouching by the bed. For a moment, he didn’t touch me, like he was afraid I’d shatter if he did.

Then, quietly, he said, “Then don’t stop fighting, do it for your little family.”

I met his gaze, my chest still shaking, tears streaming. Fear and exhaustion filled me, but beneath it all, something small flickered—like the tiniest ember refusing to die.

I stared at Luca, barely able to breathe past the sobs stuck in my throat. His words rang in my ears, but the shame of what I’d just done, the fire, the nightmare, the fact that I couldn’t even control myself.

“I can’t,” I whispered. “I’m falling apart, Luca. Dan’s gone, and I don’t even know if he’s alive. I’m losing control, and if I can’t stop myself…” My eyes flicked to the charred sheets, the smoke still lingering in the air. “…I’ll destroy everything.” Luca shook his head slowly, firm but gentle.

“No. You had a nightmare. That’s all this is. You’re exhausted, your mind is spinning, and your body is carrying more than one life. Anyone would break under that kind of pressure. You’re not weak, Emerald. You’re human.”I wanted to believe him, but my chest felt like it was caving in. My hands kept shaking as I clutched at my bump, needing reassurance that the baby was still with me. The small kick I felt made me cry harder.

Without another word, Luca stood and disappeared into the bathroom. A moment later, he returned with a damp towel. He carefully took my hands, turning them over, inspecting my palms like he expected to find burns. When he didn’t, he exhaled softly and pressed the cool towel against them.

The contrast made me flinch. My hands trembled against his steady ones, but the chill grounded me, pulling me away from the edge of panic.

“Breathe,” he said quietly. “In. Out.” I followed, hiccuping through shaky breaths, letting him guide me until the storm inside me began to settle, just a little.

When he pulled back, he glanced at the bed, at the scorched holes in the blanket. “We’ll deal with that,” he murmured. “But for now, you need rest. Real rest.”

“I can’t,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “If I close my eyes, I’ll see it again. I will see Dan walking away from me, and that part really hurt me, so I don't want to find myself stuck on repeating the most painful memory in my life.” Something flickered in his eyes, sympathy, maybe even anger on my behalf. But he didn’t argue.

Instead, he carefully pulled the blanket down, stripped the worst of the burned sheets, and tossed them into a pile on the floor. Then he guided me back against the pillows, tugging a clean throw from the chair to cover me.

“Just lie down,” he said. “Don’t think about tomorrow. Don’t think about Dan. Don’t think about anything but falling asleep.” I stared at him, exhausted beyond words.

My chest still ached, but my body was too heavy to fight anymore. I let my head sink into the pillow. Luca hesitated at the door. Then, almost awkwardly, he came back, pulling the throw higher over me like he was tucking in a child. His voice softened, almost a whisper.

“I’ll be downstairs or in the room next to yours because I am feeling a bit tired myself. If you need anything, anything at all—you call for me. I’ll come.” My throat tightened. The gesture, simple as it was, nearly broke me. “Luca?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” He gave me a small nod, his expression unreadable in the dim light, and slipped out of the room.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, the faint smell of smoke still clinging to the air. My body trembled, my eyes heavy, my heart aching at the thought of Dan going missing forever because of me. He's gone, and the worst part is that he has always been supportive and helpful of my powers, but now that he's not, I'm losing control.