Chapter 129: Special - 2 - Maelin’s Life

As Maelin bounded along the blackened stone paths, pouch swinging at her side, the heat from the fissures below rose in waves, shimmering in the air. The little green plant nestled safely in her hands, she hummed a cheerful tune, completely absorbed in her morning adventures.

"Maelin, wait!" a sharp yet kindly voice called.

She turned to see old Mrs. Thoren, one of the village elders, leaning on her cane, eyes narrowed in concern. Her skin was weathered like the volcanic rock around them, and her hair, though gray now, once surely mirrored the fiery reds so common in the village.

"I’ve seen you wandering toward the fissures again," the woman said, her voice cautious but not unkind. "Do you not feel the heat? The stones can burn even the strongest feet. One misstep and—"

Maelin stopped, giving her a radiant smile. "Oh, don’t worry, Mrs. Thoren. I feel it, a little tingle under my feet, but I never get burns easily. I’m careful, promise!" She bounced lightly on her toes, full of energy, eyes sparkling with mischievous pride.

The old woman sighed, shaking her head. "You were born here, I suppose," she said, a trace of awe in her voice. "Perhaps that makes you more... resistant than those who came later."

Maelin’s smile softened, respectful but still brimming with her usual optimism. "Maybe that’s true. Our generation is really different, but we respect you elders so much, Mrs. Thoren, for building this village and giving us a place like this to grow."

The old woman’s lips twitched in the faintest of smiles. "You always were a bright one, Maelin."

"Thank you!" Maelin chirped, giving a little energetic bow. "I’ll be careful, I promise! Goodbye, Mrs. Thoren!" With a wave and a spring in her step, she continued down the path, the heat rising like an invisible tide around her, her laughter echoing through the village.

Even as she bounded away, the old woman watched her go, shaking her head with a mixture of exasperation and fondness. There was something about this girl, something uncontainable, that seemed to belong to the fire itself.

By the time Maelin reached home, her siblings were gathered outside, trying to out-shout one another about who should fetch water next and who had lazed too long in the morning sun. Their laughter rang loud, though sometimes edged with squabbling. Maelin darted into the fray like a spark into dry grass, teasing and nudging until they all chased her instead of arguing.

She spun around them, hair blazing in the sunlight, until one of her younger sisters tripped and nearly fell into a basket of their mother’s goods. Maelin caught her with a laugh and pulled her upright, dusting her off. "See? No harm done! Only adventure!"

But the moment of joy broke when a gruff voice cut through the air.

"Keep your brats out of my way!" Their neighbor, a sour-faced man with arms like tree trunks, stomped over, glaring at the children. He had complained before, about noise, about games near his fence, about anything that gave life to the stony lanes.

"They’re not hurting anyone," Maelin said, still smiling though her chin lifted with defiance.

The man sneered. "Always running, always yelling. One day you’ll set something on fire with that energy of yours."

Her younger brother clung nervously to her sleeve. Something inside Maelin flared hot at the sight—protective, fierce. She stepped forward, placing herself between the man and her siblings. "Leave them alone," she said, her voice still bright but edged with steel.

The man snorted, reaching as though to shove past her. In that instant, something broke loose inside her. Heat surged through her chest, down her arm, and before she even understood what she was doing, a small burst of fire leapt from her palm.

It wasn’t large—no bigger than an apple—but it blazed brightly, arcing forward and landing with a hiss at the man’s feet. He stumbled back, eyes wide with shock.

Maelin froze, staring at her own hands as though they no longer belonged to her. Her siblings gasped. Villagers nearby stopped in their tracks, murmuring, pointing. The air grew heavy, silence spreading like a ripple through the crowd.

"I... I didn’t—" Maelin stammered, her eyes wide, heart racing.

"Fire!" the man shouted, though he wasn’t hurt. "She threw fire at me!"

Before panic could spread further, a calm but firm voice rose above the noise. "Enough."

It was Mrs. Thoren, the village elder, moving slowly toward them with her cane tapping against the stone. Though age bent her back, her presence silenced the crowd. She looked at Maelin, her weathered face unreadable, then turned to the villagers.

"Some children are born with the elements," she said evenly. "It is not a curse, nor an accident. It is a gift. And it must be guided." She placed a hand gently on Maelin’s shoulder. "This girl has shown her flame. I will send word to the Academy of Elements at once."

The murmurs quieted, suspicion giving way to awe. The fireball had been small, harmless, yet undeniable. The villagers nodded slowly, reassured by the elder’s steady tone.

"You should be proud, Maelin," the old woman said, her gaze softening. "The flame is a strength, and with the right guidance, it will not harm but protect. Your path is opening now."

Maelin swallowed hard, still staring at her tingling hands. Her voice trembled as she asked, "Is this why... I never feel the heat like the others do? Why the stones only make me tingle?"

The elder gave a slow nod. "Most likely, yes. But the academy will teach you what we cannot. They will show you how to master what has already awakened within you."

Her siblings pressed close, wide-eyed but proud, and even the gruff neighbor had fallen silent, stepping back with more wariness than anger. Around her, the villagers seemed to accept the elder’s words, their fear soothed, their gazes shifting from suspicion to something almost like reverence.

Maelin, however, was still in shock, her energy coiled tightly inside her, no longer knowing whether to laugh or to cry. She looked down at her hands again, then back at the elder. The weight of the moment pressed down on her, but somewhere under the fear, a spark of excitement flickered. The beginning of something much bigger had just arrived.

When Maelin finally reached the house, she felt as if her steps were too heavy for her own legs. The sun had begun to dip, casting a golden haze over the rocky ground, but she didn’t notice it. Her heart still raced from what had happened in the village square.

The door creaked open before she even touched it. Her younger brother, Rinan, peeked out with wide eyes. "Maelin! Everyone is talking about you! Did you really throw fire from your hands?"

She froze, half-embarrassed, half-ashamed. "I... I don’t know if I threw it. It just happened."

Inside, the whole family had gathered around the table. The mother had abandoned her weaving, strands of thread tangled in her lap. The father, usually exhausted after his day’s work in the fields near the fissures, was sitting upright, serious. The older siblings, tired from helping at the quarry and fetching water, were buzzing with excitement instead of fatigue.

Her mother was the first to speak. "Child... is it true?" Her voice trembled. Not from fear, but from disbelief.

Maelin’s face flushed. She wrung her hands together. "The neighbor—he was yelling at Aven again. I just wanted him to stop. I didn’t mean to! I just felt something burst inside me, and then—" She opened her palm as if she expected the fire to reappear. "—and then flames. Right out of here."

A hush fell over the table.

Her father finally let out a slow breath. "So it’s true. The elder was right." His tone was not angry, only heavy, as if he was rearranging his thoughts while speaking. "Some of us... we always wondered why the land would let children be born here, near the volcano, while others who moved here struggled. Perhaps you carry the mountain’s fire in you."

Rinan jumped onto the bench, eyes shining. "That’s amazing! My sister can make fire! Can you do it again? Show me!"

Maelin quickly shook her head, almost panicking. "No! I don’t even know how I did it once. What if I burn you? I don’t want to hurt anyone."

Her oldest sister, Lira, leaned closer. She had always been the sensible one. "But you didn’t burn yourself, did you? You said you felt nothing, not even the heat."

Maelin shrugged, staring at her tingling hands. "No... it just felt like my skin was buzzing. Like I was alive in every corner of me."

Her mother reached across the table, taking Maelin’s restless hands in hers. "My dear, listen. The elder told you the truth. You should be proud. This is not a curse—it is a gift. A gift that will take you away from us for a time, maybe, but will bring honor too. The Academy of Elements... they can teach you how to control this."

The youngest sibling, barely old enough to speak properly, piped up with a lisp. "Mae-maylin hot fire girl!" The table erupted into laughter for a moment, breaking the tension.

Maelin laughed too, though her eyes were wet. "I don’t feel like a hero. I feel like... like something broke inside me, and I don’t know if I can put it back together."

Her father leaned forward then, his stern face softening. "Maelin. In this family, we survive by each one carrying what they can. Today you found a heavier load than most, but you are strong enough. I’ve seen it in your eyes since you were little. Always running, always smiling, even in this dry place where others only complain. This fire in you, it has been there all along."

The room fell quiet again, this time not out of fear but out of respect. They all looked at Maelin differently, not as just the middle child who helped everywhere, but as something new. Something more.

She forced a smile, though her voice quivered. "If you all believe in me... then maybe I can believe in me too."

That night the house was quieter than usual. The children usually whispered and giggled long after their parents had put out the lantern, but not this evening. The air carried a strange heaviness, as though everyone was still holding their breath after what had happened in the village square.

Maelin lay on her straw mattress, staring at the wooden beams above. The shadows of the flickering fire outside crawled across the ceiling, reminding her of what had burst out of her own hands. Every time she blinked, she saw the startled face of the neighbor, the gasps of the villagers, and the calm eyes of the elder.

Her chest thumped with restless energy. She turned onto her side, then onto her back again. "Why me?" she whispered to herself.

The room was filled with the gentle snores of her younger brothers. Her older sisters were still awake, she could hear them shifting, but no one spoke. It seemed everyone was waiting to see what she would do next.

Maelin pulled her hands out from beneath her blanket and held them above her chest. In the dim light, they looked ordinary, small, scarred from work, calloused at the tips. But she knew they weren’t ordinary anymore.

She curled her fingers into fists, then slowly spread them open. "Come on," she whispered, almost pleading. "Just a spark. Just so I know it’s real."

For a moment, nothing happened. She held her breath until her lungs ached. Then, just as she was about to give up, the faintest glow shimmered across her palm. It was no bigger than a candle flame, just a tiny dance of heat, but it was enough to make her heart leap.

The warmth spread through her arm, not painful, not burning but alive. Her whole body tingled like she had swallowed the sun. She quickly clenched her fist, snuffing it out before it could grow. The room was dark again, but she could still feel the fire flickering inside her, waiting.

Tears stung her eyes. She wasn’t sure if they were from fear or joy. Maybe both. She rolled onto her side, hugging her blanket tight around her. "I’ll learn to control it," she promised herself, her whisper barely audible. "I’ll make them proud. I’ll make me proud. I will be optimistic."

Outside, the distant mountain loomed in the darkness. The volcano’s slopes glowed faintly red in the night, as if it had heard her vow and answered with its silent, patient fire.