Burning Beneath

Mia hesitated, her fingers twisting the edge of her sleeve as she took a breath. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the bedside lamp. Sam sat across from her, waiting, the golden mark on her palm pulsing with a gentle warmth, as if it, too, anticipated what was about to be revealed.

“I have a secret too,” Mia finally said. “I have a gift for languages. All of them.”

Sam frowned. “Languages?”

Mia nodded. “Not just modern ones. Ancient ones. Lost scripts. Dead dialects. I don’t just study them—I see patterns, I understand meanings most people miss. And I learned to keep my mouth shut about it because no one ever cared. Or worse, they mocked me for it.”

The words sent a shiver through Sam, and suddenly, a memory surfaced. The first time they met.

It was in a store smelled of old paper and worn leather, the scent of history pressed between pages. Sam had wandered in, drawn by the promise of silence, by the stacks of forgotten texts that offered her a place to vanish. She was careful not to be noticed, careful to blend into the quiet corners where no one asked questions.

And then, she had seen her.

Mia was perched on a wooden stool, nose buried in a thick, dust-covered book. She muttered under her breath, lips forming words Sam couldn’t quite catch. There was something about the way she moved, the way she flipped between pages with an almost impatient hunger, as if she already knew what she was looking for and only needed the book to confirm it.

Sam had picked up a book at random—a weathered tome with unfamiliar symbols dancing across the pages. She skimmed it, intrigued, but uncertain.

Then Mia spoke.

“That’s Old Norse. You read it wrong.”

Sam had stiffened, her instinct screaming at her to retreat. She hadn’t expected to be noticed.

Mia had tapped the page, pointing. “See here? This character doesn’t mean what you think it does.” She spoke casually, like she wasn’t completely unraveling the careful wall Sam had built around herself.

Sam had hesitated, but curiosity won out over caution. “What does it mean, then?”

Mia’s eyes had lit up, and for the next few minutes, she had explained. Not in the condescending way most people did when they realized they knew something others didn’t, but with genuine enthusiasm. She had wanted to share.

And for the first time in a long while, Sam had wanted to stay in the conversation.

Sam blinked, the memory dissolving as she returned to the present, to the dim glow of her bedroom and the weight of Mia’s confession hanging between them.

She understood now.

“That’s why you knew,” Sam murmured. “That day in the bookstore.”

Mia gave a small, knowing smile. “I’ve always known more than people think.”

The golden mark on Sam’s palm pulsed again, but this time, the warmth felt different. Not just a reminder, but an affirmation.

The fire had remade them both. And now, together, they would uncover the truth.