Solaris grew up beneath the broken statue without knowing what lived inside her.
Sometimes, she dreamt about it. She would see a vast heartbeat beneath stone or wings beating somewhere in a smoky fog. Then she would hear a cry that harbinged a torrent of fire.
And then she would wake up.
Her family called her gifted. Tutors came from other cities to study the depth of her Grace. Fire answered her before she learned an actual Skill.
Candles leaned toward her when she passed. Furnaces rose when she became angry. Every open flame in the estate followed the movement of her hands.
At six, she burned through a reinforced training target with a Skill meant to warm a cup.
At eight, she set an entire courtyard alight after a Beast-horn instructor struck her across the knuckles.
At ten, she nearly killed three tutors. The lesson had begun with a simple sphere of fire.
