The Final Breath

Sirens never reached this part of the city. Only echoes. Only smoke. Billy Kane pressed his palms over his mother’s ears. “Mom, stay down!”

Her breath hitched, sharp, terrified. “Billy, don’t move.”

The apartment door exploded inward. Wood, metal, and sparks. Three men in black stormed the hallway, no faces, just masks glinting under red emergency light.

“Where’s the file?” one barked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” his father shouted, grabbing a steel rod from the shelf. “Get away from my family!”

Billy froze. He’d never seen his father like that, eyes blazing, voice trembling. Another man stepped forward, gun steady. “Wrong answer.”

The shot cracked the room apart. Billy’s scream never came. Sound died before it reached his throat. Something inside him twisted, pressure, heat, pulse.

The air rippled, like invisible waves spreading from his chest. The men staggered. One clutched his head. “What, what was that?”

His mother’s hand grabbed Billy’s wrist, trembling. “Run,”

Too late. A fist smashed through her jawline of light, dragging her backward. His father lunged, striking once, twice, until another shot threw him against the wall.

Billy’s world tilted. His hands burned, veins lit like wire. The lights flickered, bulbs bursting above him. For half a second, the men hesitated, watching a kid radiate energy like a live wire. Then one shouted, “Take him!”

A blast of air knocked the man off his feet. Not from a gun. From Billy. It lasted only a heartbeat, then collapsed, leaving him shaking, terrified, smoke rising from his palms.

He heard footsteps. New ones. Heavy, deliberate. A shadow stepped through the ruined doorway. A tall man in a long gray coat, hood low, face half-hidden.

“Enough,” the man said quietly. His voice cut through the chaos like cold steel.

The attackers froze. “Who the hell are you?” one demanded.

“No one you’ll remember.”

The man’s hand moved, a blur. Two of the masked intruders hit the ground before Billy saw how. The third fired, missed, then went flying into a shelf as if yanked by invisible threads.

The silence that followed was thin and shaking. Only the dripping of a broken pipe. Billy crouched by his parents, his father’s eyes already dim, his mother’s fingers cold. “Dad…? Mom…?”

The stranger’s shadow fell over him. “They’re gone,” he said. No softness in his tone, only truth. “And they didn’t die for nothing.”

Billy’s face lifted, streaked with dust and blood. “Who are you?”

“Someone who’s been waiting for you.” The man knelt, studying the scorch marks on Billy’s hands. “You felt it, didn’t you?”

“What,  what was that?”

“Power. Untamed. Dangerous to you until you learn control.”

Billy’s lips trembled. “You could’ve saved them.”

“I wasn’t here for them.” A pause. “I was here for you.”

The boy backed away, trembling. “You’re crazy.”

“Maybe.” The man’s tone didn’t shift. “But if you stay here, you’ll be dead before sunrise. They’ll send more. You’ve seen too much.”

Billy looked toward his parents’ still bodies, the quiet weight of finality sinking in. “I can’t leave them.”

“You already have.”

Sirens wailed now, distant but closing in.

“Who are they?” Billy asked, voice cracking.

“People who think they own the elements. People your father tried to expose.”

The man reached out his hand. “Come with me, or stay and find out how deep the dark goes.”

Billy stared at the offered hand. His own still glowed faintly, like dying embers. He whispered, “Why me?”

“Because you survived,” the man said simply. “That’s reason enough.”

Another explosion rattled the street below, cars overturning, fire spreading through the block. The masked men’s backup had arrived. The stranger grabbed Billy’s arm. “Move.”

Billy resisted. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere they can’t find you.”

They ran down the stairwell, smoke swirling around them. Billy coughed, eyes burning. “Who are you?” he demanded again.

The man didn’t look back. “Call me Gwen.”

“Master Gwen?”

A faint smile. “Not yet.”

They burst through the alley into cold night. Firelight behind them painted the buildings orange. Billy stopped, gasping. “My home, it’s gone.”

Gwen turned, his silhouette framed by flame. “So is your past. From now on, every answer you want will come with a price.”

He tossed Billy a coin, old, bronze, marked with a strange sigil. “What’s this?” Billy asked.

“Proof that you were chosen. And a promise, that one day, you’ll make them pay.”

The boy closed his fist around it, shaking. “I don’t even know how.”

Gwen’s eyes glimmered under the hood. “You will. You’re already burning.”

Behind them, the city screamed, glass breaking, engines roaring, lives unraveling. Billy looked once more toward the collapsing apartment.

The faint heat from his palms spread through the coin. Gwen’s voice was quiet, steady. “That fire inside you, don’t fear it. Feed it. Until it learns your name.”

Billy followed him into the night. The flames swallowed the last of his childhood.