Flames of fate

Chapter 1: The Tale of Our Home

"Fifty years ago, when they attacked our people, our abuelo and abuela fled with the others, searching for a safe place to live," I said, my voice lowering for dramatic effect. My little cousins leaned in, eyes wide with anticipation as the fire crackled beside us. The soft glow of the flames danced across their eager faces; casting shadows that made the story seem even more alive.

"They were followed," I continued, "but abuelo managed to lead them far away. However..." I paused for effect, letting the tension build. "Abuela was lost to them. Abuelo was heartbroken."

Oohs and ahhs filled the small circle. Even Maria, my little sister, who had heard this story countless times, looked up at me with wide, expectant eyes.

"Tía always said that he banged his fist to the ground in fury for his beloved wife, and suddenly, in the distance, a bright light shone. The candle he was holding burst into a huge flame that burned the bad men chasing them."

Maria gasped, and the younger children sat up straighter, caught in the magic of the tale. "And then," I continued, my voice dropping to a whisper, "huge mountains began to form around abuelo and our people, rising from the earth itself, shielding them from harm."

I spread my arms wide, mimicking the towering mountains. "And that, mi amigos, is how our home was made."

The kids' eyes were glued to me, filled with awe. "How old was papa when that happened?" Maria asked, her voice small and curious. 

I smiled, reaching out to ruffle her hair. "From what I've been told, probably around his 20s, mija."

Just as I was about to wrap up the story, a voice from behind me shouted, "Boo!"

I shrieked, nearly jumping out of my skin. "Ekkk!" I whipped around, my heart racing, only to see my cousin standing there with his trademark smirk. Black hair, blue poncho, a mischievous glint in his eye. Of course, it was Miguel, my cousin who loved sneaking up on me every chance he got.

He was leaning against the sofa, chuckling. "Ha, never gets old."

I glared at him, heat rising in my palms. "You know I could've burned you—"

"But you didn't," he interrupted, his grin widening. "Even though you have the power of fire, you could never have the guts to burn me."

My fists clenched, my flames flickering in and out, but before I could get a word in edgewise, a voice yelled from downstairs, "AREPAS ARE READY!"

Miguel's smug expression instantly changed to excitement. "Ooo, arepas!" And just like that, in a flash, he was gone.

I sighed, rolling my eyes. "Come on, everyone," I said to the kids, standing up from the circle. "Let's go eat."

The six of us—my cousins and little sister—headed to the dining room. As we entered, we were greeted by the scent of freshly cooked arepas, but the tension in the air was unmistakable. Carlos, our eldest cousin, stood by the doorway with a worried look on his face. He always got that way when abuelo was doing one of his 'check-ups.'

"Ah, niños, come, come. Eat," our abuelo said, his voice firm but warm. His black hair had streaks of white, and his eyes always carried that piercing, all-knowing gaze that made you feel like he could see right through you. We all took our seats quietly, glancing around the table.

Something was off.

Whenever abuelo called us down for a meal, it usually meant something more than just food. It meant a test. And abuelo's tests were never easy. There was always a lesson hidden beneath his stern look, a challenge to prove ourselves worthy of the gifts we had been given.

As we sat down, abuelo's eyes scanned the table, taking stock of every one of us. The silence stretched on, thick with unspoken expectations. He sighed deeply, and I could feel the weight of his disappointment settling over us.

"Wait... we're missing one," he said, his voice low and unsatisfied. His gaze shifted toward the empty seat next to me. "Where is Miguel?"

Before anyone could answer, a voice spoke from beside me. "I'm right here, abuelo." Nabeel, of course, had appeared out of thin air, casually leaning back in his chair with that same smug grin. blending into the background as if he had always been there.

Abuelo's expression tightened, but he said nothing. Miguel's ability to appear and disappear at will was both a gift and a nuisance, especially when it came to family meals like this. Still, abuelo never gave him a pass. No one got special treatment.

We ate quietly for a few moments, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. I could feel the fire inside me flickering impatiently, responding to the stress in the room. I always had a harder time controlling it when I was nervous, and abuelo had a way of making everyone feel on edge.

"Y/N," abuelo said suddenly, his eyes locking onto mine. "i heard that you lashed out today, almost burning one of the villager's barn."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Yes, abuelo."

He studied me for a moment longer, then turned his gaze to the rest of the table. "And do you understand why we stay here? Why we do not leave the valley?" it was as if he knew my question had.

I hesitated, glancing at Nabeel, who had his usual cocky expression, clearly unbothered. But I couldn't ignore the growing crack I had seen in the mountains earlier, the one that had sparked all of my questions. "Because it's safe here," I answered carefully, my voice softer than usual.

Abuelo's eyes narrowed. "Safe," he repeated, as if testing the word. "Yes. We are safe here. But it is not safety that keeps us. It is the balance of our gifts. Do you understand, Y/N?"

I nodded, though I wasn't entirely sure I did. There was more to our valley than just safety. I could feel it. And after the tremor earlier, something had shifted. I wanted to ask abuelo about it, but I knew better than to question him in front of everyone. He didn't tolerate doubt.

"Finish your meal," he said, his tone final. "And remember—your gifts are not just for yourselves. They are for our people. They are for our home." and he gave me one last glance, it sent a sharp jolt down my spine, i knew what it had meant, all of my family's gifts were important except....mine, i was destruction, a force to be contained, never to be let out, kept in solitude...forever

As we ate in silence, my mind raced. The crack in the mountains, the tremors... there was something out there. Something abuelo wasn't telling us.

And I had to find out what it was.