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PREVIOUSLY...
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Azura went to confront Jile in Warroll, reminded of her goal to find those responsible for the ambush that killed Dax. Jile surprised Azura by poisoning her with demon blood and through hallucinations, she was reminded of the time she let him abuse her to save Dax, before Jile cut her throat. In her fear and anger, Azura discovered a power within herself and fire came from her, burning Jile alive. She ran before she and her strange new powers could be discovered.

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I don't recall the journey back to the Order beyond stumbling into the bathroom and turning on the water in the bath. I don't think I even bothered to make it warm, but I don't notice for my skin is already icy.

I sit in the water with my face pressed to my knees, eyes fixed like a statue, the heavy stench of smoke and charred flesh still lingering in my nose. Soot covers my skin, but I can't seem to lift my aching arms to scrub it away.

"She's been in there for hours." The voices beyond the door mean little to me, I can't fathom the will to care.

I don't know what's happening to me. I don't know what I am anymore. Perhaps before I could convince myself I was only slightly different but now...

I wrap my arms tighter around myself as a whimper breaks past my lips like a wounded and dying animal.

There's a timid knock on the door, one that I ignore like all the others.

"Azura?" Suri's voice reaches through the wood. The concern in her voice doesn't help ease the cold in my chest that's formed since the fire. "Are you alright?"

I don't have the words to answer her because I'm far from alright but I don't know what I am.

There're some soft murmurings before the doorknob jiggles and then opens. I lift my chin from my knees as Ari slips into the room, closing the door behind him.

"It's freezing in here," he notes, gazing into the dark until his eyes find me. He blinks a couple of times as his eyes adjust, then he frowns. "You're covered in soot."

"What are you doing, Ari?" I rasp, lowering my chin back to my knees and gazing at the drip of water from the taps.

"Checking if you're still breathing," he replies before he kneels beside the bath. He rolls up his sleeves, reaches for the taps and then the deep rumble of the stream of water fills the silent room. Warmth spreads through the icy water and I sigh, bumps scattering along my skin. Ari grabs a bar of soap and a cloth and turns to me. "May I?"

I nod, turning my head to rest my cheek on my knees, watching him as he shifts. He doesn't touch me with his hands, just the soap and cloth as he cleans the black stains from my skin. My scars are on display, but I can't seem to find the energy to be concerned about such a thing.

The pain of my past is etched onto my skin, telling a gruesome tale that most don't want to read.

"Who did this to you?" he asks, tentative, as though he doesn't expect me to answer as his gaze lingers on a particularly brutal scar up my back.

For a long moment I don't reply, my lips sealed shut. But then I sigh. "Pain is a valuable teacher."

He runs the cloth along a deep scar between my ribs, precise and even. "That's not an answer."

"Does it matter? He's dead now."

Ari meets my tired gaze as a crease forms between his brows. "Some pain runs deeper than scars, so yes, it does matter. But you don't have to tell me." He focuses again on his task, letting the evidence of my harrowing experience trickle from my skin. But he's right, some pains are deeper than that.

"I went to Warroll," I tell him, his caress along the back of my neck gentle and soothing. "I killed someone who needed killing."

"But that's not why you've locked yourself in here."

I settle my gaze on him, questions in his gaze. He wants to ask them but he doesn't, he lets me speak as I did him.

I don't know if I should tell him. I don't know if I can fully trust him with something I don't even understand myself. But I want to. I want to be able to rely on someone else, to seek comfort, something my brother taught me never to do. But my brother never prepared me for this... fire.

"There's flame in my veins, Ari," I tell him, my voice hushed in the pressing darkness of the room, fearful that the shadows have ears. "There's no magic in my blood, but somehow there's fire, and I wielded it today."

Ari's hands stop, but he doesn't say anything.

"I think in a way I've always felt it," I continue before my throat can close. "It's always been there, waiting, but today was the day it consumed me. And I'm terrified because I have no idea what it is."

Ari shifts to lean against the lip of the bath so he can look me in the eye, the smell of soap now burying the stench of ash. "Don't be scared of yourself, Azura. You'll learn what this is and you'll gain control of it."

"How do you know?"

Ari smiles and reaches forward to tuck a wet strand of my hair behind my ear. "Because I'm a shape-shifter, born with an ability that's not even completely understood by the smartest scholars of my people. I know what it's like to be afraid of myself." Ari's fingertips brush against my cheek and I lean into the touch, warm against my cold. "I've seen your strength, Azura, this won't consume you."

"I wish I had your belief," I murmur, closing my eyes.

"You're not alone. We're all here to support you."

"Why? Why would you pledge yourself like that?"

He chuckles and I open my eyes at the soft sound. "I'm not pledging myself, Azura. I'm telling you that we're your friends and we'll support you through this. It's the least we can do."

"But I've done nothing for you."

He smiles. "You made me see that I don't have to fight my battles alone. Not anymore."

Ari manages to coax me out of the bath, keeping his eyes on my face as I wrap my arms around my bare breasts. He reaches for a towel and drapes it over my shoulders, patting me dry as I watch him, curious about his kindness and my own ease with being vulnerable around him.

Never has Ari leered at me. Never have his eyes strayed for too long and made me uncomfortable. Never have his hands gripped or bruised, apart from the time I needed him to hurt me in front of Erasmus. He's not Jile and I don't think he's even capable of such cruelty.

"Your markings," he murmurs, taking my hand into his where it was curled in the towel. He brushes his thumbs against the embedded golden marks, their glow faint on his pale skin. "They're beautiful."

I let out a shuddering breath at that, blinking as I look at the markings. They've always been a curse, a liability, something I've tried to get rid of or tried to hide. Never have I seen them as anything other than a burden. "I... suppose they are," I reply with a shaky voice. I meet his gaze as he reaches up and cradles my jaw in his hand. I lean into the touch, near starved for it as I sigh against him. "Thank you."

I see it in his gaze, he knows I'm thanking him for more than just complimenting my markings. I thank him for many things, but one of them is seeing me in a way most have never cared to.