Page 3 of Sun's Roar

The celebratory mood had evaporated completely. Everyone looked between the damage and Helena with confusion written across their faces.

“You okay, Chef?” Marco asked, concern creasing his brow. “You look paler than usual.”

“Fine. Just—” She forced a weak smile. “Not how I pictured my birthday ending.”

Zoe stepped closer, lowering her voice. “We can clean this up. Maybe you should head home.”

Home. Yes. Somewhere private where she could process whatever impossible thing was happening to her.

Helena shook her head, trying to ignore how her fingertips still tingled with phantom heat. “I can stay,” Helena said, though every instinct screamed for her to run. “My kitchen, my responsibility.”

Helena grabbed a mop, attacking the foam-covered floor while trying to keep her hands from trembling. The acrid smell of smoke hung in the air, but beneath it, she detected something else—a scent like cinnamon and woodsmoke that seemed oddly comforting. Her fingers tingled with remembered heat as she worked.

“You know,” she said to Marco as he scrubbed carbon scoring from a stainless-steel counter, “I’ve never seen small birthday candles do that.”

“Me neither.” He shook his head. “Must’ve been defective or something.”

Helena nodded, but doubt gnawed at her. The flames hadn’t felt defective—they had feltright. Like old friends reaching out to greet her after years apart. Even now, as she glanced at the charred ceiling tiles, she felt an inexplicable pull toward the damage rather than revulsion.

The kitchen door swung open, and Tyanna breezed in, her ponytail swinging. As the restaurant’s bar manager, she rarely ventured into Helena’s domain.

“Holy shit, Helena! I heard there was a five-alarm situation in here.” Tyanna whistled, surveying the damage. “Happy birthday, I guess?”

“Thanks.” Helena leaned on her mop. “Maybe turning thirty means entering my firestarter phase. Should I start collecting lighters and matches?”

Tyanna laughed, grabbing paper towels to help clean. “Girl, please. If you were going to have a pyro breakdown, it would’ve happened during that month when the health inspector kept showing up unannounced.”

Helena smiled, but her mind suddenly flashed back to countless memories she’d never examined too closely before. Like how she’d always volunteered to tend campfires during Girl Scout trips, how she found the dancing flames of her gas range soothing after stressful days, and how she’d always chosen candles over electric lights when entertaining at home.

“Maybe I’ve always been a little obsessed with fire,” she murmured.

“All chefs are,” Tyanna replied, bumping Helena’s hip with her own. “It’s literally your job to play with fire.”

When the kitchen finally gleamed again—albeit with a few battle scars—Helena dragged herself to her car. The evening air felt unusually cool against her skin, which had maintained a pleasant warmth since the incident. She slid behind the wheel and pressed her fingertips to the steering wheel, half expecting the leather to sizzle beneath her touch.

Her phone suddenly rang, her mother’s face lighting up the screen.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart!” her mother’s voice sang through the speaker.

“Thanks, Mom.” Helena smiled despite her inner turmoil.

“Did you do anything special?”

Helena’s throat tightened. “Just a small thing at work. Nothing spectacular.” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue, but how could she possibly explain what had happened?Hi, Mom, I think I might be able to create fire with my bare hands. No big deal.

After promising to visit soon, Helena ended the call and sat in silence, staring at her hands. The desire to see flames dance across her skin again was almost overwhelming—not destructive, not dangerous, but like a musician longing to hear a familiar melody. She flexed her fingers, searching for that inner heat that had surged through her veins earlier.

“What’s even happening to me? And why now?” she whispered to her empty car.

The questions hung unanswered as Helena started the engine. But she couldn’t shake the terrifying certainty that something fundamental had changed—that her predictable, carefully constructed life had just gone up in flames.

TWO

SOL

Sol stretched his arms across the cool marble edge of the infinity pool. Water droplets cascaded down his tanned chest as he tilted his face toward the setting sun. His castle’s backyard transformed into a golden paradise at this hour, the dying light catching on every wet surface and turning his domain into a kingdom of fire.

“Impressive turnout,” Joshua remarked beside him, his dark hair slicked back with pool water. “Your pack parties are becoming legendary.”

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