Chapter 3: The Plan of Fire and Fear

Chapter 3: The Plan of Fire and Fear

Time was slipping through my fingers like water. She was weakening fast. The machines draining her mind were becoming more aggressive. Her ability to see the future had gone from a gift to a curse — and soon, it would kill her.

I wasn’t ready.

But her father was. In the dim underground cell, we carved out a plan with whispered words and clenched jaws. Every detail mattered — the timing of the guards, the shifts of the cameras, the pulse of the walls. The fortress was alive. We had to move like ghosts.

Her father would start the fire.

That was the only way. His super strength had been bound by suppressors, but he told me something that gave me chills: pain weakens the cuffs. If he tore open old wounds, the cuffs would flicker. Just for a moment. Just enough.

He would bleed for his daughter.

Meanwhile, I prepared her. Each night, I trained her how to shrink on command with my help — it was risky, but her trust in me grew with every passing hour. She never said “I love you,” but she didn’t need to. The way she looked at me now — like I was her only light — was enough.

The day came.

At exactly 3:33 AM, the fortress shook with the sound of alarms. Flames exploded from the underground level. I felt it in my chest. Her father had done it. The cuffs had failed — even if only for seconds — and he used that time to rip through steel and chaos.

I took her hand.

We shrank down and slid through the bathroom drain, our bodies slipping into the maze of pipes. It stank of chemicals and metal, but it didn’t matter. We were getting out. My heart pounded in my ears as we twisted through the narrow corridors of the fortress, my instincts leading the way.

But we weren’t fast enough.

By the time we reached the lower exit, the guards were waiting. Someone had tipped them off. Maybe a camera caught us. Maybe fate just wasn’t on our side.

They dragged me out of the pipe, beating me with electric rods. I saw her scream, but I couldn’t hear her. My ears were ringing. My vision faded in and out. Then—

Her father.

A wall crumbled, and there he was — bloodied, burnt, half-dead, but still moving. Still fighting. He roared like a beast, tossing guards aside like they were paper. I tried to move, but my body wouldn’t listen.

Then, he did the unthinkable.

With his last breath, he lifted her — unconscious, fragile — and threw her into the sky with all his might.

I transformed mid-air, feathers ripping through skin, bones reshaping into wings.

As a vulture, I caught her in the wind. I flew with everything I had, every fiber of my soul screaming for survival. She was still breathing. Her father's body lay still below. But his fight lived on in us.

We were free.

For now

Writer - thank you for reading and also thank you 'Lourdes zabala' for showing support.

BTW 😅 I HAVE ONLY WRITTEN 5 CHAPTERS

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