ZYRAN’S POV

I snapped the lighter shut with a loud click. The sound jolted me out of the memory. A tear slipped from my eye and rolled slowly down my cheek.

I hated that memory, I truly detested it because it reminded me of the bastard I used to be. I was a psycho so addicted to fire that I stood there and watched innocent victims burn instead of trying to save them.

Even now, I still loved fire. The deep, primal fascination remained buried in my mind, but it wasn’t as strong as before. I had spent years fighting it, trying hard to overcome that sick addiction, especially after...