Controlled burn

97. Ch12 S11-13

Hi! This is Bottled Embers.

Did you know that you can get these episodes delivered straight to your inbox? If that sounds amazing, click here (it’s free!):

---

INDEX | Chapter 12 | Scene 1 | Scenes 2 & 3 | Scenes 4 & 5 | Scenes 6 & 7 | Scene 8 | Scenes 9 & 10 | Scenes 11 - 13 | Next Scene → Coming soon.

---

Previously: Misty and Logan arrive at the cabin and get settled in, while Luke stays behind to deal with the PG.

---

The cold air clings to my skin as we step out of the cozy cabin. My energy adjusts automatically, to ward off the chill, as Logan zips up his heavy, puffy parka. I suppress my grimace at how awkward it looks, and swallow the last bite of my energy bar.

The snow muffles everything. There’s no rustle of leaves, no hum of distant engines. Only the crunch of Logan’s boots on the path as my own feet sink inches into the soft white blanket covering the bowl.

It’s nice and wide, a few kilometers across. Serviceable. Open enough to move in, small enough to stay focused. The fog touching the treetops and jagged cliffs forming a ridge all around, make it feel like an island. We’re all alone.

“Big enough for you?” Logan asks, grinning like this is already a win.

I give him a small nod. “Warmup?”

“Powerup.” Logan’s grin widens, as he takes a few steps back, stretching his arms overhead, his breath puffing little clouds of mist. “Just keep it in the bowl.”

I raise an eyebrow, resisting the urge to question him and roll my shoulders, letting energy course through my muscles.

Eyes on Logan, I plant my feet, matching him. My hands take on the faintest green glow as his fingertips spark and twitch.

His stance changes, to casual, almost lazy. He bounces lightly on his toes.

“Rules?” I inquire, but he shakes his head as I start to feel light, like I want to lift off the ground, still going higher. No rules.

His grin says this is all a game, but I know him better than that. He’s watching me, waiting for the first move.

I let out a slow breath. My energy surges, steady and controlled, a second pulse.

I see the opening, and shift my weight forward before he does. I dart toward him, testing the space between us as Logan sidesteps, smooth and deliberate, his boots crunching in the snow. He’s fast, but not fast enough to avoid the sharp swipe of my arm aimed at his shoulder.

He twists, letting the blow glance off, and capitalizes with a counterstrike in the opposite direction. I roll out of the way.

He moves in a blink, closing the gap between us with a feint to the left before sweeping low. I pivot sharply, avoiding the strike, and counter with a spin, forcing him to leap back to avoid my foot.

"Still holding back?” He asks as I straighten then adds, “don’t think I’ll go easy on you.”

The air between us crackles with energy now, my own barely contained while his confidence burns brighter.

“Well then,” He says, flexing his fingers and shifting into a ready stance. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Logan charges, and this time, I don’t hold back.

---

Misty matches my grin, as I shake my head, throwing out the rule book she clings to so tightly. The snow crunches beneath my boots, and for a fleeting moment, I consider shedding the parka—the heat coursing through me almost demands it—but I let the thought pass. Too late now.

The air hums between us as she powers up. I watch the tension leave her shoulders, the energy threading through her muscles. She mirror's me, precisely, of course. Always holding back, always measured.

I keep my stance loose, bouncing playfully on my toes, keeping it light. It’s not about showing off—well, not entirely. But I’m waiting for her to make her move. She watches, searching for the right moment, an opening, so, I give it to her.

Her movement is lightning—sharp, almost too fast to track. She closes the distance in a blink, a green-lit streak against the snow. I sidestep, letting her strike glance off my shoulder, and pivot into a counterstrike. She’s already rolling away, quick as ever.

“Not bad,” I call out, testing her. I shift my stance, a feint to the left before sweeping low. She pivots, spinning cleanly out of reach and forcing me back with a kick aimed squarely at my chest.

Her precision is maddening. Every move calculated, measured. Not reckless enough. Yes, this isn’t a real fight, but she doesn’t realize how much that hesitation slows her down.

“Still holding back?” I ask, grinning wider.

She straightens, flexing her fingers. That smirk—just a little—is all the answer I need.

“Don’t think I’ll go easy on you,” I add, knowing that it’s a lie. For now at least.

The tension between us builds, crackling with unspent energy. I can feel her testing the limits, her power bubbling just under the surface. But I know she’s still holding on to that leash. I know why she’s afraid to let go, but there’s nothing for it, if she wants to get better.

Time to commit.

I charge, closing the gap in an instant. This time, she meets me head-on, her energy flaring brighter, faster. Our blows connect, blurring together, light against light. The impacts send waves of force through the snow, spraying it in sheets of darkening mud and swirling chaos.

She’s good—better than she lets herself believe. But I’m better.

I let loose, instinct takes over, my movements honed by years of experience. A step here, a twist there, each feint and strike designed to steer her where I want her to go. Her responses betray her. She’s still not taking me seriously.

Shifting the rhythm constantly, I steadily push her energy higher with each exchange, forcing her to dig deeper, let more of that raw energy slip through.

The green fire starts at her fingertips—just a flicker at first.

“You’re holding back!” I call again, deflecting her strike and slipping inside her guard, almost at the limit of my natural speed. She dodges, sharp as ever, but I catch the split second hesitation. The crack in her control.

Perfect.

I push harder, letting my own energy swell, sparks dancing at my fingertips. The golden glow creeps into my peripheral vision, my fingers sparking as the transformation starts to take hold. I keep my focus razor-sharp, gauging her every move, as I revel in the joy of the energetic release.

“Now we work on reaching your peak.” I say, my voice steady, even playful, as I propel us into the air. Then I see it.

She falters. Just for a heartbeat, but it’s there—a flicker of fear. Her precision wavers as the fight becomes real to her, too real. Her flames intensify. I catch the scent of singed fabric as her dress begins to smoke, or maybe it’s me. I can’t tell.

“Come on Misty!” I shout, driving forward to snap her out of it. “Stop thinking, and fight!”

Her response is instantaneous. A surge of green energy slams into me like a tidal wave, sending me backward, twenty meters before I can stop. That’s more like it.

I anchor myself, unable to suppress a laugh as I let even more energy out. For the first time, I feel myself straining to meet her. She’s lightning fast as she strikes, wild and powerful, slipping past my defenses. A sharp jab nearly catches me in the ribs, and for a brief moment, I’m forced to retreat.

That’s when it hits me.

This isn’t even close to what we’re capable of.

It’s exhilarating—and sobering. It’s been years since I’ve felt this alive in a fight, not since…

Tom.

The thought strikes as hard as any blow, a fleeting memory of him beside me, energy roaring, pushing me to my own limits. I shove it aside. Not now.

Misty’s flames surge again, brighter than ever, and I realize I’m not just keeping up anymore—I’m falling behind.

For a heartbeat, pride swells in my chest. She’s finally letting go. She’s surpassing me.

My own energy blazes, uncontrolled, my golden light surging higher, and my euphoria with it. It’s intoxicating, having every nerve alive with power. I push further. It wraps around me, raw and unbridled.

Misty shouts my name, her voice cutting through the storm of energy. I feel her power dip slightly, she wants to stop, but I’m not stopping now. I’m so close to the peak. I don’t want to.

---

“Now we work on reaching your peak.” He says, his playful tone at odds with the unease knotting in my chest.

This is wasting a lot of energy. For the past two years I’ve maintained a careful balance—minimal penance, minimal pain. But if I let out much more now, there’s no way I’ll avoid the regen. I’m not sure I’m ready to face that again.

Logan must know, though. He must have his reasons for taking this risk now. He’s the trainer. don’t question.

I push aside my worry and match his pace. A controlled climb is hardly the ideal way to reach full power. It’s better to let it out, unleash it, all at once. But I do it his way, striking and deflecting as we spar, only a few meters above the ground, until he starts to change.

I’ve seen him lit up before. From a distance at the base, and back on Telera, when they found me. But this is different. Even as we spar, and I push him closer and closer to the peak of his formidable speed, I can still feel him holding back.

Each blow he lands drives me harder, forcing me to keep up with his steady rise. My body responds instinctively, reacting, despite my troubled thoughts, dragging me closer to that point of no return.

His skin lights first, glowing faintly just like mine. My next strike catches his shoulder, but doesn’t push him back. He’s getting denser. Then his hair stands up, glowing gold and shedding the black from the root in chunks, as though the color is burning away. His form grows more defined, his muscles bulging beneath the thick clothing that strains against the seams.

Maybe the slow climb is so I can see it happen, to clearly mark each shift.

I swing harder, aiming to land a clean blow, but he deflects it easily. And in that moment his eyes change. His pupils turn Manorian blue, and expand, swallowing those beautiful green irises until there’s nothing left.

He grins, sharp and wild as he watches me watch him. He’s enjoying this. I stop at the threshold—out of horror. He doesn’t care.

The storm erupts around him, pushing me further away as it crackles and surges along his arms and legs. The bright red parka starts to blacken, as a wild fire lights his eyes and that grin sharpens with every passing second.

“Logan!” I call out, but he doesn’t react. It’s as if he can’t hear me. I reach out through the sync. Logan! You have to stop! Nothing.

I try to move closer but the force of his energy forms a barrier, blasting me back to the ground. He rises slowly, the power around him still building.

I can't reach him unless I power up—higher than him. But that would mean…

No choice.

I take a breath, knowing what the choice will cost and let go.

In an instant I’m on fire, my body blazing as launch myself at him, leaving a wake of silver green light.

The collision is swift and brutal. My knuckles slam into his head with all the force I can muster. For a moment, everything freezes. Then in an instant, his light flickers out. He hovers another breathless second, then his body goes limp, plummeting to the ground, hitting the slurry below with a plop.

“Logan!” I crush forward, panic surging through me, “Are you OK?”

“Spoilsport.” He mumbles.

---

Next Time: Misty and Logan get stuck into training and figuring out how to use their sense sync in battle when they get a message from Luke.

---

If you enjoyed this episode, and know someone else who might like it too — do me a favor and help me get the word out:

and as always, I love hearing what you think so, feel free to:

---

Author’s Notes:

Hi everyone.

I love Christmas.

I love everything about it. The weather is even great, since it pretty much rains every year. It’s hard work. It’s busy and thankless and so so exhausting, but the memories are worth it.

I hope yours was good.

I’m also glad it’s over.

So now, I’m late—again, having been too busy making a Christmas for my Love and my girls to write, but at least it’s still Friday, somewhere in the world. I’ll catch up next week.

* * *

Thanks for reading!

Remember, I love comments, and I love to hear about anything this piece made you feel. I’m always super happy to chat about anything BE related.

Also, if you want to support this project, don’t forget to like with that little heart 💓 down below and share ♻️!!

Until next time.

- Jenny*

---

P.S.

The Sci-Friday tags. I think most of the guys and gals are ignoring them so I’m not including everyone—only

Von

since he sends us the digest anyway.😉 Thanks for that.

- J*