Chapter 8 · The Boy by the Fire

The clocktower stairs smell like burnt paper and old copper. I'm halfway up when Julian stops.

"Wait." His hand shoots out, blocks my chest. "Look."

The stone under our feet is black. Not dirty black. Scorched black. The kind of black that only happens when fire sits in one place and eats through rock.

I crouch. Run my fingers over the edge. The burn line is perfect. Straight as a ruler. Like someone drew it with a blowtorch and then walked away.

"This was controlled," I say.

Julian nods. "The fire started here. Not at the base. Here."

Sera's already three steps ahead, her tracker's lens pressed to the wall. "Accelerant residue. Old, but still readable. Whoever set this knew what they were doing."

I stand up. My chest feels tight. "My family burned at the base of the tower. Everyone said the fire started in the storage room."

"Everyone lied," Julian says.

I want to hit him.