The flames danced in Joás’ hands with an unnatural glow, reflecting off the hardened faces of the council leaders. Their gazes, usually cold and impenetrable, now flickered between awe and terror. The blue light cast elongated shadows on the cold walls of the room, warping them into spectral figures that seemed to writhe.

  The murmurs of disapproval had died out, smothered by uncertainty. No one dared to speak first. In the presence of those flames, and the wonder they provoked.

  Elira was the first to regain her voice, but her tone lacked its usual confidence. She was breathing heavily, and her fingers trembled as she adjusted her glasses.

  —“This… this can't be!”—she exclaimed, disbelief shining in her eyes. Her voice wavered between fascination and panic.—“That fire… it's not natural. No human being should be able to generate it, much less one so pure. But there it is! Not a single burn, not the slightest sign of pain or harm. Not even with our most advanced tools could we achieve such perfect combustion.”

  Magnar narrowed his eyes, his expression remained stiff, but his knuckles turned white as he gripped the table before him, as if needing to anchor himself to something tangible so as not to succumb to the abyss of the unknown.

  —“This is not possible…”—he murmured, his voice barely an echo in the frozen room. Then suddenly, he looked up with a feverish gleam in his pupils and let out a roar of disbelief.—“This defies logic itself!”

  The fire crackled in Joás’ hands, and in its blue glow danced the promise of something none of them were prepared to face.

  Maelis, the most impulsive and temperamental of the faction leaders, placed his hands on the iron table and leaned forward. His scarred face showed an unusual serenity, though his eyes were a mixture of calm and amazement.

  —“We can't afford to fear what we don't understand. If this flame and he are our solution, we must use it… But that doesn't mean we have to trust him!”

  He pointed at Joás with a sharp gesture, and instantly, his men moved with precision, surrounding the “specimen” with the intent to capture him alive—even if that meant injuring him.

  Then, a deep, grave voice, heavy with disbelief, broke the silence.

  —“A man who controls fire in this damned frozen hell…”—Marcus, the colony leader, murmured with a mix of fascination and suspicion. His hands held his face, as if it might fall off from the shock.—“Sounds like salvation… or a curse for us.”

  He looked up, his red eyes glowing between his fingers, and his tone turned rougher, more intimidating.

  —“But you still haven’t answered my question, Joás… What the hell are you?”

  Joás sighed, extinguishing the flames with a subtle movement. His expression remained calm, but a shadow of disappointment crept into his eyes.

  —“That question again?”—he replied with a crooked smile.—“I expected a reaction worthy of fairy tales, where people on the brink of ruin cry out with joy upon seeing their savior. But… I see that’s not the case.”

  He raised his gaze, defiant, and let his words sink into the room.

  —“As Luna already mentioned… I am Joás. And I am your damn hope.”

  Despite being surrounded by soldiers ready for battle, with the sole intention of capturing him alive—even if it meant injuring him or even breaking his bones—Joás remained still. His gaze, cold and threatening, swept over the guards slowly approaching, like predators stalking their prey. The atmosphere thickened with a frozen tension, a moment before erupting into violence. Joás and the soldiers were already prepared for the fight.

  But before conflict could break out, a firm voice shattered the silence.

  Luna stepped forward with determination, addressing the council and faction leaders with an unshakable stance. Her words rang with confidence and certainty:

  —“I know Joás is a mystery, and his existence could pose a danger to the colony… but we’re not in a position to reject our chances.”

  Without hesitation, she extended her hand and firmly grabbed Joás’ right arm, stopping him in his tracks. He looked at her, surprised by her unexpected action, but Luna didn’t waver. She turned to the council and continued her speech, her voice firm as a sentence.

  —“I assure you, as Luna Starfire, council member and leader of the Explorer Faction, that he will cooperate peacefully… No, better yet, I WILL MAKE HIM COOPERATE WITH US.”

  Her words spread through the room like an unrelenting echo. All present could only look at Luna, feeling the weight of her determination.

  A shout of anger thundered in the room.

  —“Are you insane!?”—Magnar roared, his voice booming with fury. He stood up with a bang, pointing an accusing finger at Joás.—“You think I’ll let you explorers keep him? No! I demand he be handed over to the Circle of the Wise. We must discover how he creates those flames and how we can use them for the colony's benefit.”

  His demand had barely finished echoing when it was interrupted with contempt.

  Elira, her face flushed with anger, slammed both hands on the table and glared at Magnar.

  —“Have the years made you stupid, you damned old man?”—she snapped with disdain.—“We don’t need studies or experiments, what we need is to use those flames right now. The colony’s heat core is on the verge of collapse! That’s why he must be taken to the engineer district immediately. There’s no time to waste!”

  The two leaders glared at each other with hostility, the argument becoming an open brawl. Their shouts echoed through the hall as each demanded possession of Joás, as if he were a mere object, a tool at their disposal.

  The dispute escalated quickly until both turned to Maelis.

  —“Maelis, take him now!”—they ordered in unison, each trying to assert dominance.

  But Maelis was not a man who obeyed orders blindly. His expression hardened and, with a clenched jaw, he fixed his gaze on them both. His voice, full of disdain, cut through the argument like a knife.

  —“And what difference does it make?”—he spat.—“If you both want him so badly, let both factions use him. It doesn’t matter where we take him, does it?”

  His words dropped like iron, heating and thickening the tension even more. A loud bang rang out as a desk was struck violently, silencing the quarreling faction leaders. It was Marcus, the mayor, who with a cold gaze observed them and decided to intervene.

  —“Luna… are you demanding we leave this person in the hands of the exploration group, just because you claim you’ll make him cooperate with the colony of his own free will?”—he said, emphasizing his point with an imposing voice.

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  With a calm that contrasted with the room’s tension, Luna answered with a simple affirmation.

  —“Yes, I am.”

  —“As you understand, Luna, each faction has a valid point, but, as mentioned before, it’s imperative we resolve the problem of our energy core, which gives us heat and allows us to survive in this frozen world. However, I fear that if any faction tries to test its solution, it might already be too late…”—with an authoritative voice, Marcus turned to Luna.—“Then, for us to let the explorers handle this man, I order you to find an immediate solution to our severe and urgent problem. Can you do it, Luna?”

  With her characteristic calm, Luna accepted the mayor’s order. She turned to those present and, with a firm, confident voice, spoke:

  —“I’ll make Joás fill the colony’s energy core right now—”

  Nodding at Luna’s statement, Marcus ordered Maelis to escort them to the room where the large energy reactor was located. Maelis accepted the order immediately and approached with a group of his best men. Meanwhile, Marcus addressed the other leaders:

  —“As you can see, a decision has been made. We’ll let the exploration group handle him and solve our current crisis. Elira, I want you to give Luna one of those chains the engineers use to hold the walkers during artifact experiments. The last thing we need is an unwanted incident.”

  Elira, upon receiving the order, had the chains brought and handed them to Luna. She, without hesitation, accepted the responsibility. But before she could act, Joás interrupted in a mocking, sarcastic tone.

  —“Chains and cuffs again, Luna? You’re making a mistake if you think I’m into sadomasochism,”—he said, offering himself up to be chained, as if it were a game.

  Luna, with a cold look and unmoved by Joás’ words, responded firmly:

  —“I don’t care what you’re into. These are for my comfort. I don’t want to walk beside you while holding my sword to your neck.”

  Joás looked at her with a playful smile.

  —“I think I’m starting to like how cold and cruel you are. What if I get addicted to this?”—he said, laughing sarcastically, enjoying the tension in the air.

  Finally, Joás was escorted to the energy reactor, accompanied by the leaders and Elian, who brought Eliot with him. The tension was still palpable, but for now, everything proceeded smoothly. Upon reaching the reactor, Luna removed Joás’ cuffs and instructed him to begin.

  Calmly, Joás approached the reactor. With his bare hands, he touched the hot surface of the cylinder. To everyone’s astonishment, a light shone from his hands, illuminating the room, as Joás began to recharge the reactor in a surprising way.

  Elira broke the silence, her voice brimming with awe and fascination.

  —“It’s incredible to watch him recharge the reactor like this, as if he were inflating a balloon. Just witnessing him generate fire with his hands is astounding enough, but now—seeing him touch that massive cylinder, completely unprotected—is something else entirely. A surface that would melt flesh on contact, and yet… nothing. This... this is something beyond explanation.”

  Joás, still focused on his task, let out a small chuckle as he joined the conversation.

  —“Glad someone’s enjoying the show,” he said casually. “Though the rest of you don’t look quite as impressed.”

  Then, glancing at Luna, he added:

  —“By the way, this is going to take longer than I expected. This machine’s a lot bigger than I imagined. So, before I’m done—could I ask you to take care of Eliot? I’d rather he wasn’t here.”

  Luna nodded and ordered Elian to escort the boy out of the reactor room and take him safely home. Obediently, Elian approached the child—who, sensing what was about to happen, began to resist.

  —“Joás! I don’t want to go! This place scares me!” Eliot cried, his voice trembling with fear as he looked toward Joás.

  Calmly, without removing his hands from the great cylinder, Joás responded with a reassuring smile.

  —“Don’t worry, Eliot. They’re taking you somewhere safe—someplace nice. I’ll see you again soon. And there, you’ll be able to keep building all those strange but brilliant inventions you love. Trust me, kid.”

  Eliot looked at him for a long moment. Then, with a hesitant nod and a last glance back, he finally allowed Elian to lead him away, disappearing from the room.

  But Luna’s decision to remove the child did not go unchallenged. Magnar’s gravelly voice cut through the air.

  —“Is it really safe to let that child go? What if he can wield fire too?” he asked, his question drawing wary glances from the other council leaders.

  Still watching Joás closely, Luna answered firmly:

  —“Don’t worry, Lord Magnar. The child doesn’t have that power. Besides, Joás’ cooperation is essential. And in case you haven’t noticed, Eliot is quite... unique. He’s already built some fascinating things. For example, he created a lamp that repels the walkers.”

  At this, Elira’s interest ignited instantly.

  —“A lamp? I’d like to see it—and speak with the boy about it,” she said, her curiosity undeniable.

  Luna nodded calmly.

  —“Once we’re finished here, I’ll show it to you. And you can speak with Eliot then.”

  A full day passed before Joás finally completed the task. With a mocking smile and a tone laced in sarcasm, he turned to the others.

  —“Well… I thought this would never end. But it’s done now. So, how about a nice, comfortable room with a big bed?”

  No sooner had the words left his mouth than he collapsed, dropping like a stone. Drained of every ounce of energy, he fell unconscious without warning.

  A heavy silence settled in the room as all eyes turned to Joás’ motionless body. No one dared move until Marcus, ever the figure of command, finally broke the tension.

  —“Well, that settles who’s responsible for him,” he declared, his gaze sweeping across the room.

  —“Maelis, take him to the holding cells on the lower level—in the exploration group’s quarters. Luna, you’ll be in charge of him. As for the rest of you…”

  His eyes moved from face to face, pressing a sense of authority on every soul present.

  —“…if you wish to make any decisions regarding this man, it must go to a vote. There will be no impulsive choices.”

  He paused briefly, letting the weight of his words sink in. Then, in a deeper, graver tone, he continued:

  —“We also need to know more about him. Maelis, Magnar—I want you to extract every bit of information you can. Question him thoroughly. I don’t want any surprises.”

  Then his gaze shifted to Elira, who appeared visibly taken aback.

  —“Elira… since you’ll be speaking with the boy, I want you to question him as well. Ask him everything he knows about this man—his story, his origins, everything.”

  Elira frowned, disbelief etched into her expression. Raising an eyebrow, she looked at Marcus.

  —“You seriously want me to interrogate a child?” she asked, her voice laced with a blend of surprise and disdain.

  Marcus didn’t flinch. His stare was cold and resolute.

  —“Yes. That’s exactly what I want. Any objections?”

  For a moment, Elira hesitated. But as she met the unyielding fire in the mayor’s eyes, she finally nodded, her tone clipped and dry.

  —“No. If that’s your order, I’ll do it,” she replied—her words tinged with irony, knowing full well there was no point in protest.

  Marcus turned his back to them all. As he walked toward the door, his final command rang out like a closing verdict.

  —“Good. You know what to do. Get to it.”

  Joás awoke to absolute darkness. A freezing cold clung to him like a second skin; even the air seemed sharp, biting with every breath as if his lungs were burning from the inside out. His prison—a damp, desolate cell—reeked of abandonment. The walls were slick with ice, droplets of water trickling down like the place itself was alive, feeding off misery.

  He lay on a battered cot, the mattress stained and torn, offering barely any comfort. Beside it, an iron bucket sat in the corner—rusted and empty—his only toilet.

  His eyes scanned the grim surroundings, filled with disdain and rising frustration. With a low, guttural growl, he muttered:

  —“What the hell is this? Did they really have to throw me into such a wretched hole? Bastards…”

  His voice dripped with contempt as his gaze lingered on the shadows, the silence, and the freezing gloom of the cell.