I make a few useless attempts to throw my elbows back, hoping to land at least one good hit before this is over. But he's too big and strong, and I'm completely pinned.

Raith's grip tightens incrementally, his legs splayed over my hips as he bends low over me, gradually restricting my airflow. The pressure against my throat builds until swallowing becomes a conscious effort, painful and strained.

"Fuck... you..." I gasp, each syllable a struggle as spots dance in my vision. I even manage something I hope looks like a smile, just to piss him off.

My lungs burn for air that won't come. Panic rises, sharp and primal, as my body recognizes the danger before my mind can process it.

"That's enough!" Bastian shouts again, his voice edged with genuine alarm now. I can hear him speaking hotly to the instructor, their words blurring together as my consciousness begins to fray at the edges.

"Yield," Raith says against my ear, more quietly this time, and with a touch of urgency I wouldn't have expected from him. "Just yield." The last comes in a strained whisper.

And that's when it happens.

The strange warmth that's been building intensifies where our skin touches, like liquid fire seeping through my pores. It builds in my chest—a pressure that makes my ribs feel too small to contain it—then races through my veins, setting every nerve ending ablaze. My teeth ache with it, muscles spasming involuntarily as the energy surges through pathways I never knew existed in my body.

His body stiffens against mine. He feels it too.

At the same time, the instructors turn, locked in a heated argument with Bastian that's drawing more attention than our stalemate on the mat. No one is watching us closely anymore, their focus pulled to the more dramatic confrontation since I’m clearly outmatched.

"What are you—" Raith begins, voice tight with something between suspicion and disbelief.

The energy concentrates in my hands, drawn there by instinct rather than conscious thought. Tiny flames erupt from my skin, snaking around my body in intricate patterns and scorching Raith’s clothing with ethereal tongues of orange and gold.

His element, not mine.

I feel heat in my eyes and my mouth, gathering and threatening to rush out of me like a volcanic eruption I can't contain.

Raith recoils as if struck, his hold loosening instantly. His expression flashes from shock to something I never expected—pure, primal fear mixed with... recognition? In an instant, it's gone, replaced by his usual mask of control. But I saw it. For one unguarded moment, the mighty Raith Hollow looked terrified.

Is he afraid of fire? No, that can't be right. He's a fire affinity himself.

Then what?