"Leroy?" Ariel croaked, her voice barely audible amidst the swirling haze. Her vision, already compromised by the blinding smoke, now blurred even further. "Leroy?" she called again, her outstretched hand meeting only empty air.

"Leroy..." Her voice grew weaker with each attempt, choked by the smoke filling her lungs. Panic began to seep into her mind. Where was he? Was she alone? The thought of the monk lying unconscious on the floor struck her with sudden dread.

"Oh no, Leroy..." Ariel rasped, dropping to her knees in a desperate attempt to find him through the darkness. Her hand skated over the hard wood floor, but it encountered nothing that resembled Leroy. Her heart pounded with frantic intensity. It seemed he must have been separated from her.

He's probably looking for me now. I need to move from here...

Even with her shirt covering her nose, breathing was becoming increasingly difficult. Ariel was growing weary, her breaths shallow and labored. She coughed violently, her throat burning with each harsh expulsion. Why can’t I catch my breath? I thought it was easier to breathe near the ground...or was it standing up...or... Her thoughts were becoming muddled, her head clouded with confusion. A heavy realization settled over her: she was not going to find her way out of this alone.

Summoning the last of her strength, Ariel pushed herself up from the floor. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her throat as parched as dry ash. She clung to the image of an old man, her desperate plea echoing in her mind. Mr. Marlowe, I need your help...please help me...

With all the energy she could muster, Ariel called out to the spirit of the man who had guided her here, hoping he would find her, save her. She opened her eyes to see a tall, dark shape looming closer. Relief surged through her.

"Ariel—" a voice spoke just as she breathed his name. "Mr. Marlowe—"

A firm, warm hand seized Ariel's wrist, and the shadowy figure came into sharper focus. "Mr. Marlowe?" she repeated, her voice trembling.

Ariel's eyes widened. Though she couldn't clearly see his face, her ears recognized the voice—it did not belong to a ghostly theater owner. A single thought pierced through the fog of her mind with crystal clarity. No.

"Jasper," she nearly gasped, her free hand clenching at her eyes, which burned fiercely from her wide-eyed surprise. A series of shuddering coughs followed, causing her boss's grip to tighten around her.

Without a word, Jasper pulled her into his arms, her shirt collar slipping from her nose and burying her face against his chest. The scent of coffee briefly masked the oppressive smoke. Ariel barely had time to register how close she was to her boss before the ground seemed to give way beneath her. The fleeting comfort of Jasper’s embrace vanished as he carried her down the hall at a brisk pace.

Ariel blinked rapidly, her vision clearing faster than she had anticipated. The wooden walls of the theater sped past, a gentle breeze rustling her disheveled hair. With her legs draped over one arm and her body supported by his other, Ariel's face hovered uncomfortably close to Jasper’s. She swallowed hard and stared determinedly down the hall, fighting the urge to study his impassive features.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Thoughts bombarded her like a storm. Questions and feelings surged within her. Fire! She had yet to see the red-hot flames she had imagined consuming the theater. She resisted dwelling on the searing heat, savoring the coolness that surrounded her.

Leroy! The thought made her grip Jasper’s shoulder tighter. Ariel closed her mouth and forced down a painful swallow, her expression one of alarm. "Leroy," she whispered, her voice strained and barely audible.

Jasper's dark eyes flicked to her briefly. "He's fine."

"We left him," Ariel protested, her voice cracking as she tried to raise it.

Jasper kept his gaze straight ahead, resolute. "He's fine," he repeated, his tone unyielding.

Ariel opened her mouth in confusion but quickly closed it as the air around her tasted of ash. Mr. Marlowe! The thought streaked through her mind like a ribbon of black smoke, seemingly caught by Jasper, who seemed to sense her distress. Her nearly restored vision revealed questions lingering on his lips. Yet, another pair of lips, ghostly and silent, appeared in her mind's eye, a single pleading finger pressed against them. Ariel pursed her own lips firmly, just as Jasper’s parted.

"Ariel, when I reached you—"

A violent coughing fit seized her, some of it involuntary. Ariel’s chest ached from the strain, but the secret she intended to keep was successfully concealed as Jasper's words were cut off.

Moments later, Jasper unceremoniously set her down. The sudden jolt from the lightness of his arms to the heavy, solid floor was jarring. Disoriented and unsure why she had been so abruptly released, Ariel blinked up at Jasper, her eyes stinging anew.

Standing tall and imposing, Jasper’s earlier comforting scent of coffee was quickly being overpowered by the encroaching smoke. A fresh burning sensation gripped Ariel’s throat. Her hand moved instinctively to her neck, but before she could speak, Jasper strode past her. Ariel blinked and followed, her hand aiding her eyes as she rubbed away the burn.

Light, blinding and white, poured into her vision. Ariel’s hand fell away as she squinted into the warmth. The sun’s rays were a welcome contrast to the imagined flames engulfing the theater.

"Are you coming?"

Jasper had paused just outside the theater’s double doors, casting a shadow in the bright light. Ariel nodded, a wave of relief washing over her. Jasper had rescued her.

As she emerged into the chaos of the Magnolia Midlands, Ariel barely had time to breathe before Mr. Warner approached, concern etched across his dark features.

"Finally! Are you alright?" he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

"Ariel!" a second voice called out, and the playwright barely had time to step aside before Leroy pushed past him. A moment later, Ariel was pulled into a tight, smoky embrace.

"Leroy," Ariel rasped, looking up at the monk who gripped her shoulders with relief. "What happened? I was so worried—"

"I am terribly shocked by all this," Mr. Warner cut in, raising his voice as if addressing a crowd.

Ariel blinked and peered past Leroy to see that half of Magnolia Midlands had gathered outside the theater. "But I assure you, there is no fire—so you all may move along."

"No fire?" Ariel repeated, glancing back at the building she had just escaped from. "But the smoke..."

Leroy's lips were set in a firm line; he absently rubbed his shoulder and then tilted his head towards Mr. Warner. Ariel's gaze shifted from the monk’s discontented face to the playwright’s flustered one. A frown of confusion spread across her face.

"Mr. Warner set the theater on fire?" she whispered disbelievingly, her words coming out as a wheeze.

Leroy looked at her with a firmer expression, subtly jerking his head once more. Ariel blinked uncertainly and glanced back at the playwright, who was now surrounded by a curious crowd. Her attention was drawn to his entourage.

"But there is a fire—a fire in their souls!"