The air feels colder now, so cold it seeps into my bones. The smoke intensifies, dark tendrils curling around Amara’s form, suffocating the air, and the ink beneath her pools deeper.
And yet, still, Amara fights. She must.
“One more push, Amara,” Solena says, her voice low but firm. “You’re almost there. I can see the head.”
Amara’s body jerks violently, and I can feel her pulse quicken beneath my hand. My heart races in response, and I hold my breath, waiting for the moment I know is coming, the moment when the dark, energy around us finally breaks.
Another scream tears from her throat. Amara gives a final push. Her body convulses, and for a moment, everything stops. The waves, the thunder, the smoke. The world holds its breath.
And then, with the sound of a small, fragile cry, I hear it. The baby.
Tears fill my eyes before I even realize it, but I can’t stop them. Not as Solena lifts the baby from Amara’s trembling body.
“Amara,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. “Look. Look at our baby.”
But when I look down at her, she is silent. Still. Her eyes closed.
“Amara…”
A hush falls over the ship. Reon and Orios bow their heads, stepping back, turning away while Zyphoro moves closer, still holding Amara’s other hand. Her eyes are fixed on me, a sheen of sadness glistening in them. But I refuse to acknowledge their pity.
“Amara,” I say again, my voice trembling as I stroke her hand, unwilling to accept the way her skin has cooled, how her fingers hang limp in mine.
“Brother,” Zyphoro says softly. “You must tend to your child. Let us take care of this.”
“Take care of what?” I snap, my canines lengthening, fury surging through me like the storm itself. “There’s nothing to take care of,” I growl.
Zyphoro dips her chin in submission. “As you wish, Daedalus.”
“No,” Solena interjects with urgency, her voice tight, the child still squirming in her arms. “Look. She breathes.”
I turn back to Amara’s body. I see it. Just the faintest rise and fall of her chest. Barely there, but it’s enough.
“Amara,” I plead, my voice cracking, my chest tight with desperation. “Wife. Hold on. Please.”
Time stretches around us. Seconds feel like hours, each one heavier than the last, the silence unbearable as we wait for her to return to us. To me. To our child. My chin dips toward my chest, my shoulders shaking with the weight of my pain. I grip her hand tighter, feeling the warmth slip away, feeling her fade.
This is the doom of Amara Tyne. A fate I could have saved her from. A bargain she could not escape.
But then, her finger moves.
At first, I think I imagined it. Perhaps I wanted it so badly that I thought I saw something. But then it happens again. Her index finger twitches, then her thumb. I feel warmth rushing back, her blood pumping, her pulse strengthening. A smile breaks through the despair, relief flooding me like a rushing tide.
“Wait,” Zyphoro whispers, her voice a mix of awe and confusion. “She’s getting so hot.” She pulls her hand away from Amara’s, her eyes wide in wonder. “Is that… fire?”
I blink away the haze of joy, still too overwhelmed by her return to notice the green flames rolling across Amara’s skin.
“Yes, it’s fire,” a voice says from behind us.
I spin, my eyes narrowing, and catch sight of the Golden Son sitting casually on the deck. His legs are bent, hands resting on his knees, his bare chest bruised and battered. He may not wear his mask, but I would know his scent anywhere, and its stench makes my blood boil.
Rage surges through me, threatening to consume every last ounce of control I have. I want to tear him apart. But then, he nods toward Amara’s still form as the green fire grows taller, hotter, until it consumes her entirely.
“I would move if I were you,” he says, his tone almost bored. Without waiting for a response, he scrambles across the deck and leaps overboard.
A splash echoes, the sound of his body hitting the water, and we exchange looks of confusion. But as the fire intensifies, Reon and Orios inch closer to the railing, and Zyphoro clambers to her feet. They share a final glance before their wings burst forth. Reon, Orios, and Zyphoro soar upward, vanishing into the sky.
I glance at Solena just as the snap of her wings pierces the air. She holds my child tight against her chest before she too, takes flight. I’m reminded bitterly that I cannot follow them.
