Vael hit the ground hard, the vine still constricting, thorns sinking into his pale throat. He snarled, one hand clawing at the magic, the other flickering with static as he tried to tear free.
Maddie stood her ground, both hands raised, sweat glistening at her temples as she poured every drop of power she had into holding him down.
“Elira,” she gasped without looking back, “can you move?”
I tried. My body trembled. My lungs wheezed with every breath, but I pushed one elbow beneath me, then the other.
“I’m trying,” I croaked.
Then—footsteps.
Not panicked. Not rushing. Measured. Heavy. Cold. A shadow moved through the smoke.
And then he appeared.
Thorne.
He stepped through the broken wall like a phantom from the storm—cloak torn, face smeared with blood and ash, his expression carved from stone.
His eyes locked on Vael.
Then on me.
“I’m here.” He said, his voice calm. Certain. “I’ve got you, Elira.”
I’ve got you.
Something inside me stilled.
Just for a moment, the world paused— the screaming, the smoke, even the fire in my lungs faded like an echo behind glass.
There was only him.
And the words I didn’t know I needed until I heard them.
Without a word, he reached to his side, drew the twin obsidian blades from his belt, and walked toward Vael like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment.
Vael, still pinned, looked up—face twisted with hatred and… recognition.
“Ah,” he hissed, voice raw. “The good dog returns. Tell me, Thorne, how does it feel being my brother’s resident bitch?”
Thorne didn’t answer. He didn’t flinch. He moved like silence given form—slow and deliberate.
Maddie’s arms trembled. “I can’t hold him much longer—”
“You won’t need to,” Thorne said flatly. He surged forward, blades flashing. “Get out of here, both of you!”
Vael exploded. A pulse of lightning burst outward in all directions—blinding white light that flared through the alley, forcing Maddie to stumble back and sending me sprawling again.
When my vision cleared, Vael was standing.
The vine hung in pieces, smoking where it had burned away. His chest heaved. His hands sparked with fresh bolts of electricity.
“Enough games,” he growled. “You all think you’re strong. But none of you understand what real power is.”
Thorne raised both blades, stance tight and ready. His voice was calm. Controlled.
“Then show me.”
