But no longer soft. They burned. With devastation. With heartbreak.
I’m sorry…
I didn’t say it aloud.
We ran. And this time—I didn’t look back.
**
Phoenix
The pain was bad. And I couldn’t heal myself. My power was spent. So, I started to crawl.
I was going to save her. Or die trying.
The world was fire and blood and smoke.
I don’t remember hitting the ground. Just the way Elira screamed my name before everything went black.
Now—every step was agony. My body dragged itself forward on instinct more than will. My vision swam. My ribs were broken. Something deeper, too. Maybe more than one thing. But I didn’t care.
I had to find her.
Elira.
I kept moving.
The battlefield behind me had fractured—Leo and Slade lost in the fray, Thorne still fighting Vael. Shadows and flame clashed above like gods were warring in the sky. I didn’t have the strength to add to it.
But I had enough to crawl. To bleed. To burn my way through.
Smoke choked the alleys. Crumbling stone made every step a minefield. I staggered against a wall, my hand leaving a dark smear on the bricks.
I didn’t know where Finn had taken her. Only that she was gone.
And I could still feel her.
That thread between us hadn’t snapped.
Yet.
“Elira,” I whispered, and pushed forward.
There was no path. Just firelight and ruin. My magic was nearly gone. I’d poured it all into her—to heal, to help. I’d given her everything.
And I’d do it again.
Something flickered ahead. A shout. Steel against stone.
I moved faster—gods, it hurt—pushing through a shattered archway and into another alley. My knees nearly buckled. My shoulder slammed into a wall just to keep myself standing.
Then I saw them.
Two figures, running.
One was a man I didn’t recognise. He was tall, with midnight black skin. The other I did know.
Elira!
