His arms went slack.
He swayed once, like a tree whose roots had finally given out. Then he folded to the ground.
Collapsed.
Gone.
The world shattered. My heart shattered.
My knees hit the dirt with a sound I didn’t hear.
My shadows erupted—screaming, shrieking, tearing through Sentinels like something feral and grieving.
I heard the crunch of bone. The snap of magic. The world coming apart.
But I couldn’t see it.
All I saw was him.
Finn.
On the ground.
Not moving, not breathing.
My hands shook as I crawled to him. My fingers curled into his shirt—he was still warm. But the warmth was already fading.
No no no no—please—gods, no—
My hands shook as I reached for him.
“Finn?...” I choked. “Please - no…Finn....”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t move.
He was dead.
He was dead.
Black spots obscured my vision.I felt very far away.
Across from me, Vasquez stepped forward, sword still slick with blood, a sneer carved into his face like something eternal.
As he walked, he toed aside a fallen body with casual disdain—like it was nothing more than trash in his path. Then, without breaking stride, he wiped the blade clean on his coat.
I didn’t flinch. I just held Finn.
The world around us—noise, pain, purpose—was gone.
It was like the colour had bled from everything.
“It’s over,” Vasquez said, voice thick with mockery. “You’ve lost. Time to go, dear.”
I was hollow.
Empty.
The boy I grew up with, the only thing I’d ever had, was gone. My hands pressed to his chest like I could hold him here—but there was no heartbeat.
