Thorne didn’t look away. He didn’t flinch. But slowly—so slowly—he lowered her to the ground. Every motion tender. Reverent.
“Touch her again,” Slade said, low and cold, “and die.”
“I would never hurt her,” Thorne said hoarsely.
“You already did,” Slade snapped—and shoved him.
Thorne hit the dirt hard, chest heaving. But he didn’t rise.
Slade dropped to his knees beside Elira, gathering her close. His hands trembled. His jaw clenched.
“No!” Maddie’s voice tore through the chaos as she broke free from Lacey’s grasp. “Slade, stop!”
Slade was rising again, stalking toward Thorne, eyes lit with fury.
“Mads!” Leo called, alarmed. “What are you—”
But she was already moving.
She threw herself between them, hands up, breath ragged.
“Stop.” Her voice cracked like a whip. “Leave him alone.”
Slade froze, chest heaving.
“He saved her,” Maddie said fiercely. “She would’ve died, and he saved her. So back the hell off. Now.”
“It’s okay, Maddie. I deserve this.” Thorne’s voice was quiet, broken. He sat slumped on the ground, blood on his hands, shadows coiling faintly at his back.
“No. You don’t.” She rounded on him, eyes blazing. “You deserve to have your ass kicked into next week—but you don’t deserve to die. Not now.”
Then she looked up at me. “Phoenix. Look.”
She pointed.
A dark ring curled around Thorne’s upper arm—like shadow woven into skin, pulsing faintly.
“Kharith chose him,” Maddie said. “She marked him as Elira’s sworn guardian. So please—don’t kill him.”
“Kharith?” I asked, uncertain. “Who the hell is Kharith?”
A voice—shaky, raw—rose from the ground behind us.
“My dragon.”
We turned.
Elira stood, a ragged robe drawn around her shoulders, her bare feet streaked with blood and ash. Her body trembled—but her voice held. Her eyes burned like dying stars.
She walked through the stunned silence, past Leo, past Slade, past all of us—straight to Thorne.
And knelt.
Wordless, she placed a hand to his forehead, brushing his sweat-soaked hair back. Her fingers trembled. So did his.
Then she reached up—without looking—and took Slade’s hand in hers.
He didn’t resist. He stepped forward, behind her, silent. Steady. A shield at her back, even now.
