After taking so much of my power, the demon is solid now, close to flesh, close enough for magic to take hold and bind it.
A jolt of triumph hits me hard enough to nearly knock me from the air.
More magic flares, roots explode upward, and I spot Titus down below dropping to one knee, his hand pressed to the earth, plants answering his call despite the scorch and corruption. Vines and thorns lash around the demon, anchoring it in place, dragging it fully back into the open.
Ensley stumbles into the clearing last, battered and pale, but defiant. Faelight blooms in her hands, brilliant, blazing orbs that streak forward and slam into the demon’s black mist, forcing it to solidify, stripping away the monster’s last chance to slip free.
The demon screams, panic replacing fury now.
With a flap of my wings, I rise higher, fire roaring brighter, hotter, answering the certainty settling into my bones.
Now I end it.
With the blood moon as a backdrop behind me, I spread my wings wide, letting the full force of my magic surge. My fire gathers, hotter and brighter until it burns white-gold. Holding myself steady in the air, I unleash it in a wild blast, a concentrated lance of phoenix flame aimed straight at the demon’s bound form below.
The fire slams into it and tears through shadow and flesh alike, burning deeper with every heartbeat as the demon thrashes against the magic holding it in place. Its scream fractures, cutting off as my flames sear through the heart of it, unraveling whatever keeps it whole.
The demon evaporates into nothing, and the ground beneath it glows as if the earth itself is being scorched clean.
When the fire finally dies, there is nothing left of the demon.
No body.
No shadow.
No echo.
Only ash drifting down over scorched earth where it once stood.
Relief floods me, but it’s short-lived when I catch the figures below me, all running toward something—a lone figure lying prone on the ground below, unmoving.
Becks.
He’s not in his dragon form anymore and looks especially vulnerable covered in cuts and blood.
I streak toward the forest floor, drawing my fire and magic back into myself. The moment my talons hit the ground, I shift into my human form, the knowledge of how to do it settling instinctively into my bones.
The others are already there. I shove past Titus and Imogen to reach him. Ensley is helping her brother sit up.
He glances up at me and gives me a crooked smile. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
A sob forms in my throat that I can’t hold in. I drop to my knees, wanting to grab him, to hug him to assure myself he’s real, but there doesn’t look like any part of him that isn’t injured.
One of his arms is clearly broken; there’s a gash on his chest where the demon slashed him, as well as cuts and scratches on his shoulders and arms from trying to free himself from the demon’s dark magic.
“I love you,” I say through sobs, and Becks’ gaze softens.
“I know.” And then heedless of his injuries, he reaches out and hauls me forward, kissing me despite the fact that we’re both covered in dirt, ash, and blood.
It’s not the most romantic kiss we’ve ever had, or even close to the most passionate, but it’s the most real.
Grounding.
Born from the need to assure each other that we walked through hell but made it out alive.
When we break apart, Ensley and the others are grinning down at us, looking a little worse for wear themselves.
“That was amazing,” Ensley says, and I bunch my brow, thinking she’s talking about my kiss with Becks. Which is a little weird, because she’s his sister.
