I’m moving. Not falling, not flying, just moving through space as if the explosion’s concussive force has become a current I’m riding. The cocoon carries me, turning what should be violent into something almost smooth.
I catch glimpses through the golden haze: twisted rotor blades, seats ripped from their moorings, trees blackened and burning.
Then cold hits.
The transition is instant, jarring. One moment I’m suspended in molten gold, the next I’m in snow. Actual snow, soft and yielding, cushioning impact that I barely feel. The cocoon lifts me, pulls me through the inferno like I weigh nothing.
The light releases me.
It doesn’t fade gradually—just stops, withdrawing as suddenly as it appeared. One second, I’m wrapped in living fire, then suddenly, I’m lying in a snowbank, staring up at pine branches silhouetted against gray sky.
Steam rises around me. I’m lying on wet earth and slush, watching black smoke pour into the sky, visible for miles.
My body should be destroyed. Crushed chest, broken arm, internal bleeding, burns covering every inch of exposed skin.
But my chest only aches now—a distant, manageable pain. Something impossible just happened. Something that defies every natural law I know. And some unnatural ones too.
My head is reeling. Lights flickering on the edges of my vision.
“What…?” I swallow, trying to work moisture back into my throat. The word is almost inaudible, spoken to no one, to the universe maybe. “What happened…?”
A shadow blots out the light. Dark, looming.
“Shhh…” a voice says, deep and resonant. “You are safe.”
Safe?
I’m safe.
Holy shit!
It’s my last thought before darkness claims me.
Chapter 3
Mara
Something’s wrong with time. My consciousness flickers like bad Wi-Fi: connection, darkness, connection again. I’m floating, then sinking, then surfacing through layers of thick, cottony nothing. My thoughts refuse to line up in the right order.
Fire. Impact. Screaming metal.
No. That was before.
Before what?
I pry my eyes open, immediately regretting it when light stabs my retinas. Not harsh hospital fluorescents but something that dances and shifts, painting uneven shadows across… stone?
Am I in a cave?
I try to swallow, but my mouth feels stuffed with cotton. My limbs won’t cooperate. Everything hurts and doesn’t hurt simultaneously, like my body can’t decide which signals to send.
A figure moves at the edge of my vision. Tall. Male. Unfamiliar.
Fear jolts through me, sharp enough to cut through the fog. Not Luke. Not anyone I know.
“Where—?” My voice scrapes out, rough and rasping. I try again. “Where am I?”
The figure turns, and firelight catches his profile—strong jaw, straight nose, eyes that seem to reflect the flames. He approaches silently, kneeling beside whatever I’m lying on. Thank God, because when he’s standing, it’s like looking up at a redwood.
