I was going to combust.
“I need—I need somewhere to release it,” I rasped, my voice raw. “If I hold it in any longer, it’ll burn me from the inside out.”
“Straight past two huts, take a left, then run the last half mile.”
Lakota veered in that direction, his wings cutting through the wind. I bolted after him.
Villagers scrambled out of my way as I tore through the streets, heat rolling off me in waves. Sparks flared from my boots, sizzling against the ground with every step. But I didn’t slow down.
Lakota perched on a cliff above, waiting. He’d led me to a secluded hollow in the rock face—an empty pocket surrounded by stone, far from the village, from the huts, from anything flammable.
I barely made it inside before my knees hit the ground.
And then Iscreamed.
Flames exploded outward in a violent surge, crashing against the stone walls in all directions.
The release of my fire element drained the pressure from my chest, and I greedily sucked in a breath, my lungs finally unchained. Sitting back on my heels, I took in the aftermath—the blackened stone, the deep soot stains. Scars. Just like mine.
“Feel better?” Lakota twisted his head in a smooth, serpentine motion.
I let out a hollow laugh. “I don’t think I’ll ever feel better.”
Lakota’s gaze flicked past me. “The Wylder boy arrives.”
The second he said it, I heard the rhythmic beat of another pair of wings overhead and the crunch of boots on gravel behind me.
I glancedover my shoulder.
Rhodes leaned casually against a soot-darkened stone wall, arms crossed, one ankle resting over the other. But he wasn’t acknowledging the destruction I’d caused. There was no judgment in his gaze, no hint of repulsion.
He was only looking atme.
His calm, steady eyes held a quiet softness, a kind of understanding that sank beneath my skin. He saw me—past the fire, past the wreckage, past the weight I couldn’t seem to shake. But there was something else lingering in his expression, something I couldn’t decipher.
I rose from the ground.
“What’s next?” Rhodes asked.
A slow, sharp smile tugged at my lips. Anger and retribution burned in my chest, fueling every ounce of my resolve.
“On to the next one who abandoned me.”
The afternoon breeze lifted the loose tendrils of hair around my face. I reached through themarekem, tracing the last place Fallon had seen him. The process felt eerily similar to my bond with Lakota—a tether, a pull.
The rush of magic was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. But it led me straight to him.
Ourfather.
Guards lined the steps to the entrance while clusters of military men conversed in the open space ahead. We ascended the steps, my eyes locked on the door. A guard moved to block ourpath but hesitated the moment I flashed my crimson gaze. He quickly stepped aside.
Rhodes scoffed, his arrogance practically radiating off him, and I couldn’t help but smirk.
The inaudible murmur of scattered conversations died the second we stepped through the wooden doors. Heads turned. Eyebrows rose.
I scanned the room. It was circular, like the huts, but much larger. A heavy table dominated the center, while one side of the space was lined with cabinets, the other with a personal armory. Blades, bows, and axes gleamed under the dim torchlight.
The crowd parted, revealing a man at the center, authority radiating from every inch of his stance. His stern expression dropped the moment his eyes locked on mine. A rush of recognition came from Lakota, as if a piece of his memory had just been unlocked.
