I scream his name, but the wind screams louder, swallowing the sound of it whole.
Ziek lifts into the air, trapped in the Siphon’s grip. My throat closes as the color drains from his face. His body withers before my eyes, collapsing in on itself, skin shrinking tight againstbone, armour sagging as if it no longer remembers the shape of a man.
There is nothing left to save. Even if I reached him—if I poured every breath I had into his lungs—there is not enough of him left to return. His skin and bones look fragile, as though a single breath of wind could scatter him into nothing.
Kalia’s face forces its way into my thoughts—her eyes red and streaming, a child now growing up without a father. Because of me. The ache settles deep in my chest, crushing, but it doesn’t end there.
Almost at once, Charlie’s tendrils lash out again. They coil around Ryder. Around River. Around Nala. Just like they did with Ziek. Life drains from them in silence. Then from Ziek’s men. From the students. From everyone close enough to reach.
One by one.
Until I am the only one left standing on the ground.
Me and the Siphon.
Watching my friends die.
“Stop!” I scream, jagged and raw. “Let them go!”
Something inside mesnaps.
It isn’t thought.
It isn’t strategy.
It’s rage—hot, blinding, immediate.
We’ve already lost.
I’ll be damned if he thinks I’m going to make this easy on him.
Ziek’s body hits the ground with a sound I’ll hear for the rest of my life, and the world narrows to the thing that did this. The Siphon. Thatmonster. Charlie.
It took Ziek. It tookeverythingfrom him, and now it’s taking my friends. Ryder. My father.
In that moment, all I can think about is making it hurt the way it’s hurt us. The way it’s hurtme.
I don’t breathe. I don’t plan.
Iunleash.
Power rips out of my chest in a violent surge, flooding my veins, my bones, my hands. Light explodes from me—amethyst and gold tearing through the creature like a star going supernova. The ground fractures outward in a massive ring, its distorted body forced back by the sheer impact of it. The Siphon shrieks as the blast slams into its core, shadow peeling away in burning sheets.
Bodies drop to the floor. Some alive. Some unmoving.
“Scream,” I snarl, voice tearing itself raw. “Suffer as they did.”
The creature recoils, limbs flailing, its form distorting under the weight of my fury. For one terrible, beautiful second, I think I’ve done it. I think I’ve hurt it.
Then it laughs again.
The sound crawls under my skin.
“Yes…” It croons, voice thick with hunger. “That’s it. Give me more.”
Cold terror punches through my rage.
Its tendrils whip toward me—not striking, not attacking—connecting. They slam into my chest, my arms, my throat, sinking beneath my skin like hooks.
