“What’s wrong?” he demands as his hands come back to mine, gripping tight like he can pull the answer out of me. “Lyra—what’s wrong?”
“I.... I don't know, I can’t feel my legs....”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Panic hits hard and low, a pounding beat kicks up behind my ribs. I try to move again, but nothing, my legs might as well be nailed to the ground.
“Are you in pain? Can you breathe okay?” Bren’s words stumble out like he can outrun whatever this is. His hands are around mine, hot and shaking.
The wind shifts up the hill, curling cold fingers around my neck—night air, sharp and biting—dragging the stench of burning wood and something worse.
But I need to think. One thing at a time. I try to pull a deep breath, it catches, but it holds.
“Breathing’s fine. No pain.” I say. “But Bren—something’s not right.” Because underneath the numb, there’s pressure. Threads pressing low and tight, climbing up through my calves like they’re being cinched in a vice.
“Lyra!” Ezzy hits the ridge hard. Ash streaks her face, bits of blonde hair plastered to her temples, boots scraping stone as she comes forward, fast, eyes flicking over me. “Oh, thank the stars, I heard you were stuck, I thought—” Her voice cuts out as she turns, and sees Ashvale in full. “It’s... It’s gone. Half, more thanhalf the town just...” Ezzy’s hands twitch uselessly at her sides, fingers curling, uncurling. “Shit, Rowan and Finn are still down there, dragging people out, I don’t, I don’t even know how many are still stuck.”
For a second, I forget the numbness in my legs. They’re Innerland-born; they weren’t trained to help people like us. But they stayed anyway. A flicker of warmth rises high in my chest, tight and unexpected but it doesn’t last long.
In front of me, Ezzy keeps staring out, sweeping the horizon like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. Hell. I can’t believe it either.
“Dragons,” she says, almost shaking. “Finn swore it was three, but I swear I saw a fourth. And the people, I didn’t see them, but Rowan’s convinced. Said there were people pulling survivors back into the smoke.” Her voice pitches, fast and thin. “Said their eyes were black. Just… black, hollow. I think...” She shakes her head. “It had to be the smoke. Or Citadel officers. He just, he just got confused.”
That doesn’t make sense. None of it does. My head’s too heavy, too slow to keep up, but to my side, something shifts. Talen. I hadn’t even realised he had come back with her. His Citadel whites are stained with soot and blood, collar half-torn. His eyes snap to mine and hold. For a second, a memory flickers—smoke, heat, a hand pulling me up—was he there?
Ezzy drags in a long breath. My gaze pulls toward the sound of it—her hands are trembling, useless at her sides. Finally, she looks at me. It only takes a heartbeat. Her face drains when she sees the way Bren’s holding me tight. “What’s wrong?”
“She can’t feel her legs,” Bren answers for me, voice cracking.
Dropping into a crouch beside me, she starts scanning head to toe, words spilling too fast. “Is it the fire? Did something fall on you? Smoke, was it the smoke?”
Beside me, Talen shifts, just one step closer. His hands are clenched, jaw tight. That same unreadable face, but something’s cracking behind it.
“No,” I shake my head. “No, I don't think so, I inhaled a lot of smoke, but… come to think of it, they’ve been weird all day. Started with tingles, I thought it was just nerves, pins and needles, but then, after I tried to help Rhia—” God, I can’t even say their names, the pain’s too raw. “When I tried to helpthem, my legs just gave out. I couldn’t get up. I was stuck. I thought it was panic, but… something’s different, wrong.”
Ezzy leans in, hair falling into her face, eyes wide and jittery. “Okay, okay, what does it feel like? Is it sharp? Or numb? Can you move anything? Your feet, your legs, shit, is it both? Is it everything?”
The questions come too fast, faster than my heart beat. It's hard to keep up. My gaze drops to my legs, heavy and useless. Beside me, Bren feels my pulse spiking and squeezes my hand.
“It’s… It’s like something crawling up them.” I answer, chest rising too fast now. “And everything behind it goes dead. Like my Threads are being squeezed from the inside.”
Ezzy’s mouth parts, then she glances at Talen. He’s closer now, watching me, face steady—but his lips are pulled tight.
“Anything else?” She asks, voice thin, rushed. “Any other feelings, symptoms? Strange taste, smell, anything?”
“I don’t… I don’t think so. I mean... There’s this taste in my mouth. Like, sour? I thought it was the smoke. But it’s been building all day too.”
Ezzy freezes.
“What is it?” Bren’s head jerks up.
Her eyes snap wide, panic spilling through. “Snare Urchin…”
“A Snare what?” I ask, too fast.
Talen’s mask cracks, his eyes widen, then he’s moving, dropping to his knees, hands tearing at the laces of my left boot.
“What the hell are you doing?” Bren’s voice spikes, confusion and fury mixing, like he’s ready to tear him off me. But before Talen can answer, Ezzy shifts, fumbles for the other boot, her fingers shaking so badly she almost knots the laces tighter.
