I’ve done this before, aimed for something impossible. The Ravine. The rope. The wall.This is no different, really, except now, I only get one chance.One shot.
As controlled as possible, I start to will my Threads forward. Not his throat. That’s too obvious. Too fast. No, I aim for the empty space between his ribs. The place where breath lives. And Isqueeze.
Every second is a war. The magic wanting to lash out, wants to burn, to break, to unravel everything. But I won’t let it, I squeeze again.Fingers tense like claws at my side.
Elijah falters, just for a second, his step stutters. A normal eye might not catch it—but I do. Hands twitching at his chest, like he's trying to steady his lungs. He coughs. Once. Twice. Not enough to stop the match. But enough to give Ezzy some time.
I lock my jaw, the tension running through my whole body as I hold my breath and squeeze again—coaxing the Threads tighter around his lungs, twisting them like a rope, aiming clean. Precise. Focused.
But they don’t listen.
Under the pressure, they start togrow, expand and multiply. And not just toward him. Towardher.
I see it, the flush rising in Ezzy’s face, her jaw clenching.
No. No, no, I tense harder, panic rising. I try to yank my Threads away from her, will them toward Elijah and only Elijah.
But they backlash. The force I pushed outward whips back, too fast, too violent, tome. It coils around my neck like burning wire, searing tight. I gasp, no air. My chest locks, lungs folding like crumpled paper, heartbeat thrashing like it’s trying to claw its way out.
Elijah stumbles.
So do I.
The magic’s working. It’s breaking him, but it’s breakingme, too. I try and hold on, holding the pressure, but my vision doubles, then triples. I can’t hear anything but the roar of blood pounding in my ears.
Still, down in front, a blonde blur. Ezzy’s moving, she’s crawling, dragging herself forward. Toward him. Toward an ending. I squeeze my fists tighter. Hold, just hold. God, please—just one more second.
Elijah sways again. So do I. I feel blood in my throat, a sting behind my eyes. Threads grinding through every nerve like shattered glass.
I can’t breathe, my chest won’t rise, air won’t come. But I can’t let go, not yet, Ezzy’s close. So close.
Just.
One.
More...
My Threads snap tight?—
And everything goes black.
A sharp,high-pitched ringing cuts through my head as I blink my eyes open. The floor swims below me, sloped stone, fractured light. I’m hunched forward, arms wrapped around my ribs like I’m bracing for an impact that’s already come and gone. My mouth tastes like bile, and my Threads—silent. No, not silent.Empty.
Nausea tears through my gut as I try and sit up, I press a hand to my sternum and squeeze my eyes back shut, willing the room to stop shifting. Chest rising once, twice, strained and slow. Finally, it settles, and when I open my eyes, around me, the room is nearly empty. Most of the cadets are gone, just a few silhouettes slipping out through the doors, their voices warping in and out like echoes underwater.
God, what just?—
Ezzy.
I jolt upright. Nausea forgotten, every beat of my heart screaming one thing:pleaselet her be okay.
Head turning, my gaze snaps to the mat, no sign of Elijah, or Ryven and his crew. Just the professors, Talen, and there, in the corner, Finn crouched low, his back curled protectively, arms wrapped around something—someone.
My blood goes cold, no movement, no sound. Just the terrible stillness of a body held too gently.
Is she breathing? God, please?—
The ringing in my ears shifts into focus as I get up. Legs unsteady but moving anyway, I take the steps two at a time. Finn looks up as I reach the edge of the mat. His face is pale, hands trembling. Then he shifts just enough for me to see her.
