The air sizzles in the aftermath. The scent of scorched shadow clings to my skin—sharp, acrid—like burning hair.
I stare at my hands again—trembling, burning with light. Flames curl from my fingers in soft, hungry spirals.
“What . . . ” My voice scrapes out, stunned. “What the fuck just happened?”
Lyra’s eyes are huge, a blend of terror and awe. “Mara, you—”
There’s no time to make sense of this. More creatures are closing in. Like they’re drawn to my power.
My hands twitch with a new tingling sensation, and a violent tremor runs through me. It is almost like it’s been waiting, lurking beneath the surface all along. The flames curling around my fingers feel almost . . . known. As if greeting an old, forgotten friend.
But there’s no time to question it. Only time to burn.
A fresh wave of shadowy figures skitters over the remains of a fallen wall.
Something ancient and primal roars to life inside me. I feel tears on my cheeks and terror in my heart. I raise my hands again.
With purpose, I let it move through me. Heat surges up my arms, my fingertips tingling as another wave of fire explodes outward.
They shriek as the flames consume them. A part of me registers the horror of what I’ve done—but another part thrums with satisfaction.
Lyra stares at my hands, eyes wide. “How are you doing this?!”
I swallow hard, but my throat is raw—scorched from smoke, from shouting, from power I don’t understand. “I have no fucking idea.”
For the first time, the Fellborn hesitate.
A new knot of fear coils in my gut, cold and sharp, but I shove it down. I don’t have time for fear. Not when my village is burning and I need to find my parents.
“Just keep doing it,” Lyra urges. “Let’s help whoever we can!”
I nod, eyes scanning the chaos—but then I freeze, realization slamming into me.
“Lyra—where’s your mom?!”
She grabs my arm, her grip like a vice. “I don’t know! I only saw that my dad got Revan’s family out.” she says, her voice now shaking.
Dread claws its way up my throat.
“Then we go find her,” I say.
We run, dodging fallen beams and burning debris, the heat of fire pressing in from all sides. Lyra’s fingers tighten around my arm as we move, not letting go—as if doing so might tear the world even further apart. I don’t want her to let go either, needing the connection.
The air is thick with smoke, screams, and the sharp crack of splintering wood. Every breath burns. We race toward the center of the village, desperation pushing us faster with each step.
“Where areyourparents?!” Lyra shouts, breathless as we run.
I stumble for half a heartbeat. The question hits like a blow to the chest.
“I . . . ” They aren’t where I left them. My voice falters. “I don’t know.” The truth crashes into me like a wave of ice. “With your mother, I think.”
I left them.
Gods, I left them.
My stomach twists, my lungs suddenly too tight, the fire in my veins dimming for a beat beneath the weight of guilt.
We keep moving.
