They step cautiously, their faces drawn tight with fear and disbelief, their eyes flicking between the destruction, the bodies, the girl at the center of it all. One older man stares at the woman at the center of the chaos like she’s something out of legend, his lips saying a prayer to the gods.
I exhale sharply, scanning the remnants of the village. These people have lost everything.
And yet, they’re looking at herlike they know she’s the reason they’re still standing.
Then the dark-haired woman turns toward me, and for a moment, her dark eyes meet mine. Something flickers there—recognition, disbelief . . . wariness.
And I feel it.
Not in my chest. Not in my mind.
In the air itself.
Her magics flare one last time—raw, uncontrolled, untamed. A final, devastating pulse ripples outward, as if the Elements themselves are reluctant to leave her.
I hear Valen shift beside me.
“The Spiritborn,” Valen says, his voice low, certain. Like he’s known all along. He grips his staff tighter.
My breath halts when her eyes meet mine.
She’s a miracle. She’s a weapon. She’snot ready.
Neither are we.
Then I see her sway.
Valen barks out an order to catch her. Her knees buckle. Her friend tries to steady her, but I’m already moving. Before I can speak to her, her eyes flutter closed, her body going slack.
She crumples into my arms like a ragdoll—light, buthumming with residual heat. Not just warmth.Power.The kind that lingers, even when the storm has passed.
I shift her gently, cradling her weight against my chest. She seems so fragile. Her head lolls against my shoulder, hair damp with sweat and ash. Her skin is too hot. Her pulse flutters at her throat—weak, but there.
Behind me, Valen exhales—a sound full of awe and exhaustion. “She collapsed the entire front with a single pulse. She stopped them.”
Stopped them? Sheobliteratedthem.
All around us, villagers begin to move with trepidation, like they’re afraid to wake a sleeping god. They’re staring at her, but no one dares come closer. Except the red-haired woman—her friend. She stumbles forward, tears streaking her face, her body shaking.
“Is she—?” she starts, voice catching.
“She’s alive,” I say.
Her friend sways with relief.
“Where is her family? Her parents?”
We have to let them know we’re taking her—that we need her. But the red-haired woman only shakes her head slowly, her eyes filling with tears. And I understand.
I shift the woman in my arms to hold her more securely and nod toward Valen. “We need to move. The portal will close soon.”
“I’m coming with you,” her friend demands.
Valen nods and begins to lead us back to the portal. The villagers gather, silent but watchful.
I look down at the women in my arms.
Her brow is furrowed even in unconsciousness, like her body is still bracing for the next wave. Her lips part on a stuttering breath, and the remnants of magics flicker faintly along her skin—tiny sparks that don’t know where to go.
