“It was always going to end like this.” Taren’s voice chafed. “Even in a world of blood and violence…justice still finds its turn.”
Rynna’s stomach heaved with pain so sharp it felt like an animal fighting tooth and nail to escape her innards. Her foot shifted forward without permission, her body already moving toward Kaelith.
Itcouldn’tend like this. Not now. Not after she had fought to save him—foughtin spiteof everything. Not when she’d finally started to believe there might be something left worth salvaging between them.
But Bran—
Tears welled up, hot and unrelenting. She barely felt them as they spilled over. Her vision blurred, and then Fenn’s arms closed around her from behind, pulling her against him like he could hold her together through sheer force of will.
“I’m sorry, love,” he murmured against her hair, voice thick with sorrow. “Taren’s right. However it began…he’s done too much harm. This is personal.”
She shook her head, trembling. “No—” But the word stuck in her throat.
She tried to teleport out. To move. Todosomething—anything—but her thoughts scattered. Panic blurred everything, made her limbs useless. Her mind couldn’t find purchase. She couldn’tthink. Her power wouldn’t answer.
The fire inched closer.
Kaelith didn’t move. He exhaled softly, opening his eyes, and looked at her.
I have done more than enough to deserve the fire, Rynna…but...The words teased her mind.That boy…he was the last thing connecting me to you.
Then the flood hit.
A storm of images crashed into her—too fast, too bright. Pain. Loneliness. Regret. Love twisted into rage. The heat of firelight in a home long gone. A small child laughing. Then screaming. Crying.
A woman, sobbing—her voice hoarse. Her hands shaking as she shoved the child into Kaelith’s arms, tears streaking her soot-smudged cheeks.
“Run. Please, just run. He’s still young enough to leave.”
Then darkness.
Branches cutting at his skin as he sprinted through the trees, the child clutched in his arms. Wind howled around him, carrying the roar of a collapsing mountain behind him.
Save him!
Rynna screamed without sound as she curled in on herself, hands clamped over her skull, trying to squeeze out the avalanche of sensation crashing into her.
Fenn’s arms tightened around her for a beat before he lowered her gently to the ground.
Very well.It was just a whisper in her mind. Fenn. Not…Kaelith.
She felt it in him, the conflict and resignation warring beneath his skin.
Then he stepped forward, and the absence of his touch landed like a verdict.
“Stop.” His voice was hard as his footsteps moved away.
She barely heard him. She couldn’t hearanythingover the memory of Kaelith striding into the small office—a child limp in his arms—where an old man in the robes of the Ember Warden waited behind a desk, his face grave.
“If you leave,” the Warden said quietly, “you can never return.”
“So long as you take care of the youngling, I don’t care about anything else.”
“Very well.”
The memory shattered.
Rynna closed and opened her eyes, the weight lifting just enough for a single gulp of air. But the scene before her had already shifted. Fenn’s boots now stood planted between Kaelith and the path of the fire. The flames licked at his legs, sputtering in angry hunger, but he didn’t move.
