I step carefully around jagged stones that glow faintly red, like veins of lava have kissed them from below.
I glance up—and my breath catches.
The sky is a perpetual twilight, streaked with smoldering gray clouds, tinged with the orange-red of slow-burning coals.
No sun. No stars. Just an endless bruise lit from within.
Nightfall.
Even the name feels like a warning whispered too late.
Monoliths of obsidian rise from the ground at sharp angles, their cores pulsing like molten hearts.
Far across the cracked plains, I see the silhouettes of Fire Mustangs—manes ablaze, hooves churning dust and flame.
They run wild, beautiful, terrifying—but free. And I cherish that.
Closer to camp, soldiers move in disciplined lines.
Sparring. Watching. Reinforcing.
Their eyes flick to me—but none linger.
Whether it’s Thorne’s cloak around my shoulders or his scent clinging to my skin, I don’t know.
But they don’t question my presence. They don’t approach.
They protect the line.
And none of the strange creatures beyond it cross.
I spot one near the horizon—tall, thin-limbed, with glowing eyes and antlers tipped in fire.
Others soar above, wings slicing through the air in slow, predatory sweeps.
Their cries reverberate in my chest like thunder, but they never come near.
It’s as if the very world knows I’m marked.
Demon bound. Claimed.
My gaze drifts toward the gaping mouth of the mine—black as the void, alive with heat and humming power.
Somewhere down there, Thorne is facing whatever dangers stir beneath the earth.
My heart stumbles.
He said I was here because I insisted.
But he also said he brought me because he wanted me close.
And I hope, deep in my bones, that if he had to choose between this world and coming back to me, he’d choose me—even if it’s a child’s dream, even if there’s no chance in hell he’d pick me.
The air thickens around me. Warmer. Denser. Like the earth itself holds its breath.
And suddenly, I’m aware of just how not normal this place is.
How much it demands.
