She screams.
Not like before. This one tears through the air, through my chest, through everything. I feel it in my teeth, in my bones, in the place where the bond lives.
Locke goes still in Vaelor’s arms.
We all go still.
The water around her isn’t just boiling anymore. It’s evaporating. I watch the surface drop—six inches, a foot—steam exploding outward in a wall that blocks her from view.
“Nova—” Someone says her name. Might be me. Might be all of us.
The steam clears for half a second.
She’s standing in water that barely reaches her knees now, head thrown back, arms spread wide, and she’sglowing. Gold and red bleeding through her skin like she swallowed the sun.
The thread in my chest pulls once more—hard, final, certain.
Then she bursts into flames.
