“Find your hands,”the voice commanded.“Anchor there. Live.”
His fingers clawed the grass. Burn followed—violent, searing.
Lightning ripped through him—a stone pressed to his chest, glowing blue-white. Each surge scorched him alive.
Air slammed into his lungs like shattered glass.
His chest arched, convulsed.
“You are not finished.”
The vow shook through him like judgment.
“Rise.”
His eyes flew open.
Above him, the stars blazed brighter, endless.
He dragged in a breath, body wrecked but alive. The faintest heat still pulsed beneath his ribs—like the last ember refusing to die.
And through the night came a voice stronger than thunder—
Amerei’s cry, breaking, calling him back.
She stumbled through the shattered hall, skirts torn, rubble biting into her knees. The roar of panicked nobles still rang behind her, but she only heard one thing—silence where his voice should have been.
“Viktor!”
Her throat tore on his name. She shoved past the smoke, stone dust stinging her eyes. Evander shouted at her to wait, to slow down, but she didn’t. Couldn’t.
The night swallowed her as she burst through the ruin.
And there—
her heart nearly stopped.
Viktor lay sprawled in the grass, chest blackened, smoke still curling from his skin. His mantle was torn, his body wrecked, the fire of him nearly gone. For one paralyzing breath she thought he was—
“No.”
She fell beside him, hands shaking as they pressed against his chest.
“No, no, no.”
“Amerei!” Evander’s boots struck stone as he caught up, reaching for her arm, trying to drag her back.
“Don’t touch me!” she screamed, shoving him off, her tears falling hot onto Viktor’s scorched skin. “Viktor, look at me—”
His lashes fluttered, a ragged sound tearing from his throat. Relief cracked through her so violently she almost sobbed.
“I’m here,” she whispered, cradling his head, fingers combing through soot-dark hair. “Viktor, I’m here. Come back to me.”
And when his eyes finally slit open, blue mist flickering in their depths, Amerei felt her heart break and mend in the same instant. For a breath she swore the ground itself trembled, as if the earth refused to take him.
“Viktor…” She wiped soot from his cheek, his face the only part of him untouched—skin pale, lashes black with ash. Below, his chest and shoulders were scorched, cloth fused to flesh, sweat and blood seeping through. His arms hung useless, his raven hair matted, spread wild in the grass.
Her hand shook against him. Terrified to touch. Terrified to let go.
