The stone pulsed in his fist, spilling light through his fingers, crawling his veins like stormfire in glass.
He ran.
Toward the pit.
Toward her fury.
Toward the void.
The stone split wider—white fire screaming through him, consuming shadow, consuming fear.
He hurled himself forward.
Chains split.
Souls cried.
The veil cracked open.
The Ruakite became storm.
The prison shattered in fire.
Chapter One Hundred Nine
Find Me
The Ruakite stood at paradise—and walked away.
He woke without pain.
No blood on his tongue. No fire carving his ribs. No hand crushed beneath talons.
His breath came full, clean, unbroken. Light hung in the air, radiant as an explosion frozen—a million shards of brilliance suspended in eternal breath.
Viktor staggered upright on grass that bent beneath no weight, warmth gathered from a sky dawning without sun. A river ran glass-clear beside him, its song like bells laughing in wind.
He lifted his left hand. Whole. Smooth. Fingers unbroken.
The very memory of pain washed away in the glow of perfect stillness.
His hands went to his chest—no scars, no burns.
No heartbeat.
And he knew.
“Elysium.”
And at that name—something brushed him. A ghost of light, soft as breath against his skin. Warmth. Familiar.
Amerei.
The echo of her soul touched death’s edge, reached for him.
Then—
“Find me.”
