Gemma’s chest heaved. Her breaths were ragged. Bright, violet blood slipped from her nose and the corners of her eyes, drawing trails of purple against her fair skin.
“Stop!” he shouted, desperate. He grabbed her shoulders, ignoring the way her energy seared into his palms. “You’re killing yourself. Drop it, Gem.”
Her gaze flicked to him, wild and heartbreakingly calm all at once. “I can’t let them hurt you.”
“You won’t. We’ll leave now. Flee to the desert.” His grip tightened. “Let go, Gem.”
Her lips trembled into something like a smile. “No, Christian. I’ve made my choice.”
The shield pulsed, light climbing higher around her as the trickle of blood from her nose became a steady stream.
He cupped her face in his hands. “Gemma, stop. Please.” His voice broke.
She leaned close, her lips shaking against his cheek. “I love you so much.”
Her whisper lingered in his ear like a ghost.
Before he could form the word “no,” Gemma pushed him away, shooting a short burst of light into his chest to knock him off his feet.
The shield collapsed inward, the violet dome folding in on itself, shrinking faster and faster as it rushed toward Gemma, funneling into her chest in a blinding flare. The sound was deafening, like stone splitting, like the air itself tore apart. The ground shook, cracks spidering through the stone.
Christian pushed himself off the ground, but Hawk held him back when Christian tried to reach her again. All he could do was watch in horror as Gemma stood at the epicenter, bathed in light so bright it turned her into a violet silhouette. The glow streamed from her tattoos in frenzied rivers, veins of purple fire tearing up her face and down her legs, until every inch of her body was consumed.
She screamed, the sound inhuman and piercing through the chaos as the violet blaze consumed her.
Her body arched as the energy imploded, collapsing into herself. The flare folded her in, burning away her outline.
For one horrible heartbeat, she still looked like Gemma—arms outstretched, face tilted toward the sky—until all Christian could see was a figure of light unraveling at the seams.
His voice ripped from his chest, raw and useless as he screamed her name, fighting against Hawk’s hold.
The dome shattered, knocking everyone to the ground. Lamps burst, tents rattled, and the crowd fell into a stunned silence. Where Gemma had stood, the earth was scorched black in the shape of a crater.
And all that lingered was ash.
At last, Hawk released his grip.
Christian scrambled forward, his chest heaving, every breath like a knife. The crater blurred and sharpened in turns. His vision tunneled. He searched for her—an outline, a shadow, anything—every nerve in his body screamed to act, to save her, to do something.
But there was nothing to hold but ash.
“No,” he rasped, his throat closing around the word. His hands dug into the smoldering ash until tears blurred his vision. “No, no, no—”
Imara’s voice broke somewhere behind him, while Hawk swore openly. Lysa sobbed sounds he hadn’t heard since their mother died. But Christian barely noticed them. His world had narrowed to the blackened scar on the ground.
“Look what you’ve done!” Nadine wailed. “You hounded her into this! You pushed until there was nothing left!”
The silence after her cries was suffocating. No more chants, no more weapons raised. Just the sound of metal creaking and the faint hiss of scorched earth cooling.
Christian’s ears rang, but under it he heard his own breath, ragged and desperate, like he was drowning on dry land. Hisknees sank into the blackened ground, the heat biting through his trousers, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t.
Ash smeared his palms as he clawed at the crater as if he could dig her out of nothingness. But his hands came up empty every time.
“Gemma . . .” He choked, her name breaking into a sob. His chest heaved, sharp and uneven, until it hurt to breathe. He bowed forward, pressing his forehead to the burned ground. His hot tears fell into the soot. “I’m so sorry I failed you.”
A hand landed on his shoulder. Hawk’s voice was low, strained. “Christian—”
He ripped away, fury spitting out through his grief. “Don’t fucking touch me!” His voice cracked, loud enough that a ripple went through the stunned crowd. He didn’t care. His body shook as he curled forward, one arm wrapped around his middle as if holding himself together. “I told her I’d help her. I promised her . . .”
