The others are arriving.
They arrangethemselves in a loose circle around me.
The Fire-Bringers take the inner ring—Selene on my left, her gold fire already flickering at her fingertips. Aisling on my right, her steady orange flame casting dancing shadows on the stone.Nasyra across from me, her shadow-touched darkness visible only in the way light bends around her hands.
Beyond them, the brothers. Drayke stands with arms crossed, his bronze scales rippling just beneath the surface of his skin—ready to shift at a moment’s notice. Rurik bounces on his heels, red-gold energy crackling around him, barely contained excitement mixing with genuine concern. Zyphon is still as shadow, his presence a comfort rather than a threat. And Auren?—
Auren watches me with an intensity that makes my pulse race for reasons that have nothing to do with fear.
“The Fire-Bringers will maintain a containment circle,” Drayke’s voice cuts through the tension. “If you lose control, their combined fire should be enough to dampen the backlash until you can seal it again.”
Should be. Not will be. I appreciate the honesty, even as my stomach tightens.
“I won’t lose control.” I lift my chin, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “But thank you. For being here. For trusting me enough to try.”
“Just don’t make us regret it,” Aisling says, but her Irish-accented words hold no real bite. Her hand reaches out, squeezing mine briefly before returning to her ready position. “And don’t you dare burn out on us. I’ve put too much work into keeping you alive.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Selene’s fire flares brighter. “We’re ready when you are.”
I look down at the Crown in my hands. The crystallized sphere catches the morning light, refracting it into rainbows that dance across my skin. So small. So beautiful. So utterly deceptive.
This is what I was born for. The purpose my entire bloodline exists to fulfill.
I am ready.
I close my eyes and reach for my fire.
It answers immediately—white flame kindling in my chest, spreading through my veins, warming me from the inside out. The fire has been restless since Morrigan’s death, as if killing my sister unlocked something that had been held in check. Now it surges toward the Crown, eager, hungry.
The Relic responds.
The sphere in my palm grows warm. Then hot. Then blazing, though the heat doesn’t hurt—could never hurt me. The crystallized light begins to shift, to expand, the geometric patterns inside starting to move.
I push more fire into it. The Crown drinks it down, demanding endlessly more.
And then it opens.
THIRTY
TAMSIN
Power.
There’s no other word for it. Pure, undiluted, overwhelming power flooding through me, filling every cell, every thought, every heartbeat with something vast and ancient and terrible.
The Crown expands above my head, shedding its crystalline shell to reveal the true form within. Interlocking geometric patterns of light cascade outward, forming a corona that hovers inches above my hair. White light—the same color as my fire—pulsing in rhythms that match my heartbeat.
I can feel everything.
The Fire-Bringers’ flames—I sense each one distinctly now. Selene’s gold, warm and steady. Aisling’s orange, controlled and precise. Nasyra’s shadow-touched darkness, complicated and deep. They feel small compared to what’s burning inside me. Candle flames beside a sun.
My own fire blazes brighter than stars. I can reach out and ignite the air itself. Turn the stone beneath my feet to molten glass. Burn through the wards protecting this courtyard, through the walls of the fortress, through the mountain itself if I want to.
And my witch magic?—
It resonates at frequencies that make reality shiver. I can see the wards around the courtyard now, every thread of their construction visible to my amplified senses. Unravel them with a thought. Rebuild them a hundredfold stronger. Reach into the fabric of the world itself and reweave it according to my will.
