“This is my fault.”
The realization slams into me with brutal clarity. Every fire. Every building. Every terrified face running through the smoke. It is all answering me.
The guilt hits harder than the fear.
“No, no, no?—”
Strong arms close around me suddenly. Threxian.
His wings unfold in a wide protective arc, shielding my body from the worst of the heat as sparks rain down across the square. The hellish glow along the edges of his wings flickers in violent reflection of the firestorm spreading through Briarthorn.
“Elowen,” he says.
His voice cuts through the roaring panic inside my head. But it is not enough. Another scream rises somewhere in the burning streets.
I see a figure stumble through the smoke with flames licking dangerously close to their feet, and the sight sends a fresh surge of terror tearing through my chest.
“They’re burning!” I cry, my voice breaking as I struggle against his hold. “Threx, make it stop!”
His arms tighten around me.
“I am trying,” he says quietly.
But I feel the truth through the bond. The hell fire no longer belongs to him. It belongs to the fear racing through my veins.
The flames leap again. A barn at the far edge of the square erupts into sudden fire, the entire structure catching with terrifying speed as the power spreads outward across the village.
I choke on the smoke filling the air.
“Stop!” I scream at the flames themselves, my voice raw with desperation. “Please, stop!”
But the fire does not listen. Because it was never answering my voice. It was answering my fear.
Threxian pulls me closer against his chest as another explosion of sparks showers down from a collapsing rooftopnearby. His wings fold tighter around us, creating a barrier between my trembling body and the hell-born chaos tearing through the square.
“Look at me,” he says firmly.
I shake my head helplessly.
“I can’t?—”
“Elowen.”
The command in his voice forces my gaze upward. His eyes burn with fierce intensity as he cups the back of my head, holding me steady despite the hard trembling running through my body.
“Breathe.”
The word reaches through the storm of panic tearing at my thoughts. For a moment I cannot obey. All I can hear are the screams. All I can see are the flames spreading through Briarthorn.
“People are going to die,” I whisper.
The guilt twists through my chest like a blade.
“This is my fault.”
“No,” he says.
But I feel the hesitation beneath the word. Because we both know the truth. Another building collapses somewhere in the distance.
