Page 98 of A Reign of Chromes & Shadows

He strode toward the metal door of the central tower. With a flick of power, he ripped it from its hinges. The metal shrieked, warped, then flew aside, rattling as it rolled across the ground.

A narrow stone stairwell spiralled upward, the walls stained with soot and iron. The air smelled of old smoke, sweat, and something metallic; something wrong.

Rain ascended quickly, boots crunching over dust and debris. At the top stood a heavy iron door, secured only by a slide bolt on the outside. No lock. No chains. No reinforcement.

Whoever she was, they hadn’t expected anyone to come for her.

He hesitated, stretching out his senses.

She was calm and contained; oblivious to the world beyond her cage.

She had been trapped here for a long time.

The bolt screeched as he slid it free. The door swung open.

The captive startled, twisting toward the intrusion.

Deep auburn hair clung to her ebony skin in loose, tangled tendrils. Her eyes glowed like embers buried in ash. Heat shimmered around her, distorting the air, radiating from her body in restless waves.

Rain barely had time to register the surge of emotion emanating from her— panic, desperation, terror—before she called out.

“No! Stay back!”

Her voice cracked, raw and pleading.

Then—

A detonation of fire erupted from her chest.

A violent corona of heat exploded outward, white-hot and blinding. The entire chamber ignited in an instant. Personal belongings disintegrated into ash. Stone blackened. Air screamed.

Rain flinched, too slow to raise a shield.

The fire swallowed him whole.

Chapter 34

This chapter describes abandonment. With themes of trauma caused by such abuse.

There was no pain.

No scream of nerves.

No blistering heat.

No scent of burning flesh.

Yet he was alive.

Flames wrapped around him like a living cloak, racing over his arms, his chest, his face. His blue camo caught fire instantly, cotton curling into blackened petals; yet his skin registered nothing but a rushing pressure, like plunging into a deep ocean current.

He staggered back, not from agony; from pure disbelief.

Rounding the wall, he pressed his back to the heavy iron door. His hands flew over his clothes, patting frantically, extinguishing the flames. He expected raw skin beneath the charred holes. Expected pain. Expected something.

There was nothing.

Not a mark.