I never wanted to be like Moira. I never wanted to kill my squad. But Enora had gone too far.
Deep purple-and-black flames gathered in my palm, warming me with their consuming heat. I didn’t hesitate. I raised my arm and hurled the fireball in one fluid movement, striking Enora in the face.
She screamed and fell to her knees. My flames slowly ate her skin, her muscle, her tongue, shoving down her throat until the only noise left was a soft gurgle.
I lifted my gaze from her to Matt and Dusty, pressure shoving behind my eyes. I imagined the white ring that had been disguised around my irises was now prominent and shining. With one look, I gave them a choice.
Matt and Dusty stepped to my side. But it was only the three of us, and the smoke at my feet thickened. Our squad jerked on the ground, struggling for air.
“Pick him up,” I snapped at Matt and Dusty as I pointed at Aspen. The rest of them… the bond didn’t care about.
I tried to move my feet, jerking toward Oliver’s spasming body. My arms moved, reaching for him, but my boots remained planted, keeping me in front of Dusty and Matt, who held Aspen’s limp body between them.
No!
Using energy I shouldn’t, I shoved against the force with Hellfire. It dug in harder. I wove between its clutches, trying to burn it away. But it didn’t move. It never fucking moved. This wasn’t a force outside methat I could fight to keep out. This thing was woven deep within me from a rune someone placed on Aspen long ago.
I needed Ronen.
Where was he?
Ridigar’s black lips widened into a razor smile. “Kill the prince.”
The strings hooked into my head pulled on my Hellfire.
Ridigar luscelered. His smoke barreled behind him. The infected swarmed as one.
“Hold your breaths!” Energy threaded through my voice, darkening it. “And if you let them touch him, I’ll kill you.”
Where the hell were Ronen and his Dreads?
The ground rumbled and holes opened, swallowing and burying infected, weakening their attacks. Rocks flew through the air and cracked our enemies’ skulls as I threw my Hellfire at Ridigar’s blurring form. He dodged. It hit an infected without eyeballs, sinking into his chest and sending him to the ground as my flames devoured him, piece by agonizing piece.
The ground ripped open near me, and I stumbled on the unsteady earth. Ridigar’s incoming claws slashed my side instead of my heart. At first, I barely felt anything as warmth pooled down my side. I stared at the wound, trying to make sense of it, then a fierce throb doubled me over and shot up my arm into my right shoulder. I choked as Ridigar’s smoke fully hit us. Dots sprinkled through my vision as I shut my mouth, a nauseating agony pounding through my side and overpowering the burn in my lungs.
How did we fight what we couldn’t see? While we couldn’t breathe? Couldn’t think?
Brilliant, blazing blue flames streaked past my face, burning the hairs on my cheek with their intensity and destroying the smoke where they flew. It opened a pocket of air. I took a deep gulp, holding back a cry as pain pierced my side from the movement. More fireballs streaked by, some low, some high, opening more pockets—more places to take a breath before Ridigar’s smoke collapsed over them. Some fireballs hit random infected, eradicating them before they could even burn. But never the one we needed. Never the one hiding somewhere within his smoke.
Aspen held a flaming hand near our faces, and one near Dusty and Matt’s as the sounds of fighting continued around us.
Relief bloomed in my chest—the Dreads.
“Deep breath,” Aspen commanded.
The four of us inhaled.
Then Aspen crouched, burning a path to Oliver’s face, MJ’s, Rune’s, and Hadrian’s. Their seizing shifted, bodies curling inward as their first involuntary breath drove through them. Desperate. Loud. Wretched gasps, heaves, and growls.
“Take a deep breath, then hold it,” he called, moving once they complied. I followed, unable to leave his side. He did the same for Zera, then Ichi and Rissa, but they had already been stirring.
“Souls don’t need to breathe,” Ichi explained on a cough.
Maybe not. But Ridigar’s smoke still burned.
Aspen moved to the last of our squad, Valarus. But as he positioned his hand above her face, clearing the poisonous air for her to breathe, she didn’t stir. She was a soul. She should be fine. Aspen lowered his flames, circling her body for a reason. We found it at her neck. A bite mark. Black veins. Infected.
My stomach dropped.
