The world blurred into fire and screams.
Elira's arms shook as she pulled Auren back through the battlefield, his blood warm and slick across her hands. His head lolled against her shoulder, eyes half-closed, breaths shallow.
"Auren, stay with me!" she pleaded, dragging him step by step toward the shattered inner wall. Her flame seared a path through the oncoming Order soldiers, every blast wild, reckless, deadly.
But Mira's laughter followed her like smoke.
> "Look at you, Flameborn," Mira called, her voice carrying over the cries of the dying. She stood tall amid the ruin, black fire swirling around her like a crown. "The savior of rebels, reduced to nothing more than a girl clutching her wounded prince."
Elira's teeth ground together. She forced another surge of fire, knocking back three advancing knights. Her body screamed from the strain, but she didn't stop. Couldn't stop.
Auren coughed weakly, blood staining his lips. "Don't… don't waste it all on me," he rasped.
"Don't you dare," Elira shot back, tears streaking her ash-stained face. "Don't you dare leave me."
Behind them, the camp collapsed into chaos. Mira's flame tore through tents, shields, and men alike. Rebels screamed as the black fire clung to them, burning even as they rolled in the dirt to smother it. One after another, they fell—cut down not by blades, but by a fire they could not fight.
And yet, through the horror, some of them began to falter in their attack—not against Mira, but around her. As if her ruthless power, her sheer dominance, demanded obedience rather than resistance.
> "See how easily they fall?" Mira's voice rose, triumphant. "They'll kneel, Flameborn. If not to you, then to me. You cannot save them—you can barely save him."
Elira's knees buckled as she dragged Auren behind a half-collapsed barricade. His weight was heavy, his breathing ragged, his eyes fluttering shut.
"No," she whispered, pressing her forehead to his. "Stay. Please, Auren. Stay."
But his body went slack in her arms.
Panic seized her heart. The fire in her veins thrashed, threatening to spill uncontrollably. She wanted to unleash it, to burn Mira to nothing—but Auren's limp form held her back.
She was Flameborn, yes. But she was also a girl holding the man she loved as the world burned around them.
And in the distance, Mira raised her hands high, black fire swirling in an unholy storm that promised nothing but ruin.