The storm of black fire raged behind them.
Elira stumbled through the smoke, Auren's limp form cradled against her chest. His blood had soaked through her tunic, hot at first, now chilling against her skin. His breathing was shallow—so shallow she feared with every step it might stop altogether.
"Fall back! FALL BACK!" a rebel captain's voice broke through the chaos, raw with desperation.
What remained of their forces surged toward the inner gates of Southwatch, battered and broken. Half of them were gone—scattered ash on the wind, cut down by Mira's merciless flame.
Elira's knees nearly gave out, but she forced herself forward, dragging Auren with her. Every muscle screamed. The sigils burned along her arms, hungry for release, whispering that she could still turn and fight, that she could still burn Mira into nothing.
But she didn't dare. Not with Auren in her arms. Not with so much already lost.
Behind them, Mira's laughter rolled through the night, sharp and cruel.
> "Run, little Flameborn! Run while you still can! Southwatch is already mine!"
The words bit deep into Elira's spirit, but she kept moving, tears stinging her eyes.
At last, the survivors crashed through the gates, slamming them shut with what strength they had left. The city walls groaned, splintered, already half-devoured by Mira's fire. Southwatch was not saved—it was dying.
Elira lowered Auren onto a cot hastily laid out in a shadowed corner of the keep. He was deathly pale, his pulse weak under her trembling fingers.
"Get a healer!" she cried, voice breaking. "Now!"
The rebels looked at her—some rushing to obey, others only staring. Their eyes held grief, fear… and doubt.
"She's too strong," one whispered, voice barely carrying. "Mira's too strong. We can't win."
Another, bitter: "She burned half our number tonight. And the Flameborn couldn't stop her."
The words cut deeper than any wound.
Elira's hands clenched into fists, fire sparking wildly in her palms. She wanted to scream, to deny it, to prove them wrong—but Auren's shallow breathing pulled her back.
She sat beside him, pressing her forehead against his cold hand. "Please," she whispered, voice trembling. "Don't leave me. Don't leave us."
For the first time since the Flame had chosen her, Elira felt powerless.
And outside the broken walls of Southwatch, Mira's fire lit the night sky like a second sun, a blazing reminder of the ruin still to come.