KAEL'S POV
The canyon breathed like a living thing. Heat surged up from the chasm, waves of it rolling over my skin until sweat and blood stung my eyes. The glow wasn't just fire—it was something deeper, older, a pulse that matched the rhythm of my own corrupted heart.
I laid Ayla gently against the stone, my knees cracking as I lowered myself beside her. Her hair clung damp to her face, her chest rising shallow, every breath rattling like she was dragging it from somewhere far away. My hands hovered over her, fire trembling at my fingertips, but I didn't dare release it.
If I burned too much, I'd scorch her. If I didn't burn at all, the shadows inside her would spread.
She looked like she was already caught between both.
"Ayla…" My voice cracked, and I hated the sound of it. Weak. Shaken. But I couldn't help it. I brushed her cheek with the back of my hand. Cold. Too cold.
Her eyelids fluttered. She didn't wake.
And then the ground beneath us shifted.
