Zara's POV
The flames grow bigger in my hands.
Guards charge at us from every direction. Twenty. Thirty. More pouring through the broken cave entrance. Davos stands in the middle of them, smiling like he's already won.
"Zara," Ashram says quietly beside me. "Can you hold it?"
The fire dancing on my skin feels alive. Hungry. Like it wants to eat the whole world. I should be scared. I should be losing control.
But I'm not.
"Yes," I say.
The word comes out strong. Sure. Like I finally know who I am.
Ashram's eyes flash gold. "Then let's remind them why they locked me away for three hundred years."
He moves first. Fire explodes from his hands in a wave that sends ten guards flying backward. They crash into the cave walls and don't get up.
I throw my flames at the ones coming from the right. My power hits them like a wall. They scream and run.
For the first time since Davos betrayed me, I feel powerful.
But then Isla steps forward. Her eyes glow with that weird light. Her skin looks wrong—like metal mixed with flesh. She raises her hand, and black lightning crackles between her fingers.
"Spirit magic," Ashram growls. "She's been injecting stolen essence."
"Can she do that?" I ask.
"She can try." His voice is cold. "It'll kill her eventually. The human body wasn't meant to hold spirit power."
Isla fires her black lightning. Ashram blocks it with a wall of flames, but the force pushes us backward. The cave shakes. Rocks fall from the ceiling.
"We need to get out of here!" I yell.
"I'm working on it!" Ashram shoots flames at more guards, but they keep coming. There are too many.
Davos laughs. "Give up, Zara! You can't win! You're just a thief playing with power you don't understand!"
Something inside me snaps.
I remember every cruel word he ever said. Every lie. Every time he made me feel small and worthless. Every moment he smiled while planning to destroy me.
The fire in my hands turns silver-gold.
"I understand power just fine," I say.
Then I let it explode.
The blast tears through the cave like a hurricane made of flames. Guards fly in every direction. The walls crack. The ceiling splits open, letting in moonlight and desert wind.
When the dust clears, half the guards are unconscious. The other half are running away.
Davos stares at me with wide eyes. For the first time, he looks scared.
"Impossible," he whispers.
Isla screams in rage and fires more black lightning. But Ashram grabs my hand, his magic flowing into mine, and together we create a shield of pure spirit fire.
Her attack hits our shield and bounces back. She barely dodges her own lightning.
"Now!" Ashram yells.
He pulls me through the broken cave ceiling. We fly—actually fly—on wings made of flames. The desert spreads below us, dark and endless.
Behind us, I hear Davos shouting orders. Isla screaming threats. But we're already gone, riding the wind and fire into the night.
We land miles away in a canyon hidden by rocks. Ashram's flames die down. He drops to his knees, breathing hard.
"Are you okay?" I ask.
"Fine." But he doesn't look fine. His skin flickers between solid and flames. The gold in his eyes dims, then brightens, then dims again. "Just... unstable."
Fear grips my chest. "What's happening to you?"
He doesn't answer right away. Instead, he stares at his hands like they're strangers.
"Sit," he finally says. "There's something you need to know."
I sit beside him on the cold sand. Above us, stars fill the sky. Everything feels too quiet after the battle.
"The plague," Ashram begins. His voice sounds tired. Old. "The one that's been killing people across your kingdom for months. Do you know what's causing it?"
"No. The Magistrate says it's a curse from the old gods."
Ashram laughs, but there's no humor in it. "The old gods. Right." He looks at me with those burning gold eyes. "It's me, Zara. I'm causing the plague."
My blood goes cold. "What?"
"Not on purpose." He holds up a hand before I can yell. "Let me explain. For three hundred years, the Magistrate has been draining my essence—my magic—to power spells for the elite. Every fancy magical trick they do? That's stolen from me. From spirits like me trapped underground."
He stands and walks to the edge of the canyon. His whole body glows faintly.
"But magic isn't meant to be stolen. It corrupts. Rots. The Magistrate knew I was unstable years ago. He knew my essence was poisoning as it leaked out. And he kept draining me anyway because he wanted the power."
Horror fills my stomach. "The plague. All those people dying—"
"That's my corrupted magic escaping," Ashram says quietly. "Spreading like poison through water. Killing anyone too weak to resist it." He turns to face me. "Thousands dead, Zara. Because the Magistrate chose power over their lives."
I can't breathe. I remember the plague hitting our neighborhood. The way people fell sick overnight. The black veins spreading under their skin. The screaming that never stopped.
My friend Nessa died in my arms. She was only ten.
"All this time," I whisper. "He knew. He knew and did nothing."
"Worse than nothing." Ashram's voice turns hard. "He used the plague as an excuse. More guards. More arrests. More control. Fear makes people obey."
Rage burns through me hotter than any fire. The Magistrate. Davos. Isla. All of them knew. All of them let people die to stay in power.
"Can we stop it?" I ask. My voice shakes. "The plague. Can we save people?"
Ashram is quiet for a long moment. Too long.
"There's a way," he finally says. "But you won't like it."
"Tell me."
He walks back to me. His face is serious. Scared, even.
"The only way to stop the plague is to stabilize my magic completely. To do that, we need to break the seals holding the other six spirits trapped beneath the Sunstone Citadel." He touches the brand over my heart. "Your blood can break those seals, Zara. You're the key."
"Then let's do it," I say immediately.
"You don't understand." His grip on my shoulders tightens. "The moment those seals break, all seven of us will be free. Seven spirits worth of compressed, corrupted magic released at once." His eyes bore into mine. "It'll cause an explosion. A massive one. Everyone within fifty miles of the Citadel—"
"Will die," I finish. My voice sounds hollow.
He nods. "Hundreds of thousands of people. Maybe more."
The desert wind blows cold against my face. I taste sand and ash.
"So we can stop the plague," I say slowly. "But only by killing everyone in the capital."
"Yes."
We stare at each other. Above us, the stars shine like they don't care about impossible choices.
Then I hear it. A sound that makes my heart stop.
Screaming.
I jump up and run to the canyon edge. Below, in the valley, I see them. People. Dozens of them. They're covered in black veins. Stumbling. Falling. Dying.
The plague found them.
"No," I breathe.
One of the dying people looks up. Even from here, I recognize her face.
My grandmother.
And beside her, trying to help, collapsing too—
Lyra.
My sister.
"No!" I scream.
Ashram grabs me before I can jump down. "Zara, wait—"
"That's my family!" I struggle against his grip. "Let me go!"
"If you go down there, you'll get infected too!"
"I don't care!"
Below, my grandmother falls. Lyra tries to catch her but collapses beside her instead. Both of them lying in the sand. Not moving.
Everything inside me breaks.
I turn to Ashram. Tears stream down my face. "Fix this. Please. Use your magic. Save them."
"I can't." His voice cracks. "My magic is what's killing them. If I use more, I'll make it worse."
"Then what do I do?" I'm begging now. Sobbing. "What good is all this power if I can't save the people I love?"
Ashram looks at me with such pain in his eyes. Like he understands exactly how this feels.
"There might be one way," he says quietly. "But it's dangerous. And it means trusting someone I swore never to trust again."
"Who?"
He takes a deep breath.
"Kesara. The water spirit. She can purify corrupted magic—if she's strong enough. If she's even still alive after all these years." His hands shake. "She was my closest friend before the imprisonment. But she's the one who told the Magistrate where to find Zariah. She's the reason my Spirit-Keeper died."
The name hangs between us like a knife.
"She betrayed you," I say.
"Yes."
"But she can save my family."
"Maybe."
I look down at my grandmother and sister. Still not moving. The plague spreading.
Then I look at Ashram. At the spirit who's been alone and tortured for three hundred years. Who finally found someone to trust again.
And I have to ask him to face his betrayer.
"Please," I whisper. "Please help me save them."
Ashram closes his eyes. Pain crosses his face like physical hurt.
When he opens them again, they're full of something I've never seen before.
Forgiveness.
"For you," he says quietly. "I'll do it for you."
He raises his hand to the sky. Flames explode upward—not red or gold, but pure white. A signal.
"Kesara!" he shouts into the night. "I know you're out there! I know you've been watching! If you ever cared about me—if any of it was real—come now! Help me save them!"
His voice echoes across the desert.
For a long moment, nothing happens.
Then the stars reflect on something that wasn't there before. Water. Floating in the air like reversed rain.
And from the water, a woman's voice speaks. Sad and ancient and tired.
"After all these years," she says. "You finally called for me."