Every time his mind started to go dark, something prodded it back, and the process began anew—more burning, more fire, more pain.
On and on.
With no end in sight.
Until the agony transported him somewhere else, and suddenly he was a child again, buried beneath his mother's body as a sea of flames crashed into their rooms, setting his life ablaze. The acrid smell of burned flesh stung his nose. Screams of terror and pain tore through the air, a sound he'd never forget, replaced by a silence that was somehow worse, nothing but the crackle and pop of fire, the sizzling more familiar than any lullaby. He was broken, lying there and waiting for the end. He didn't try to move. He didn't try to run. He didn’t want to leave his mother and father. He wanted to follow them to Taetanos's realm, and for a brief moment, as his world went dark, he thought he had—until he woke to find his brother above him, tears in his eyes and a smile on his lips.
Xander.
His name broke through the blaze.
Xander.
He was in danger.
He needed—he needed—
The thought disappeared as a wave of heat pulled Rafe under. There was another creature drowning with him, whose screeches he didn’t understand, whose language was different, whose body was beastly, but whose mind cried out in a way that pierced him with recognition. They were together in this, whatever this was. Their spirits were entwined.
Save us, he pleaded, to the gods, to the mist, to whoever was listening. Save us.
But this time, there would be no Xander to pull him from the wreckage. This time, there would be no mysterious dove to heal his wounds. This time, there would be no ship full of strangers waiting to pluck him from the sky. Brighty had been right, back on the ship, spewing words he didn’t want to hear. No one was worried about him. No one was coming. No one cared. Not anymore.
And then he felt her.
Like a winter storm, her magic blew in, wild and untamed, fierce and unforgiving, a brief respite from the heat as frigid air brushed against his skin.
Ana, he thought as the fire fought to claim him. You came.
45
Lyana
The warehouse shone with the brilliance of the sun, almost blinding as Lyana raced through the mist. Flames chased the darkness away, the scent of burned wood filling the air, but it was the golden current of Malek's power that glowed brightest. Her wings sliced at the fog. The muscles in her back burned with a familiar heat, making her feel strong as the city passed beneath her in a blur—houses and canals blending into a series of shapeless shadows flowing like a river. She wasn't moving fast enough. Against the maelstrom of a city full of aching spirits, Rafe's cries struck like lightning, so piercing that everything else was left in shadow.
Lyana's magic arched across the sky with a speed she envied, crashing into the warehouse, fueled by a single command—Stop!
Malek's response was a swift, No.
His magic hit her like a wall. Lyana ricocheted off the golden wave, flipping in midair as the blast shot her backward. But the sky was her domain and the wind her kindred spirit. Gusts whooshed by and righted her body, her feathers at a perfect angle to catch the breeze. Invisible currents carried her forward, faster and faster, unleashed and free. Lyana braced for another attack, but Malek must have been too distracted because it never came.
A moment later, she realized why.
Four of his mages waited on the dock in front of the warehouse. Isaak was the only one presenting her with his back, too busy containing the raging fire to worry about her. The other three, though, stood in a line, their shoulders squared as magic simmered at their fingertips—Kal, Jacinta, and Nyomi. They could have been back in the arena, preparing for a training session. But this was real, and it was Rafe on the other side of that door. If Malek had thought an army of three would be enough to stop her, he hadn't been paying attention.
Lyana collapsed her wings and landed on the wet planks in a roll. By the time she stopped in a crouch, their spirits had already been snatched by her talons.
Kal acted first.
The last thing she saw before the world went a blinding white was his crimson hair blowing in the breeze as a furrow appeared in his freckled brow. She closed her eyes against the mage light, fighting back tears from the sting. With her magic, she didn’t need to see. No matter how much power Kal pushed into the air, burning up the mist, she could still feel his soul. There was no way to hide. She knew exactly where he was. One with the spirit of the air, Lyana pulled on the wind and sent a gust barreling toward him. It slammed into his chest, knocking him clean off the dock, and he dropped into the sea.
The ivory flare snuffed out.
Lyana lifted her head, daring Jacinta and Nyomi to face her. Green sparks flared and two daggers rose clean out of the scabbards around Jacinta's waist. Lyana hardly paid attention. She was the queen of prophecy, and she knew, no matter what Malek's orders, they wouldn't kill her. They wanted to scare her, but they wouldn't succeed. Fury had burned all her fear away.
A flute of water shot toward her.
Lyana lifted her palm and bid it to stop.
A dagger sailed for her throat.
She simply swatted it away.
Run, she thought, their bodies trapped beneath the weight of her command. Run into the city, and don't come back.
They did.
Swirls of green and blue magic filled the air as the two women sprinted past, but the attacks were too little too late. Lyana easily deflected the metal Jacinta sent soaring in her wake. The ocean surged, but she held it back. A beam of ivory light erupted from the sea, and she turned to find Kal had resurfaced.
Swim, she thought, her grip on his soul absolute. Swim away, and don't look back.
He did.
Lyana closed her eyes, feeling their souls drift farther and farther out of reach. Eventually, when they were at a safe distance, she'd release them. She didn't want them dead—she just wanted them out of her way.
As she stood, Isaak glanced over his shoulder, the wrinkles on his face harsh in the firelight. Red magic and flames enveloped his fingers as he fought to control the blaze attempting to swallow the warehouse whole.
"I suggest you let me pass," she said.
His light brown eyes darkened with defeat. "Very well, my queen."
Lyana soared across the distance and used a blast of wind to throw open the warehouse doors. As she tore inside, a sea of gold immediately swept her away. Malek's power churned like a cyclone, catching her in its vortex. She couldn't see beyond his magic. It was everywhere. He was everywhere. Embers scorched her feathers and her braids whipped across her face, making her skin sting.
"Malek!" she called, trying to fight through the chaos. "Malek!"
The fire was everywhere and nowhere, in the magic, in the building, in the air she breathed. She tried to reach for Rafe, but she couldn't feel him anymore. A man screamed and she fought with all her might to follow that sound.
"Rafe! Rafe!"
Her feet brushed the ground and she dropped into a run, but it was useless. The wind blew her over, sending her stumbling to the side as she struggled to remain upright.
Your magic.
Use your magic.
Lyana reached for Malek with her power, sensing his soul within the madness. He was too weak to shirk her hold. A scream ripped through the air, but this time she realized it wasn't Rafe—it was him.