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I stop at the entrance of the town—a wall of fire engulfs the buildings, the roofs, the sky. I sink onto my knees. There’s no way they are getting out of this. The way the flames dance, I can see the little girl’s face again. Her small eyes rounded in terror. The rest of her family’s faces flash in my memory, along with my mother and brother. All of their screams linger at the edge of my consciousness. I clench my shaking hands around my ears as they grow louder and closer, transforming from screams into a chant.

Fire incarnate. Flame in flesh. Blood of power.

Fire incarnate. Flame in flesh. Blood of power.

Fire incarnate. Flame in flesh. Blood of power.

Fixating on the flames, I wait for them to morph from red to blue, as they always do in my nightmares. I drop my handsfrom my ears, slowly succumbing to the madness of the chanted words. I’m swept into an out of body experience. Hypnotized, and against my own volition, I reach my hand out toward the fire. Cole’s ring on my finger is the only confirmation it’s actually my hand. My fingertips brush the edge of the wicked flame when a shadowy silhouette emerges from behind the wall of fire. The figures morph until I recognize the sway of steps, and the angled set of broad shoulders.

I back away, and Cole bursts through the fire, cradling Archie, both of them doused in blood. Darian steps through the flames right behind him, his sword drawn as he surveys the outskirts of Blackfell.

“Is he okay?” I breathe, rising to my feet.

Archie slowly blinks open his eyes and peers up at Cole, his voice raspy. “Y-you….you came back for me?”

Cole smiles sweetly and nods. “Of course, I did. I’d never leave you behind. You’re the best soldier we have.”

Darian’s shoulder clips the edge of mine as he passes the three of us.

Maybe it was a cheap shot to mention his sister…but I breathe a sigh of relief it worked. We return to the squad and rescued civilians, and I dress Archie’s injured arm, wrapping it tight and giving him a vial for the pain. I assess the rest of the squad and civilians. We’ve lost a handful of men and women in battle. Others that have survived require splints and gauze.

After I’ve tended to who I can, Cole splits us into three groups. Darian’s to lead the front of the pack. Archie and I will be in the center group with the civilians and others who are wounded. And Cole will fall to the back group with Melaina, Gavin, and Nolan. I instruct Daeja to wait in the forest until we’ve gone far enough ahead for her to follow us back to camp.

Archie insists he can hobble back to the outpost on his own but leans against me for support. I loop my arm around his waist to brace him, catching him every time he stumbles.

“Did you injure your leg?” I pause and crouch to search him for any stab wounds or blood I might have missed earlier.

He winces as I brush his thigh. “I was trapped under a column. I feel more dizzy than anything.”

“It’s probably from the blood loss. Are you sure you’ll be okay to walk back the whole way?”

His voice cracks. “Yeah, totally fine.”

I narrow my eyes at him but don’t push him. “You were trapped under a column?”

“Yeah, the fire grew so fast. I’ve never seen anything like it. The buildings started to collapse, and as I tried to escape, part of a column fell on me.”

I stand. “Did you see any dragons?”

“No. Did you? I saw you were there—saw you throw that dagger...I’m pretty sure you saved my life. Where did you disappear off to? I never saw you again.”

“I helped the rest of the civilians get out.” It’s not a complete lie but still uncomfortable to present to Archie nonetheless.

It’s a long walk back to camp at our pace, and by the midway point, we pause to let Archie catch his breath. Cole offers to carry him the rest of the way, but Archie declines—the stubborn thing. Cole directs Darian to switch spots with me, but I refuse to leave Archie alone with Darian. Instead, Archie wraps his arms around both mine and Darian’s neck for support. Darian, surprisingly, hadn’t said a single thing the entire way back to camp. As soon as we get Archie down into a bed in the healer’s quadrant, Darian departs without a word. A twinge of regret surfaces inside of me for what I said to him about his sister. My thoughts flicker over to my brother for a moment, before I block it all out.

Several beds around us have injured patients, blood smearing their skin and clothing, limbs and torsos wrapped in linens. The heavy scent of alcohol stings my nose—reminding me of Marge’s explanation as to why we have so many bottles of liquor in the healer’s quadrant. Not only does it help with pain relief, but it also disinfects wounds.

Marge finishes wrapping a woman’s ankle before shuffling over to Archie and me. “Are there any others?”

I tuck my hair back behind my ear. “I’m not sure. We might be the last. I bandaged and wrapped who I could before we returned.”

Together, Marge and I clean the gash on Archie’s arm. Marge then begins to stitch up the wound. He throws his head back, wriggling through the pain.

“Boy, if you don’t hold still I won’t be able to stitch this properly,” Marge warns.

“Does that mean it’ll leave a cool scar?” Archie asks through gritted teeth.

“Means you might lose your whole arm if you don’t sit still,” she hisses.