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The more air, the bigger the burn.

Garrik had once told her that her emotions carried her outburst in the arena. Fueled her magic to be greater, stronger. When usually emotions were a weakness, hers were an accelerant. And every time she trained with Eldacar, the more emotion she threw at her magic, the more she could do.

So, she threw every ounce of hatred of her words, every bit of embarrassment, every tingle of fear and panic at her flames.

And let it all burn.

Higher, higher, higher.

Until flames burst from the open ceiling.

Until they exploded around the room, hitting every rotting piece of furniture, every cracked floorboard, every thread of the bedspread. Her fire grew molten, burning everything except each of them.

And with every flicker of white flames, it grew harder to breathe.

Alora intensified her focus, screaming—pleading—to her magic. The white inferno irradiated in an ethereal glow, dancing sparks burst in the flames, sucking the air from the room.

The ear-shattering sound died down, more and more. Through the remaining swirling cloud of Smokeshadows, someone burst through with palms and knuckles whitening around their neck.

Alora, Garrik choked, his body convulsing on the floor.Alora, stop. You … will kill us.

Thalon was down on his back, squirming, clawing at his throat, lips blue.

Alora, you can— Garrik’s hand scratched at the wood, failing to crawl toward her.You c—can stop.He choked, only this time, when his mouth opened, his lungs didn’t fill. His eyes widened, mouth gaping before his hand spasmed and fell.

White embers covered her sapphires, and Alora fisted her palms tight, calling her fire back inside.

The inferno ripped from every threshold and floorboard. Tore away from every open space and hole back into clenched fists. Shooting through her veins until flames returned to embers and died inside, leaving only a heavy surge of oxygen bursting back into the smothered space.

She stood, eyes fading back into jewels, ears bleeding, breathing, scanning.

Garrik’s chest rose and fell, panting, gasping for the air.

He tried to speak, but his eyes closed instead, gasping continuously before Thalon’s choked voice called out, “Yes, I’m alive.”

Coughing stirred their attention.

In the corner, by what remained of a bedframe, whoever it was that unleashed the Firekeeper-filled-hell upon their ears was still alive, too. Footsteps made the floorboards groan. They were advancing. But Thalon and Garrik were still collecting their breaths and regaining strength.

Alora squared her shoulders and willed her emotions back into her palms. “Take another step and I’ll turn your insides intobarbecue.” She extended her palms. Dancing flames formed into fiery spheres within them.

The figure stepped forward, out into the moonlight.

“Come on,I dare you!” she hissed as a semi-circle of white flames formed in front of them, licking at their bare feet.

Through the glow of the moon, a younger face, much younger than the three of them, twisted in anger. “We’re not leaving.” His voice was hoarse. Broken. Angry. “We won’t be killed for our magic, not like our parents, not like our grandsire. Not bythatdemon.” He prowled toward Garrik, who had barely pushed himself against the wall. “Burn in hell.”

Garrik’s eyes flashed with pain, not physical pain, but pain nonetheless.

‘Burn in hell’—the same words she had spoken to Kaine … to Garrik.

The villain in everyone’s story.

Alora’s hands remained raised with swirling spheres like the stars, anticipating another attack as the young male stepped again toward Garrik.

“My parents died too,” she blurted. “Nearly three centuries ago at the hands of the High King’s army.”

It stopped his advance. Locking his eyes onto hers, brows drawn together as his mouth gaped, he sucked in a sharp breath.