Page 71

Alexiares

I killed them all. Every man. Every woman. Every child that looked to be over the age of eighteen. Luck had me find them and that same luck had me offer their last breaths. If I couldn’t have a happy ending, then no one could.

They say grief comes with a strange sense of relief, a loosening of the breath you never realized you were holding. A fleeting peace in knowing the person you love the most can no longer come in harm’s way.

That would never come for me.

There was no peace for a widower with nothing but rage for being left behind.

I told my wife I would burn this world for her. And so I would. All of it. Every last brick, every sliver of glass, every vein of life this city had to offer—I had razed it to the ground.

There was no comfort in the fact that Amaia had not died in vain. She won. We won. All her hopes and dreams, everything else she lived and died for, were not without reason. Because for now, the world would know peace.

Just not this side of it.

I would lurk in the shadows. Thrive in the darkness. I would not rest until every person responsible for putting Ronan into power begged for death at my hands.

No matter how many jaws cracked under my palm, or bones shattered by the force of my vines—no matter how much blood spilled—it would never be enough.

I could slice a thousand throats and watch them drown in their misery, yet none of it could drown the sound.

The sound.

One. Two. Three. Four . Four eternal seconds had eclipsed between the time Ronan’s blade kissed the throat of my Amaia. Four seconds before she gave herself to her flames. It was a whimper, the smallest, most immutable of sounds, but I heard it—felt it as if it had been said through my lips and reverberated around the ribs that held my numb, ever beating heart. It wasn’t fear. Amaia wasn’t afraid to die.

It was the sound of knowing . Knowing she would leave me behind. Knowing that her victory would cost her everything. Knowing that I’d be alone in a world she fought to save. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair .

Every ounce of honor left my body. The desire to preserve the mirage of morality, a sense of honor; it was nothing but ash. Without Amaia, that tinge of guilt that comes with keeping your humanity intact was worthless to me. No value. No value. No fucking value.

Not until I found a way to get her back. Reina was smart. She had the Scholar gene. With Tomoe’s ability to see , we could make this work. Yeah, we could get her back. We could turn back time.

She had to be out there. I refused to believe her death was a finality. I didn’t care what it took—what it cost. Heaven, hell, or whatever was in between. My soul was hers to take. Always hers .

I’d pull her back from the light, drag her from the gates of paradise if it meant she could rule this burning hell by my side.

The city burned. I lit it all. Every street. Every sign. Every lamp post or poster. Blew up every car and crumbled every sidewalk. I used every tendril of flame that had been simmering beneath my skin in preparation to powershare Steamfire with Amaia. Let the people of this cursed fucking city choke on the smoke of what they’d built. Let them suffocate on the dream they ripped from me—from her.

I couldn’t tell who followed at first. Couldn’t hear their footsteps over the roar in my chest. The smoke stung my eyes, and my vision blurred, but I didn’t wipe it away. Didn’t care if they saw it.

Reina limped behind me, her horse gone and yet to return. Her face was streaked with blood. Tomás leaned against her, barely upright, his body shuddering with each step. His wounds were bad, even after Reina had poured her magic into him. She closed her eyes, lips trembling as she forced herself to swallow down the pain of it all. I knew what she saw when she closed them, every time she blinked—Jessa, Amaia, her father.

The urge to unleash more destruction clawed at me, my vines writhing under my skin. I can still breathe, I can still fight. I wanted to force the world to its knees just as it had done to me. To Amaia.

Amaia. My Amaia. General Bennett. Amaia Drakos. She was gone. And I was still here.

Metal against asphalt drilled into the screams, pleads for help. Wrath trailed behind Tomoe, her eyes fixed on the smoke-streaked sky, scanning for something—someone—none of us could see.

Hunter walked with the weight of a thousand shattered lives on his shoulders. He didn’t cry, didn’t speak. He just moved, Serenity at his side, angry for him having to leave behind the ruins of the father he never wanted and the family he’d lost long before this war began.

“This is not how it ends,” Riley said, his tone so even, so certain it felt wrong. Abel and Millie flanked his side like shadows, both of them covered in blood—theirs and the fallen.

I froze, his boots crunching against the scorched ground as he stepped closer. Riley wasn’t supposed to sound like that—like me. When I turned to him, I didn’t see the calm, steady brother Amaia could always count on.

I saw a man ready to burn with me.

The others stopped walking. All of them looked toward him, but he only brushed past me, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. Determined. Dangerous.

Taking in the rest of their faces, I saw the same thing I felt: emptiness. Fury.

Not one of them looked back.

Let it burn. Let it all fucking burn.