Page 40 of Chasing the Flame (The Sacred Flames Of Ruin #1)

When we step through the door it’s complete pandemonium. Averie is lit up in golden flames, her hair rippling like waves across the water. Streams of fire arc in every direction, sending flame upon the robed assailants.

“Averie—”

Her name catches in my throat. My heart stutters. She’s not broken, or hurt. She doesn’t need to be rescued.

She’s blazing.

“ Mother of magic ,” Dad breathes beside me, his voice barely audible. “That’s Ignivara ascension.”

Dahlia watches with narrowed eyes, lips curled in a smirk. “Told you she didn’t need saving.”

“You said no such thing,” Dad replies, huffing in indignation.

“Maybe not out loud…” She argues with a wicked grin.

I tune them out, completely enraptured by the sight before me. Averie is a goddess . The sounds of scuffling footsteps fill the air, and my attention slips to the sight before me.

Masses of robed figures dart in our direction, their shrieks like music to my ears. Dahlia darts past me, tossing blades that hum with every throw. Ten are struck down before we even make it halfway across the massive space.

She’s vicious, but efficient, never hesitating as she works to cut them down.

I spring into action using every bit of elemental power I can, sending shockwaves of wind and rock flying. It slices through the crowd like a knife in warm butter.

They soar in the air, collapsing in heaps on top of one another. Most were knocked unconscious by the impact, but for the stragglers… Dahlia flicks her fingers in their direction and they pass out instantly. She smirks at me, “Nothing a little dream binding can’t cure.”

With that she runs into the fight, tossing blades left and right. I follow behind her, ready to end this shit. I’m going to help Averie kill that sadistic asshole if it’s the last thing I fucking do.

I don’t bother keeping track of my father or Dahlia, I can’t afford to be distracted. My main focus is her.

I dodge and weave through the crowd, ignoring my beast’s bloodlust. Averie is the priority, and my job is to get across with minimal damage.

She’s doing just fine on her own, and it doesn’t appear she needs my help. I nearly burst into laughter at the huge ass fireball she sends toward Luke’s head. Shaking my head, I focus on clearing the mass of people.

I don’t make it twenty feet before I’m accosted again. A huge cloaked figure swipes at me, nearly clipping me in the head. Using veilstep, I bend space and time around me, dissolving into mist, and reappearing behind my attacker.

Grabbing hold of his neck, I jerk my hands in a clockwise rotation that snaps his neck. He’s gone in an instant. My eyes scan the mayhem, looking to where Averie just was. What I see sends a ripple of dread down my spine.

Flames thunder across the cavern in golden waves, each one pulsing with the rhythm of her breath. Averie is still tethered to the altar by shards of molten metal and crumbling stone, but her body—her soul—radiates like it’s no longer bound to this plane.

She isn’t just wielding magic.

She is the magic.

I try to get to her, but another wave of figures pours in from the east—more masked zealots, their mouths moving in unison with the ritual chant that still echoes through the chamber. “Exsurge, Ashbraith. Exsurge per flame et umbra…”

“Shut them the fuck up!” Dahlia snaps, leaping into the fray again, her twin scythes slicing symbols into the air. Every line she draws glows, then detonates in bright flashes that send the enemy flying.

Elliot joins her, casting sigils mid-sprint, magic snapping and crackling at his fingertips. “Keep the chanting broken! If they finish the call, it won’t just be Luke we’re dealing with!”

The robed cultists scream. They surge toward us in waves—but none of them touch me.

I’m already in motion, tearing through them, storm and earth in each strike. But my eyes never leave her.

Averie is fighting with everything she has, straining to gain control of the beast inside her. She shoots another blast of fire, screaming with the exertion. It covers Luke in a blanket of smoke and flames.

My pulse races, my lungs begging for air. The smoke clears, and Luke emerges through the fire, untouched. Shadows cling to him like armor, and the earth beneath his feet splits with every step. There are runes on his arms that glow black—not etched into skin, but burned into bone .

Dread coils in my stomach, and my heart stutters when Luke gives Averie a vicious smile.

He raises a hand—the flames surrounding Averie twist and she screams in pain. She jerks forward, suspended, the veins in her arms flickering gold and then red.

“You thought you could destroy me?” He says, his voice echoing through the cavern. “Here’s a taste of real power.”

Lightning cracks above, not from the sky, but from her.

Averie throws her head back in a defiance—her eyes glowing like molten lava. And then—a deafening roar.

Averie

They say you can’t run from fire… but what if it’s the only thing keeping you alive?

Because right now, it’s not just inside me.

It is me.

The magic tears through my chest like a second heartbeat, pulsing faster, harder, until I can’t hold it back anymore. My skin fractures, light searing through the cracks, until it shatters.

I fall to my knees—and rise a beast.

My body elongates, reshapes, shifts. Fur like obsidian sable spills over my limbs, etched with glowing cracks that pulse like veins of lava. My tail lashes once—coated in flame and trailing shadow. Fire erupts along my spine, crowning my head in a mane of living flame.

Two great onyx horns curl from my skull, jagged and black as death. And my eyes—

My eyes glow golden.

Everything stops.

Even Luke stumbles back.

“ No ,” he breathes. “You’re not supposed to shift…”

But I already have.

I lunge, faster than lightning, crashing into him with a roar that shakes the stone. He claws at me with shadows, but they melt against my burning hide. I slash with obsidian claws, tear through the last of his defenses, and drag him across the altar ruins like a ragdoll.

He reaches for a blade, but I pin him to the ground, my giant paw crushing his throat.

“You wanted a meek and willing vessel,” I growl, my voice thunderous and half-feral. “But you summoned a fucking goddess.”

I open my jaws, and fire pours out. Not a blast. A reckoning.

The flames consume him, curl around his screaming form, and devour Luke. He’s nothing but a steaming hunk of flesh, scarred beyond recognition.

A carcass where a monster once stood.

It’s over .

The beast in me recedes like a tide—but it takes my strength with it. I shift back mid-step, knees buckling, the world tilting sideways—and I fall.

Jettson catches me before I hit the ground. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice shaking. “I’ve got you. ”

He lifts me into his arms, my skin still warm to the touch, my head lolling against his chest. Dahlia and Elliot are already pushing forward, the cavern walls groaning with each second we stay.

“MOVE!!” Elliot barks, casting a final ward over an obsidian door as it begins to collapse behind us.

We run.

Jettson carries me through the winding tunnels, up the slope, through thorns, fog, and blood-slick roots. My consciousness dips in and out—snatches of light, fire, the feel of his heartbeat under my cheek.

And then—we break through the trees.

Jettson keeps running, Dahlia trailing behind. Elliot stays back, warding the cave entrance. Blackness flits at the corners of my eyes, never fully taking me under. I fight it, determined to see this through.

I latch my gaze onto the night sky, the treetops whizzing past overhead as Jettson picks up speed. I feel it the minute his body starts to relax. Then—I see it.

The house looms ahead. Old. Empty. Waiting.

Jettson lays me down gently on the grass just outside the overgrown thicket, his breath ragged. I rise slowly—my body trembling, smoke curling from my fingertips. I stare at the house. This place is the beginning and the end.

It sheltered my tormentor. It buried my truth. It watched me die again and again.

But now?

Now it’ll burn.

I lift a hand—still shaking—and ignite the front door with a flick of flame .

The fire catches instantly. The wood wants to burn. The house groans as it’s swallowed whole. Flames race along the porch, up the eaves, into every secret crevice.

I watch it collapse, piece by piece, like the ghost of who I used to be.

This place… it tried to kill me. Tried to cage me. But fire doesn’t stay caged. It doesn’t kneel. It consumes .

And now I understand.

The flame isn’t just destruction. It’s transformation. It’s the hunger for more —for truth, for freedom, for becoming.

It’s what’s always lived inside me.

What lived in every woman before me who dared to defy the dark.

I’m not running from it anymore.

I am the flame.

Jettson stands beside me, smoke curling in his hair, blood on his skin, eyes fixed on mine like he’s never seen me more clearly. “What now?” He asks, his voice hoarse but steady.

I smile—not because it’s over. But because it’s just the beginning.

“We chase the flame.”