Page 26

TWENTY-SIX

CASSIAN

T he sky cracked before the earth did.

Cassian tasted lightning on the wind before the first scream echoed through the mountainside— Hollowborn. Too close. Too many.

The weight of the sixth shard pressed against his hip, its magic pulsing in time with his heartbeat. It didn’t just hum anymore—it ached, bleeding through his skin like it was part of him now. Familiar. Dangerous. Calling.

Just like they were.

He glanced up the slope. Seraphine was ahead, silent, a silhouette carved from war and fire. Her glaive strapped tight to her back, her jaw locked in that way that meant she’d seen something she couldn’t yet say. She moved like she was holding herself together with thread.

She hadn’t spoken much since her vision. Since her confession. Since she’d looked at him like he was already gone.

Maybe… she’d been right to.

Gods, he thought, I didn’t want it to be true.

But it was. And time was a noose tightening around both their throats.

They were down to hours.

He couldn’t wait anymore.

Because it wasn’t just the prophecy repeating itself in the visions.

It was the feeling.

The way the shard responded to him more than her. The way the Hollow whispered his name louder every night. The way Malrik had gone quiet after handing him that last sliver of truth.

“The blade chooses the one who will seal it.”

Cassian wasn’t stupid.

He knew what it meant when fire felt like fate.

They reached the pass before dusk. The cliffside narrowed into a winding stone throat, veins of fire glowing faintly beneath it—like the land itself remembered its purpose. The entrance to the final temple loomed beyond.

Cassian stopped walking.

Every part of him screamed not to.

But some part of him— the part that already knew how this ended —stood still.

He looked back once more.

She hadn’t even realized he’d stopped.

Gods, she was beautiful. Even in armor. Even in blood and shadow. Especially then.

“Let me go first,” he said, his voice low.

She paused, turning. Her brow furrowed. “We’re not splitting up.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Not for long. I’ll clear the way.”

Seraphine frowned, stepping toward him, her instincts crackling like Whitefire behind her eyes. “Cassian?—”

But he was already moving.

He couldn’t let her stop him.

The ambush wasn’t a surprise.

He felt it in the air before the first creature moved. The Hollowborn didn’t screech anymore—they’d learned. Now they hunted quiet. Quick. Efficient.

But Cassian wasn’t afraid.

He was ready.

This was the moment. His moment.

He didn’t call for her.

Didn’t give her time to catch up.

Because if she reached him before it began, she’d stop him.

He couldn’t let that happen.

He tightened his grip on the shard. Let the fire crawl higher, deeper. Let it fill him, own him.

This was his choice.

It had to be.

Now. Before they found the last shard. Before the blade was whole and she had hope again. Before she looked at him and saw something worth saving when he was already halfway gone.

The Hollowborn surged from the shadows.

Cassian turned?—

He u nleashed the storm.

Flames exploded from his arms, spiraling up the tunnel walls in arcs of pure wrath. The first wave of creatures didn’t even scream—they were ash before they hit the ground.

His sword was in his hand a second later, singing through the air like it remembered blood. The shard glowed brighter on his chest, feeding into the magic, into him.

He felt alive. Terrifyingly alive.

Because the Hollow inside him had stopped fighting.

It started helping.

For the first time, it didn’t whisper in riddles. It sang with his fire, poured strength into his bones. Not control. Not command.

Just... acceptance.

The creatures came in waves. Bodies twisted into mockeries of life, clawing, biting, shrieking in their guttural non-language. Some were fast. Some were brutal.

Cassian met them all.

With fire, steel, and the fury of someone who finally knew.

He didn’t dodge anymore.

He took the hits. Let the blood run. He fought like the end was already written.

Because it was.

It had always been him.

He had the bloodline, the mark, the fire.

He had the death.

He heard her shout his name behind him. Close. Too close.

Cassian turned, face bloodied, hand shaking. “Go back.”

“Fuck you ,” Seraphine growled, storming toward him, her glaive igniting. “I told you—we finish this together! ”

He grabbed her, hauled her behind a collapsed column, and kissed her.

Hard. Desperate. Final.

She pulled back, wide-eyed. “Cass?—?”

“I’m sorry.”

“What—what the hell are you doing?—?”

“I saw it,” he said. “In Mirael’s vision. In the blade. In the flame. It’s me, Sera. I’m the price. I’m what seals the Hollow.”

“No.” Her voice broke. “No, you don’t get to decide that.”

“It already decided me. ” His hands cupped her face. “You have to go. You have to finish this.”

“I can’t! ”

“You will. ” He pressed the shard into her palm. “Because you’re the only one who can lead them. But this? Ending the Hollow? That’s on me. It always was.”

Tears streamed down her face now. “I knew. Gods, I knew. But I didn’t want to believe it.”

“I know.” His voice cracked. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. Because I needed you to fight with hope, not grief.”

She shook her head violently. “There has to be another way?—”

“There’s not.” He smiled. Soft. Sad. “You don’t get it, Sera. For the first time in my life… I’m doing something that matters. For someone that matters.”

She tried to hold him, but he stepped back.

The Hollowborn surged again.

Cassian turned toward them, flames erupting from his skin.

“Run,” he said.

“Screw you,” she choked.

“Run— please. ”

Cassian stood between her and the darkness, the stormfire in him igniting to its fullest. And as the last of her light disappeared from view?—

He closed his eyes and let go.