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RHAEGAR

T he battlefield still reeks of scorched earth and spilled blood. The ash clings to my skin like a curse, coating my wings in soot, staining the corners of my mouth with the copper tang of fury.

Nora lies crumpled a few feet from me, her chest heaving, her fingers twitching as if they still remember the way they wrapped around my collar, dragging me into that kiss. That act—that desperate, soul-burning contact—wasn’t meant to be salvation. It was a gamble. A sacrifice.

And I took it.

The storm of her magic still churns in my chest. I can feel it—her essence, raw and untamed, binding to mine in tangled threads that shouldn’t exist. I was starving, my body fractured from the last fight with the Wraithborn. They would have torn her apart if she hadn’t offered herself. If she hadn’t whispered my name and kissed me like I was both her ruin and her redemption.

I crouch beside her, brushing strands of hair away from her cheek. She’s feverish. Pale. The bond between us pulses too hot, too alive.

"You didn’t have to," I whisper, my voice a rasp. “Godsdamn it, Nora…”

She stirs, a weak groan sliding past her lips. Her magic flickers inside me like coals refusing to go cold.

But we don’t have time.

Because the world responds to magic like sharks to blood.

The Unseen come with the wind.

Their shrieks split the sky before their bodies even form—shadows that twist and manifest from the crevices of the Ashen Wastes. Dozens of them, hunched, spindled horrors with eyes that glow blue and mouths that stretch too wide.

I gather Nora in my arms just as the first one lunges.

“Move!” I snarl at the remaining Purna, what’s left of them after the Wraithborn’s surprise onslaught. Ivenna staggers back, covered in grime and gore, her eyes wide as she watches the Unseen descend like a tide.

"This is your doing!" she screams at me.

I can watch them die, fly away and force my body but the reluctance in Nora’s eyes says it all. She still has emotions for them. Not hate… but maybe sentimentality.

I grit my teeth as I bellow, "This is no time for blaming! Help me fix it!"

And somehow, she does.

We fight side by side, purna magic exploding like wildfire, mine laced with the added strength of Nora’s gift. I tear through the Unseen like a blade through silk—my claws sinking into corrupted flesh, my wings slashing, my roars turning into something primal.

But it’s Nora’s magic in me that drives them back.

They feel it. They fear it.

She was always more than mortal.

I sense the shift when one of the Unseen tries to flee. They’re not winning. Not with me possessed by her flame, not with the Purna retaliating with every ounce of spite and grief.

By the time the dust settles, half the Purna lie broken on the ground.

And Ivenna stands in front of me, bloodied but alive, her sister curled in her arms.

“You saved her,” she says, eyes narrow.

“I didn’t do it for you.”

“I know.” She exhales. “But we’re not your enemies today.”

She pulls something from her cloak—a scroll, old and cracked, bound by the same sigils I saw etched around the artifact they spoke of.

“This map,” she says, “will lead you to the artifact.”

Nora stirs again behind me, and I clutch her tighter.

“I don’t trust you.”

“You shouldn’t,” Ivenna replies. “But I owe you. And more importantly—” Her gaze drifts to Nora. “I made a vow. I will repay what I owe.”

She steps closer, lowering her voice to a whisper that slices deep.

“Nora is dead. The one who walks now? She’s a storm waiting to happen. If you let that thing wake fully…” Her eyes burn into mine. “I’ll end her myself. I swear it.”

And with that, she turns.

The surviving Purna gather their wounded and vanish into the Wastes, their silence more dangerous than threats.

I’m left kneeling in the ash, holding the woman I can’t let go of, the woman I may one day have to destroy.

“I won’t lose you,” I whisper, my claws curling into the dirt.

Not to them.

Not to Medea.

Not to whatever this world wants you to become.

As her magic thrums inside me, I realize—I don’t care if it damns me.

She is mine.

And now, we walk alone into the ruin and rage of what comes next.