Page 19 of We Were Meant to Burn (Ashes and Ruin Saga #1)

Hurricane season was around the corner and would pin us down in place if we weren’t out of Endrina by the end of the month. Malakai had increased our pace, a feat that was slowly becoming easier to manage.

Three months of walking daily through the treacherous terrain was an antidote to the months I’d spent in confinement. I was finally seeing the fruits of my daily labors, so I didn’t mind the quicker pace.

I did mind the relentless heat, though. The jungle was a suffocating embrace of damp air and thick foliage, but nothing compared to the sheer misery of the insects.

We had to have been close to a water source, because the mosquitoes had only recently become my mortal enemies. They feasted on me like I was their personal blood bag. Their razor-thin bites left swollen welts along my arms and neck. I swatted at them in vain, but for every one I killed, five more took its place.

Xixi did her best to help, snapping up the tiny bloodsuckers with sharp little teeth. But she was small, and the jungle was vast, and the swarm was endless.

A sharp prick stung the inside of my elbow. Without thinking, I smacked the spot—hard.

A sickening crunch met my palm.

I pulled my hand away to find a smear of yellow-green guts glistening against my skin.

Disgusting.

“Ugh—gross!”

I flicked my hand, shaking the sticky remains off my fingers, but it only made the mess worse, smearing the crushed bug across my palm.

Xixi, drawn by my distress, chittered and leaped from my shoulder to investigate. She sniffed at my hand before looking up at me with a little coo, as if laughing at my suffering.

“Yeah, yeah, very funny,”

I grumbled, rubbing my hand against my pants to rid myself of the insect’s remains.

The jungle responded with a sharp, shrill buzz.

Another bite flared against my collarbone.

Then another.

I slapped at my shoulder, cursing under my breath.

“Nix,”

Malakai called from a few paces ahead, half-turning toward me. His sharp gaze flickered to my frantic swatting.

"You all right back there?”

“No!”

I snapped, swiping at another mosquito near my ear.

"I’m being eaten alive!”

Malakai’s lips twitched.

"Shocking,”

he drawled.

"The Nightshade can’t handle a few bugs.”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"I will stab you, Malakai.”

His grin widened.

"And here I was thinking we were starting to get along.”

I huffed, rubbing at my arm where a welt had begun to rise.

"You could have warned me about the damn bugs.”

“I did,”

Malakai said, reaching into his pack as he slowed to walk beside me.

"I told you to coat yourself in crushed mint leaves this morning.”

I groaned.

"You said it was for the smell.”

“That too,”

he admitted, pulling out a bundle of the fragrant leaves. He handed it to me, his fingers brushing mine briefly.

"Rub this on your skin. Might keep them off for a bit.”

I hesitated, then took the bundle and crumpled a leaf between my fingers, the cool scent filling my lungs as I smeared the crushed plant along my arms.

“See?”

Malakai said, watching me with that knowing glint in his violet eyes.

"Not so bad, is it?”

I rolled my eyes and kept walking, but the corner of my lips twitched.

I’d never admit it, but the mint actually did help.

The second Xixi darted from my shoulder, I knew something was wrong.

One moment, she was a warm weight against my neck, purring softly. The next, she sprang from me, her small form vanishing into the underbrush in a blur of red and blue.

“Hey—where are you going?”

I called after her, my brow furrowing.

Then something stabbed the side of my neck.

“OW—damn it—”

I swatted at the pain, but my fingers met only open air. The sting bloomed into a deep, searing throb.

“What now, princess?”

Malakai called over his shoulder, amusement laced through his voice.

But I wasn’t listening.

I rubbed at the welt forming on my neck, my senses sharpening as a sound—faint at first—began to fill the air. A steady, mechanical buzz. My breath stilled. Nothing nature-born made a sound like that.

My gaze snapped upward, scanning the thick canopy of trees. The faint glow of sunlight breaking through the leaves painted the sky in shifting shades of green—but something darker moved between the gaps.

A swarm.

Hundreds of black-winged bodies clustered together, their sleek metallic shells catching the filtered light.

My stomach flipped. A chill coursed through my veins, dread settling heavy in my bones.

“Malakai,”

I whispered, my voice hoarse. I took a slow step back.

Finally catching on to the shift in my tone, Malakai turned toward me. His eyes caught on something, and he plucked something straight from the air.

He examined the struggling insect between his fingers, his face twisting with recognition. His shoulders went rigid.

“Fuck,”

he murmured, his voice barely above a breath.

The buzz grew louder.

Goosebumps prickled across my arms, and I felt the telltale heat of my marca burning against my ribs. A warning. A threat.

Malakai’s grip tightened around the insect, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Those are Capitol trackerWasps.”

Cold panic swept through me, rooting me to the spot.

Aguatitlan. The Capitol.

No. No.

“I thought tech didn’t work properly in the jungle,”

I rasped, my voice hushed, my mind scrambling for an explanation.

Malakai’s eyes darted to the sky, his jaw set.

"It doesn’t.”

“So, what’s that mean for us?”

His eyes were pinned to the sky as he said, “It means we’re truly and royally fucked. Run!”

I barely had time to process his words before the swarm moved.

Like a wave breaking against the shore, the wasps plummeted from the canopy, their bodies humming with unnatural speed.

Straight for us.

“RUN!”

I shouted, my instincts taking over.

I spun, ready to dive headlong into the jungle—but something stopped me.

Kerun.

He stood frozen, his mouth slightly agape, his eyes locked onto the descending horde.

Fear. Paralyzing, bone-deep fear.

I didn’t think—I grabbed a fistful of his shirt and yanked.

“Move, Kerun!”

I snarled, dragging him forward, my own feet barely finding purchase in the damp earth. He stumbled but didn’t resist, his legs finally catching up with the panic in his wide eyes.

My heart thundered in my chest as I pushed forward, dragging him behind me.

But something made me glance back.

And what I saw made me stop cold.

The others weren’t behind me.

Lian, Elías, Malakai, Dom—they had started running, but the wasps were too fast. The swarm had descended, breaking the group apart, forcing them into staggered, desperate fights.

Malakai was the farthest away, his silver-threaded whip snapping through the air, a bright, fluid arc of magic cutting through the dark mass of wasps. They dove at him relentlessly, stinging any exposed skin they could reach. His jaw was clenched tight, his movements sharp, controlled—but I could see it, the growing tension in his shoulders. He was slowing down.

Off to the side, Dom swung wildly, batting at the wasps with his bare hands, cursing between gritted teeth. He staggered backward, swiping at his arms where welts were already forming.

Then I saw them.

Lian was on the ground, curled into himself. No—no, no, no—

Elías was already there, diving headfirst through the horde. He threw himself over Lian’s still form, shielding him with his body as he swatted frantically at the swarm.

Shouts reached my ears. My marca burned hot against my ribs.

I cursed under my breath. I have to go back.

But—

I turned to Kerun, my heart hammering. I couldn’t risk him coming back out to fight with me. I wouldn’t do it. But I couldn’t just leave him out in the open either.

Damn it.

I scanned the jungle, searching. There—a fallen wax palm, massive and rotting, its thick trunk stretched along the ground. Beneath it, a hollow space, just large enough.

“Get under that tree,”

I barked, grabbing Kerun’s wrist and pulling him forward.

He hesitated, eyes flicking back toward the fight.

“Now, Kerun!”

I shoved him into the hole, gripping his shirt.

"Stay here. Don’t move. Don’t make a sound. I’m going to help the others.”

“Nix—”

But I was already gone.

Adrenaline and fear burned through my veins, igniting my muscles with a desperate, reckless speed. I leapt over roots and ducked under low-hanging branches, my lungs burning as I forced myself faster, faster—I could see them now.

The wasps were everywhere. A thick, writhing black cloud, darting in and out, stinging, slicing.

Malakai fought like a demon, his silver whip cutting through the air with lethal precision, but there were too many. They dove at him, relentless, sharp wings flashing as they struck his arms, his neck, his back. His face twisted, not with fear—but with pain.

I gritted my teeth and reached for my knife.

I’m coming.

A rush of heat tore through my veins, scorching, untamed—alive.

The collar around my neck, the wretched thing that had kept my Fuegador magic bound, seared my skin, burning into the delicate flesh beneath. It was agony. It was ecstasy. Every hair on my body stood on end, and for the first time in months, I felt power surging through me, unchained, wild.

Like a dam breaking, my magic roared to life, filling every inch of me with fire. My muscles trembled, my fingers curled into fists, and then—

Flames thundered from my palms.

The trackerWasps shifted, sensing the imbalance of power, sensing me. They turned in unison, abandoning the others, drawn to the heat, to the flare of magic now radiating from my skin.

Fine.

Let them come.

I flung out my hands, sending a column of searing red fire into the horde. They shrieked as they burned, their metallic wings disintegrating midair. Spurts of ice-blue flame licked into the sky, a deadly dance of red and blue, feeding off each other, consuming everything in their path.

Some of the wasps fell to the jungle floor, writhing before turning to dust. Others exploded in bursts of ember and smoke, the air thick with the scent of charred exoskeletons. They were fast—but my fire was faster. I followed their movement, predicting where they’d dodge, where they’d strike. Dry branches caught fire, flames leaping hungrily across the canopy, feeding the inferno.

Black smoke billowed around me, clouding my vision, but I didn’t need to see—I could feel them.

Pain ripped through me as sharp stingers pierced my skin, one after the other. The wasps dove for my exposed flesh, sinking their venom into my arms, my neck, my thighs.

Heat coiled inside me, twisting, tightening, growing.

I threw my head back and screamed.

Magic detonated.

Flames burst from my body, engulfing me entirely, swallowing the wasps that dared to get too close. The jungle glowed in hues of gold and blue, as if a second sun had been born within the trees.

For one glorious, blinding moment, I was the fire.

The mechanical buzzing that had filled the air since the start of the attack faded into nothing.

Silence fell.

Around me, the wasps lay in heaps of smoldering ash. The heat that had once licked at my skin receded, and the remaining flames flickering along my arms guttered out. My hair sizzled, the scent of burnt strands mingling with smoke.

I swayed on my feet, panting, chest heaving with exertion.

Something cold and heavy settled on my shoulders. Dread.

That was more power than I had ever wielded before. More than I should have been able to.

I stared at my hands. My fingers trembled.

Hands that had just unleashed an inferno strong enough to turn steel wasps to ash. Hands that had scorched the jungle floor, blackened the trees. Hands that had—

A shudder raked through me.

Something was happening to me.

Something dangerous.

Something I could not control.

I tucked my fingers into a fist, willing the tremors to stop.

A monster. That’s what I was. This much I knew. Mother had made sure of it.

My breathing came fast and uneven, my body still thrumming with residual heat from the fire that had coursed through my veins only moments before. The jungle still smoked around us, the air thick with the acrid scent of burnt flesh—if you could even call the Capitol’s twisted creations flesh.

Then, as if a candlewick had finally burned to its end, the inferno I’d unleashed abruptly died.

The flames didn’t sputter or smolder like normal fire. One second, they raged—a violent, all-consuming hunger swallowing the jungle whole—and the next, they were simply gone. Snuffed out, as if something had severed my connection to the blaze itself.

What remained was destruction.

The trees closest to me were nothing more than blackened skeletons, their leaves turned to ash. The jungle floor was a graveyard of charred roots and melted foliage, steam rising in soft hisses from the earth. The air carried a ghost of heat, like the last exhale of a dying breath.

I swallowed. My magic had never done that before.

I flexed my fingers, but the warmth that had once curled around my veins was absent. Hollow. A deep unease slithered through me.

I forced my gaze away from my hands and scanned the area, my instincts demanding I check for more threats. But the wasps were gone—what was left of them lay in scattered heaps of charred metal and ash.

Satisfied we were no longer in immediate danger, I turned my attention to the group.

Malakai had collapsed onto the forest floor, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. His arms were riddled with welts, his skin blotchy and swollen from the venom. Yet even in his current state, his expression remained impassive, the only hint of pain the slight furrow in his brow.

Dom had sunk to his knees, bracing himself with a shaking hand. His face and arms were pocked with stings, his usually sharp features drawn tight with pain. But he was breathing.

Then I saw Lian.

He lay motionless on the ground, his body eerily still.

A cold fist clenched around my heart.

I rushed forward, my knees hitting the dirt beside him just as Elías scrambled off his chest, his hands glowing a bright green as he pressed them over Lian’s sternum.

“Please,”

Elías whispered, his voice hoarse, desperate. He closed his eyes, sweat beading at his temple as the healing light from his hands seeped into Lian’s skin.

"Please work.”

Lian didn’t move.

Elías’s face twisted in anguish, his fingers digging into Lian’s shoulders as he poured more Curador magic into him. The large boils along Lian’s throat and collarbone began to shrink, the purple bruising receding beneath the warmth of healing light.

“Elías, stop,”

I said, my voice sharp, commanding.

"That’s enough. Look—he’s breathing.”

Elías’s eyes snapped open, wild with fear, but he followed my gaze. Lian’s chest rose—slow, rhythmic, steady.

A sob wracked Elías’s frame. His hands hovered over Lian as if afraid that if he let himself believe it, Lian would slip away again.

“Elías,”

I said softly, but he didn’t hear me. His whole world had narrowed to the man beneath him.

Elías’s shoulders sagged in exhaustion, his skin pallid from the magic he’d expended. But he still didn’t pull away. His hands trembled as they cupped Lian’s face, his thumbs brushing over his cheekbones.

Lian’s lashes fluttered.

Then, with a soft groan, his eyes opened.

A weak smile ghosted across his lips as he took in the sight of Elías hovering over him. “Li-Li,”

Elías choked, his voice breaking.

"You’re alive.”

“You’re crushing me,”

Lian rasped.

“Deal with it,”

Elías muttered before sealing his mouth over Lian’s.

Something in my chest twisted, then loosened, the tension I’d been carrying since the fight dissolving at the rawness of the moment.

It was about damn time.

A slow grin crept onto my lips, and I rose to my feet, slipping away to give them privacy.

For once, something in this goddess-forsaken jungle had gone right.

My gaze went back to where Malakai lay sprawled on the ground, but instead of his chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm, his body had gone eerily still.

A cold rush of panic shot through me.

I rushed to his side, my heart hammering against my ribs as I dropped to my knees. His skin was red and inflamed, welts the size of my knuckles marring his face and arms. His lips had swelled to twice their size, his breath coming in short, barely there, wheezing bursts.

His eyes fluttered open at my approach, unfocused and glassy. His breath hitched, and for a moment, I thought he was about to say something. Instead, his gaze locked onto mine, as if grounding himself to the sight of me.

I swallowed hard and took his hand between my palms, squeezing tight.

"Just hold on,”

I whispered.

"You’re going to be okay.”

I wasn’t sure if I was comforting him or myself.

His eyes flickered, but his grip remained weak, his strength draining fast. The tension in my chest coiled tighter, suffocating. Then, just as quickly, his head lolled to the side, his body going limp.

No. No, no, no.

“Elías!”

I shouted, my voice cracking.

"Come quick!”

The others turned to me, eyes wide with alarm, but Elías was already moving. He scrambled over, sliding to his knees beside me, nearly falling over in his rush. His fingers trembled as he hovered his hands over Malakai’s torso.

“You’re going to be okay,”

Elías murmured in a reassuring tone, more for himself than Malakai, I suspected. He closed his eyes, calling upon his Curador magic, but almost immediately, his body sagged. A sheen of sweat beaded across his forehead, and his fingers curled inward as if grasping at power that wasn’t there.

He had nothing left to give.

A realization struck me then—sharp and undeniable.

I’d just wielded an inferno that should have drained me dry. I should’ve been on my hands and knees, gasping for breath, trembling with exhaustion. But I wasn’t.

I felt fine.

More than fine.

Power still hummed beneath my skin, restless and coiling, waiting to be called upon again. I should have left me weak. To make matters worse, the collar around my neck should have prevented me from accessing my magic in the first place.

So why did I feel like a well with no bottom?

“Elías,”

I said, pushing aside my unease. I offered him my hand.

"Siphon me. You’ve already given enough.”

Elías froze, his wide eyes darting between my face and my outstretched hand, wary. “Nix, I—”

“Just do it,”

I insisted.

For a moment, he hesitated. Then, slowly, he took my hand.

The second our skin touched, something shifted.

A pull.

Like a thread unraveling from my core, spinning outward. A sensation both foreign and strangely familiar, like stretching a muscle I hadn’t used in years. Energy thrummed through me as Elías siphoned from my life force, pulling what he needed. It didn’t hurt. Not like I expected it to. It was an odd, tingling sensation, as if he was reaching inside me and drawing water from an endless spring.

Green light flared from his hands and spread across Malakai’s body.

The welts receded, shrinking until only faint pink marks remained. The swelling in his face ebbed, his breath growing steady, stronger. His fingers twitched, then curled loosely to grip my hand.

His chest rose and fell in a smooth, even rhythm.

His eyes cracked open, the violet irises hazy with exhaustion. But he was awake. Alive.

Relief hit me so hard my vision blurred.

His gaze sought mine, and for the briefest moment, something softened in his expression. He parted his lips, but no sound came—only the ghost of a smile, barely there, before his eyes slid shut once more.

But not in pain.

In sleep.

He was okay.

I exhaled shakily, pulling my hand back as Elías swayed beside me. He looked drained, his body trembling with exertion.

“Dom, next,”

I said, my voice steady now, the panic ebbing. I turned toward Dom, who still sat slumped against a tree, his breaths labored but his glare sharp.

Elías tensed beside me. “No.”

I blinked at him. “What?”

He shook his head, eyes wary, but there was something else there, too—fear.

"Siphoning that much power is too dangerous,”

he said.

"One person, fine. But two? No way.”

I studied him, trying to understand.

"I feel fine. I still have more—”

“That’s not the point,”

he snapped. He gestured at my hands, at the jungle around us.

"You should be exhausted right now. You shouldn’t even be standing, Nix! But you just burned down half the damn jungle, and now you’re saying you still have more to give?”

He shook his head.

“It wasn’t half the jungle,”

I murmured, suddenly sheepish.

“That’s not normal,”

he said, more forcefully this time.

He was right. It wasn’t.

I didn’t know what was happening to me.

But Dom was suffering, and I could help.

I lifted my chin, set my jaw.

"Elías, please. I want to help,”

I said, keeping my voice level.

"We don’t have time to argue.”

Elías searched my face, his brows knit with concern. Finally, after what felt like forever, he exhaled through his nose and nodded in abject agreement.

Dom flinched the moment I stepped toward him, his body tensing as if expecting a blow. His usual scowl was still in place, but the subtle shift in his posture gave him away—he wasn’t just wary. He was afraid.

I exhaled through my nose and raised my hands in mock surrender.

"I come in peace.”

Elías shot me a pointed look before he grabbed my hand and knelt beside Dom, his fingers already glowing with that familiar emerald light. I watched as the healing magic flowed from his hands, tendrils of energy curling up Dom’s arms and over his battered skin. I felt the tug again, deep inside me, that strange, unnatural well of power siphoning into Elías as he worked. This time, the pull was stronger. It still didn’t hurt.

It should have hurt.

And for the first time, I wondered just how deep my well went.

Dom exhaled sharply as the swelling in his face subsided, the welts along his arms smoothing out until his skin was once again unblemished. His whole body sagged with relief, his head tilting back against the tree trunk.

Elías sat back on his heels, his face pale, sweat dotting his forehead. He was swaying slightly, exhaustion taking its toll. I was feeling it now, too—a sluggish pull at the edges of my awareness, like the slow drag of molasses through my veins. Not pain. Not fatigue. But something was missing. Something I couldn’t name.

“Where’s Kerun?”

Elías asked, his voice hoarse with strain. His dark eyes darted around the trees, searching.

“Safe,”

I said, but the word felt heavy on my tongue. I pointed toward the fallen wax palm where I’d tucked him away.

"I told him to hide in a hollow. I’ll get him.”

Elías frowned.

"You need to rest. You just helped heal two people, Nix. That’s—”

He shook his head, looking at me like I was something foreign.

"I’ve never seen anyone do that.”

Neither had I.

And that terrified me.

Something had shifted in my magic, something deep and primal, something I couldn’t explain. I’d felt it the moment the flames had consumed me, when my body had burned but hadn’t turned to ash, when the fire hadn’t drained me but fed me. And now, with every life I touched, every ounce of power I gave away, I felt it more keenly.

That gnawing hunger.

I shoved the thought aside. I wasn’t going to dwell on it. Not now.

“We should set up camp for the night,”

I said instead, already turning toward the trees.

"The others need time to recover. And you—”

I flicked my gaze to Elías.

"You’re useless to us if you burn yourself out.”

Elías huffed but didn’t argue.

I didn’t wait for more protests before heading toward the hollow. My legs were heavy, but not from exhaustion. Not entirely. The craving coiled in my gut, an absence, a hollow space that had nothing to do with hunger. The magic I had burned through, the power I had given away—it left a void in me, aching and restless. It had tasted so sweet, so intoxicating, and now . . .

Now it was gone.

I clenched my jaw and pushed forward.

I wasn’t going to think about it.

I wasn’t.

I found Kerun exactly where I’d left him, curled up in the hollow beneath the fallen wax palm. Relief punched through me so hard it left me breathless. Draped across his shoulders in a bundle of red and blue fur was Xixi.

She chirped at me, a soft, mewling sound, before launching herself from Kerun’s lap and bounding toward me. She landed light as a whisper at my feet, rubbing against my ankles with an unmistakable air of apology.

“Trust me, it was better you took off when you did,”

I murmured, crouching to scratch behind her oversized ears, the familiar silkiness of her fur grounding me.

"Thank you for coming back, though, and staying with Kerun.”

Better she hadn’t been caught in the wildfire I’d summoned.

The thought crawled over my skin, cold and sharp. I still didn’t understand what had happened back there. That surge of power—it hadn’t been fire the way I knew it, the way I wielded it. I’d commanded flame my whole life, but that? That had been something else. Something unrestrained. Something insatiable.

I swallowed against the unease burning at the back of my throat and forced myself to focus. No time to fall apart. I turned to Kerun.

"Come on, let’s get you back to camp.”

The next few hours passed in a haze of exhaustion and tension, but the unease never left me. It lingered at the edges of my mind, waiting. Watching. Like embers buried beneath the ash, ready to ignite at the first sign of air.

Dom was awake. Barely. He looked like shit and sat slumped against a tree beside Kerun, their voices hushed, too low for me to catch. Not that I needed to. I knew they were talking about me. I felt it in the way Dom’s gaze flicked toward me when he thought I wasn’t looking, in the way Kerun’s brows pulled tight, his face young and uncertain, caught somewhere between worry and confusion.

Let them talk.

I had bigger problems.

Lian and Malakai were recovering too, though Elías had ordered them both to stay put. Not that Malakai gave a damn—he was already sharpening his sword, dragging the whetstone along the blade in slow, deliberate strokes.

I didn’t have the patience to sit still and pretend nothing was wrong, so I busied myself with gathering firewood. It gave me something to do, something to focus on beyond the weight of their stares, beyond the gnawing thing in my chest that felt too much like doubt. I kept close to camp, mindful of the jungle and the things that lurked in its shadows, though I wasn’t sure what was worse—the beasts with claws and fangs or the monsters that lived in my own head.

Xixi helped, bounding through the underbrush with an enthusiasm I couldn’t even pretend to muster, carrying twigs in her tiny mouth like she thought she was saving the world.

Once Xixi and I had gathered enough wood, I dumped the bundle in the center of camp. I stood over it, squared my shoulders, and focused.

Fire had always come easily to me. It was the one thing that never failed. Never faltered.

I reached for my magic.

Nothing.

The power that had burned through me hours ago, flooding my veins like wildfire, was gone. Not just drained. Gone.

A chill crept over my skin. I stiffened, my pulse hammering as I tried again, fingers twitching as I willed the flames to surface.

Still nothing. A void where the fire should have been.

“I don’t understand,”

I growled, my hands curling into fists.

"Why isn’t it working?”

Again, I stretched out my hands, forcing my will into the empty space where my power should have been. Willing it to spark, to burn, to rage.

But it didn’t.

Elías watched me carefully, his gaze shifting from wary to something closer to concern.

"Maybe it’s that thing,”

he said, nodding toward the collar still fastened around my throat.

My hand flew to the wretched device, fingers curling around the cool metal. A shudder crawled through me. I bit back a curse.

"Then why doesn’t it work all the time?”

I demanded.

"How come I can use my magic sometimes and not others? It doesn’t make sense!”

My voice came sharp, frayed at the edges, barely my own.

It wasn’t just the collar. It couldn’t be. Magic didn’t just disappear. Not like this. Not without a reason.

Elías flinched. Just a slight step back, but enough to send guilt clawing up my throat. I exhaled sharply and dragged a hand down my face.

“I’m sorry,”

I muttered.

"It’s not your fault. I didn’t mean to yell.”

Elías relaxed—barely. He still kept a careful distance, like he wasn’t sure if I’d snap again.

"Li-Li says tech isn’t perfect,”

he said after a pause.

"It has boundaries. Maybe you can only use your magic when there’s too much of it for the collar to suppress. Like . . . pressure building in a pipe.”

I ground my teeth. It made sense. Too much sense. And that made it worse.

Because it meant I had even less control than I thought.

“Maybe,”

I muttered, but I didn’t want to believe it. Not really.

My skin prickled, restless energy buzzing beneath it, a reminder of everything I couldn’t reach. My mind was too loud, thoughts pressing in, refusing to be ignored. The knowing looks. The murmured conversations. Malakai’s unreadable stares.

I needed space. Air. Distance.

“I’m going for a walk,”

I said, to no one in particular. I didn’t wait for Elías to protest. I just turned and strode into the jungle.

Xixi darted after me, her little paws whisper-quiet against the forest floor.

I had no idea where I was going.

I just knew I needed to be anywhere but here.

Walking didn’t help. Not that I’d expected it to. The anxiety still gnawed at the edges of my mind, sinking its teeth in deeper with every step.

Total shocker.

Eventually, I gave up and perched on a fallen tree not far from camp. The jungle stretched endlessly before me, bathed in the dim hues of twilight. A molten orange sun bled into the horizon, casting long, jagged shadows over the treetops, their leaves shimmering like gold in the fading light.

But all I saw was fire.

Not the soft, flickering kind that warmed campsites or crackled in hearths.

No, the fire in my mind was a raging, all-consuming inferno.

Flames licking up the trunks. Smoke choking the sky. Heat pressing in, thick and suffocating.

My fingers curled against my palms, nails biting into skin. It wasn’t real. Not now. But it had been.

And next time—

I swallowed hard, forcing my gaze away from the horizon. There wouldn’t be a next time. There couldn’t be. I had to get a grip before—

Before what?

Before I lost control again? Before I hurt someone?

I exhaled sharply, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes until the phantom flames burned away.

It was fine. I was fine.

I just had to make sure it stayed that way.

My fingers found Xixi’s soft fur, running absently along the curve of her spine. She purred against my thigh, oblivious to the war raging inside me. I clung to the sensation, grounding myself in the gentle rise and fall of her tiny chest, in the warmth of something that wasn’t ruin.

My stomach coiled tight as I kicked my feet over the edge of the tree, staring out at the jungle beyond. The air here smelled fresh—thick with earth and rain, untouched by soot and iron. But my mind couldn’t reconcile the two images. No matter how hard I tried, the smoke still clung to my lungs, the phantom taste of ash sour on my tongue.

Without thinking, my fingers drifted to my throat, tracing the edge of the collar. Cold, unyielding metal met my touch.

I didn’t resent the damn thing as much as I let on. Sure, it was frustrating that I could use my magic sometimes and couldn’t at others.

It also terrified me to think of myself as some kind of ticking time bomb just waiting to explode the moment the collar couldn’t contain me.

But the real reason I hated it, was that it was a reminder of my imprisonment. My lack of freedom.

Because the truth was this: I had never been free.

I was a tool. A weapon. A pawn in a game I had never even questioned.

My jaw clenched as I yanked my hand away, disgust curling in my gut. The weight of it pressed down on me, heavier than the steel around my neck. The ache in my chest spread to my limbs, exhaustion settling deep in my bones.

I was so damn tired.

Tired of thinking. Tired of fighting.

Tired of being something I had never chosen to be.

Laughter trickled through the trees behind me.

I turned my head just enough to glance back at the camp, my gaze catching on the figures silhouetted against the firelight. They sat in a loose circle, eating, talking, their exhaustion from earlier eased by the warmth of shared company.

Even Dom, whose usual scowl had softened, was engaged in the conversation, his lips twitching with amusement. It was strange to see him like that—like he wasn’t drowning in resentment and grief.

Like he wasn’t drowning because of me.

I had no place among them.

Not when I was the reason for Dom’s misery. Not when I had been made into the very thing he hated most.

I turned away, swallowing against the sharp pang in my chest, refusing to acknowledge it. I had long since stopped expecting joy, but I hadn’t realized how much it would sting to witness it from the outside. To know it was something I would never truly be a part of.

The air shifted behind me, sending heat curling down my spine.

I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

My marca pulsed with warmth, betraying his presence.

Dom.

The jungle hummed around us, alive with the sounds of the night. The rustling of leaves, the distant call of macaws, the rhythmic chirr of cicadas—it all blended into an eerie lullaby against the heavy silence stretching between me and Dom.

“You could have left us,”

he said, quiet but firm.

I didn’t turn right away. I kept my gaze on the horizon, where the last sliver of sun had been swallowed by the endless sprawl of trees and shadows.

The thought of running had crossed my mind more times than I could count. Long before everything that had happened.

Long before the Capitol trackerWasps. Before Malakai had been stung nearly to death. Before I had seen Lian’s body lying still in the dirt.

I had thought about it so many times. But it didn’t cross my mind that day. Not once.

Not when it would have only been too easy to do it. Not when they were distracted. When they had bigger worries than just me.

But I hadn’t.

Finally, I glanced over my shoulder. Dom stood behind me, arms crossed, his face unreadable except for the faint crease between his brows.

“But I didn’t,”

I said simply.

“Why?”

His gaze sharpened, but he didn’t sound angry. Just . . . curious.

I sighed and turned back to the jungle.

"Because you all needed help.”

My fingers skimmed over Xixi’s fur.

"And I wanted to do something good for a change.”

The words tumbled out before I could stop them, raw and unguarded. They felt strange on my tongue. A confession I hadn’t meant to make.

The silence stretched long enough that I almost thought Dom had left. That he’d had enough of me, of this conversation, of everything I represented.

But when I turned, he was still there. Watching me.

A lump rose in my throat, thick and unwelcome, but I didn’t swallow it down. I didn’t shove it into the locked box where I kept the things that could be used against me.

I forced myself to keep going.

“I’m sorry,”

I whispered, my voice barely louder than the wind threading through the trees.

"For scaring you. For what I am. For what my mother did to your family.”

The words scraped their way out, raw and unsteady. But with each one, the weight in my chest eased. Just a little. Just enough.

I exhaled shakily and curled in on myself, pulling Xixi into my lap so I could press my face against Xixi’s warm side.

"I don’t blame you for hating me,”

I admitted.

"I’m a monster.”

The confession landed between us like a stone dropped into still water. The ripples spread, unseen but felt, cutting through me as shame twisted deep.

And the worst part?

I hated that I wanted him to disagree.

Mother had molded me into this. A blade, a weapon, something to be wielded, to be feared. A creature built for war.

But I wasn’t sure I wanted to be any of those things anymore.

I wasn’t sure of anything.

Dom didn’t speak. The quiet stretched on, pulling tighter around me, suffocating in its weight.

I braced myself for the look I’d seen in so many eyes before—fear, disgust, resignation.

The moment he gave it to me, I’d know.

I’d remember exactly what I was.

But when he finally spoke, his voice lacked the venom I’d been bracing for.

“No. You’re not a monster,”

he said at last. His arms uncrossed, his stance shifting slightly, like he was reconsidering something.

"But you are powerful. So powerful that the collar around your neck can’t even contain you all the time.”

I went still. The words sank their hooks in deep, sharp, and unwanted. I had been trying not to think about that.

“That makes you dangerous,”

Dom continued.

"There’s a difference.”

A chill crawled up my spine.

Dangerous.

The word should have made me feel strong. Invincible, even.

Instead, it left me feeling hollow.

I swallowed against the dryness in my throat, but before I could find the words to respond, Dom turned and started walking back toward camp, his expression unreadable.

I let out a slow, unsteady breath. The collar sat heavy around my throat, a cruel reminder of what Elías had said. That it had limits. That it wasn’t enough.

There was something inside me—something bigger than I had ever imagined, something clawing its way out whether I wanted it to or not.

And that terrified me.

With a heavy sigh, I turned back toward the jungle, watching as the last of the twilight bled into darkness.

Dom stopped behind me. “Coming?”

I twisted to look at him, arching a brow. “Really?”

He rolled his eyes.

"Hurry up before I change my mind.”

Xixi didn’t wait. She darted from my lap, chirping happily as she bounded after Dom, her tiny form disappearing into the glow of the campfire.

I hesitated.

I had expected this conversation to end with us further apart than before, with another divide carved between us, deeper and sharper than the last.

But instead, I felt . . . lighter.

Not forgiven. Not trusted.

But maybe something close to understood.

And for now, that was enough.

I pushed to my feet and followed.