Page 22 of We Were Meant to Burn (Ashes and Ruin Saga #1)

The next morning, after we broke down camp and set off for the day, I noticed something was off with Dom.

He was always gruff, but today was different.

His steps were heavier, his usual scowl deeper. He barely spoke, barely even grunted when Lian or Elías made their usual morning jokes. When Kerun tripped over a root and cursed loud enough to startle a flock of parrots from the canopy, Dom didn’t so much as crack a smirk. He just kept moving, head down, jaw clenched, lost somewhere far away.

I didn’t need to ask what had put him in this mood.

The ciguapa.

His sister.

The weight of guilt settled like a stone in my gut.

I wanted to say something to him, but I wasn’t sure if I should. We’d been making progress—or at least, it had felt that way. But now there was a valley between us, wide and impassable. One, I wasn’t sure I could—or should—try to cross.

So, I held my silence.

Hours passed. The jungle stretched ahead, dense and endless.

Eventually, I caught up to Malakai at half-day, falling into step beside him.

“Is Dom okay?”

I asked, keeping my voice low enough that the others wouldn’t hear.

Malakai glanced at me, his violet eyes sharp and indecipherable. Then he sighed, raking a hand through his silver-streaked hair.

"Yesterday brought back painful memories for him,”

he said, voice quiet.

"He thinks of his sister often. Wonders what could have been.”

I swallowed hard.

Guilt coiled around my throat, squeezing tight.

Malakai continued, his voice thoughtful, almost distant.

"You see, Dom’s mother died giving birth to his sister. But at least he still had her. His father. His aunts and uncles. His cousins. A family.”

His lips pressed together in a thin line.

"And then he lost everything the night Danixtl raided the castle. His sister—she was the last piece of his mother that he had left. Losing her . . . he felt like he was losing his mother all over again. He was only six when it all happened.”

Six.

My stomach turned. I’d known Dom had suffered, but hearing it laid out like that made something twist inside me. I couldn’t imagine losing everything at that age.

Malakai exhaled, rolling his shoulders as if trying to shake off the weight of the past.

"And yet, he keeps pushing forward. No matter what. Sometimes, I think he’s the strongest person I know.”

I looked ahead, watching Dom’s broad back as he trudged through the underbrush, his hatchet swinging slightly with each step.

Strong.

Yes. That was one way to describe him.

Another way would be alone.

Like me.

I mulled over Malakai’s words for the rest of the hike, each step pressing them deeper into my thoughts. I wanted to talk to Dom. I should talk to him. Apologize. Something.

But I didn’t.

And he didn’t speak to me either.

By the time the sun dipped low in the sky, staining the jungle in molten gold, the valley between us still stood, wide and yawning. And I had no idea if I’d ever be able to cross it.

When it was time to make camp, I had gotten into the habit of throwing myself at any opportunity to be useful.

Not because I wanted to impress anyone.

Not because I was trying to fit in.

But because if I kept busy, if I forced myself to move, to do, then I wouldn’t have to think too much.

Tonight was no different.

“I’ll get firewood,”

I said to no one in particular as I tightened the leather cords around my boots.

Across the clearing, Xixi had wedged herself between Kerun’s legs, both of them cackling as they piled smooth river stones into Elías’s pack. Xixi had not yet forgiven the Curador for their first introduction, and Kerun, apparently, had appointed himself her accomplice in this grudge.

I glanced around camp, looking for Malakai. He was deep in conversation with Lian, both speaking in hushed tones, their heads bowed toward one another. Something tightened in my chest at the sight, but I forced myself to look away. It didn’t matter.

Elías was off in his own world, humming to himself as he dug through the dirt for whatever roots he needed. That left Dom, sitting near the firepit, threading a rope between his calloused fingers, testing the strength of the knots.

I hesitated before approaching.

He hadn’t spoken to me all day. Not really.

But he was the closest to me, and it wasn’t like I needed his permission to go into the jungle. I just . . . wanted him to know where I was.

“Going to get firewood,”

I said, arms crossed over my chest.

Dom didn’t even glance up from his rope.

"Don’t go too far,”

he muttered. His voice was rough, either from lack of use or because he was tired of talking to me.

"Use the whistle if you see anything.”

I tapped the whistle at my collar, the new leather cord cool against my fingers.

"If I used it, would you come?”

That got his attention.

His fingers stilled against the rope, his hazel eyes flicking up to meet mine. His gaze was cold, assessing. Measuring.

“Of course,”

he said at last, his tone cool, masked.

"I gave Mal my word.”

Not because he wanted to, but because he had sworn to.

Something inside me twisted, but I shoved it aside.

I nodded, satisfied that he’d at least looked at me, and turned away. I started near the edges of camp, collecting what dry wood I could find, making a small pile near the firepit before venturing deeper.

The air was thick with humidity, clinging to my skin like a second layer. Most of the wood I found was damp, too soft to burn properly.

Annoyed, I flipped over a rotting log and found a small sapling that hadn’t been entirely soaked through yet.

Better than nothing.

As I bent to collect the branches into a bundle, the jungle hummed with life around me.

Macaws called to each other from the canopies of the cecropia trees, their shrill cries echoing through the leaves. In the distance, howler monkeys whooped in laughter, throwing guava fruit at me when I ventured too close.

One struck me in the head, bouncing against the ground before rolling to a stop.

I bent down, picked it up, and wiped the dirt off on my sleeve before sinking my teeth into the fleshy center. The juice was thick and sticky, coating my tongue in its sweetness. I chewed the tiny seeds, swallowed, and tossed the woody stigma into the undergrowth.

It felt good.

Normal.

Like for a brief moment, I wasn’t the Nightshade of Rojas.

I was just a girl, hungry from travel, getting fruit and monkey poop thrown at her. Totally normal.

I wiped my hands clean and bent to flip another log, hoping to find more dry wood.

And that’s when I noticed it.

The silence.

The jungle had gone completely, eerily still.

No birds.

No monkeys.

No rustling of leaves.

The only sound was the soft exhale of my own breath.

Slowly, I straightened, my pulse thrumming against my ribs.

I tightened my grip on the bundle of wood in my arms and turned my head just slightly, listening.

Nothing.

Even the air felt heavy, like the weight of a held breath just before a storm.

I’d been in Endrina long enough to know that silence like this meant one thing.

I wasn’t alone.

A prickle ran down my spine, sharp and certain, and I felt the unmistakable weight of something watching me.

I swallowed hard and turned my head slowly, scanning the thick undergrowth, my ears straining for any sign of movement. The jungle was dense here, the trees gnarled and ancient, their roots thick as serpents, twisting over the damp earth.

How far had I wandered from the others?

Too far.

I had my answer when the shadows between the trees rippled.

Something moved.

My heart slammed against my ribs as a shape unfolded from the darkness, creeping forward on all fours, its grotesque body a patchwork of sagging skin, wiry fur, and protruding bones.

The creature’s joints jutted at wrong angles, bending in ways that should have been impossible. Its ribs bulged under its hide, shifting with every sickly movement. A low growl rumbled from its throat, deep and guttural, vibrating through the still air.

Its mouth—goddess help me, its mouth—was lined with rows of jagged, yellowed fangs, long and uneven, like shards of broken glass. Thick ropes of saliva dripped from its maw, sizzling as they hit the ground. The stench of rotting meat clung to it, thick enough to choke on.

The firewood slipped from my arms, thudding softly onto the jungle floor.

The creature’s head twitched toward the sound, its pale, pupilless eyes locking onto me.

I took a slow, measured step backward.

A snarl rumbled through the clearing.

My body screamed at me to run, but I knew better. Predators chased runners.

I forced myself to stay still. Forced myself to breathe. Forced myself to summon the fire buried somewhere inside me.

Come on. Light up. Give me something. Anything.

But nothing happened.

No heat in my veins. No flames licking at my fingertips.

Just silence.

Damn it.

It had been there when I didn’t want it. When I’d lost control. But now, when I needed it, my magic remained dormant, trapped behind the cursed collar at my throat.

The creature took another step forward, drool spilling from its teeth, its breath heavy and wet.

I tightened my grip on the dagger hidden in my boot and unsheathed the blade Malakai had given me, its weight reassuring in my palm.

I’d never seen this thing before, had no idea what it was or how to kill it. But every creature had weak spots. The throat. The eyes. The joints. If I could get in close enough, I might have a chance.

Another step back.

A single, deadly second of hesitation.

The beast lunged.

Screw it. I wasn’t going to stand around and let myself get eaten.

I twisted on my heel and made a run for it.

Branches clawed at my face, thorns tearing at my arms as I shoved my way through the underbrush, my boots pounding against the earth.

The creature barreled after me, crashing through the jungle, a wall of muscle and hunger. I fumbled for the whistle at my throat, pressed it to my lips, and blew.

The sharp, shrieking sound tore through the trees.

Please, let them hear me. Please, please, please.

I didn’t slow. Didn’t stop. The jungle was thick, the roots treacherous, but I forced myself forward, dodging, ducking, desperate to put distance between me and the thing on my heels.

A shadow loomed ahead—a massive tree, its trunk covered in fist-sized thorns.

Perfect.

I stuck the dagger between my teeth and leapt, gripping the knots in the bark with both hands, scrambling upward.

My arms burned. My legs strained. But I climbed, nails scraping against the rough surface, breath coming in ragged gasps.

Not fast enough.

The creature swiped, claws raking through bark, splitting the wood with a sickening scritch.

Another swipe.

Its claws caught in my shirt and ripped, tearing through fabric and flesh alike.

Pain seared across my back.

A scream ripped from my throat as my grip slipped, my dagger plummeting to the ground as I fell.

The impact knocked the breath from my lungs.

The jungle blurred. The pain in my back roared to life, hot and agonizing.

Above me, the creature loomed.

Its massive paws slammed into the ground on either side of my head, trapping me.

Drool dripped from its gaping maw, sizzling against my skin.

My hands fumbled along the ground looking for anything to use against the beast. My fingers touched metal, and my heart soared at finding my dagger. I gripped it and stabbed at the underbelly with a growl. But no matter how many times I tried, the blade barely pierced its hide, scraping uselessly against thick, leathery skin.

It laughed.

A low, guttural sound, as if it were amused by my feeble attempts.

The beast’s jaw stretched, unhinging like a snake’s, the folds of its grotesque mouth opening wider, wider, a pit of darkness and gnashing fangs.

It was going to swallow me whole.

My heart thundered.

No. No, no, no—

And then, a coil of silver shot through the air.

The whip snapped around the creature’s muzzle, tightening in an instant, yanking its gaping jaws shut with a sharp, wet crack.

The beast howled, jerking back, thrashing.

Malakai.

He stood just beyond the tree line, his silver hair catching the faint light, his violet eyes ablaze with something wild, something dangerous.

Malakai yanked his silver whip, and the beast was ripped back, the crushing weight lifting from my chest. I gasped for air, dragging it into my burning lungs, and scrambled to my feet. My hands stung from the impact of my fall, and a sharp throb radiated through my spine, but there was no time to dwell on the pain.

Silver slithered down Malakai’s arms like liquid light, spilling into the air, extending and twisting into a web of glistening threads. He moved with inhuman grace, weaving the strands with sharp flicks of his wrists, wrapping the creature in an ever-tightening snare. The thing howled, its massive body thrashing, but the more it fought, the tighter the metal constricted, pinning its limbs, its snarling jaws locked shut by bands of silver.

It was the first time I’d ever seen Malakai use his magic so elaborately. It was beautiful, in a terrifying sort of way.

A sound broke through the stillness—the low, guttural rumble of another growl.

Then another.

And another.

The jungle trembled with the chorus of snarls, deep and feral, rolling through the trees like the voice of some ancient, hungry monster.

I stiffened, my breath coming in quick, uneven bursts. The beast caught in Malakai’s snare wasn’t alone.

Malakai muttered a curse. His grip on the silver whip loosened, and the liquid metal snapped back into his hands, coiling like a living thing before solidifying into its original form.

“Time to go,”

he said, grabbing my wrist.

I dug my heels into the ground.

"What the hell was that thing?”

“Less talk, more run,”

Malakai shot back, already pulling me forward.

I turned my head—just for a second—and that’s when I saw them.

A horde of them.

Their massive bodies surged through the jungle like a living flood, yellow eyes gleaming in the darkness. They were fast. Faster than they had any right to be. Their ragged, patchwork skin clung to their bones, stretched too tight in some places and sagging in others, and when their mouths peeled open, rows of jagged teeth gleamed wet under the dim jungle light.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Malakai yanked on my arm.

"Run faster!”

“I’m trying!”

I shot back, my lungs already burning.

“Try harder!”

I willed every ounce of strength into my legs, pushing harder, forcing myself to move faster, but the creatures were gaining ground. The jungle was thick with gnarled roots and slick leaves, the humid air pressing down on my skin like a second layer of flesh. It was suffocating, exhausting.

Then—suddenly—the ground beneath my boots shifted.

The trees broke away, giving way to open air.

I skidded to a halt, sending pebbles tumbling over the edge of a ravine. My arms flailed for balance as I teetered at the lip of a cliff.

The roar of rushing water filled my ears.

I didn’t even have to look to know what lay ahead. I could feel the cool mist curling against my overheated skin, smell the wet stone, the fresh, mossy scent of the river far below.

A waterfall.

Malakai came up behind me, his breath steady, his presence too calm for a man being chased by monsters.

“Don’t think about it,”

he said.

"Just jump.”

I whipped my head toward him.

"You’re crazy.”

The growls behind us grew louder. Closer.

Malakai didn’t argue.

Instead, he grabbed my hand.

The world slowed.

I felt his fingers tighten around mine—strong, firm, certain.

He looked at me, and for the briefest moment, the rest of the world disappeared. There was no waterfall, no monsters, no burning in my lungs. Just his violet eyes locked onto mine, steady and unshaken.

“Don’t let go,” he said.

And then he pulled.

The world dropped.

We plummeted over the edge, weightless, helpless, falling.

The roar of the waterfall swallowed my scream. The mist wrapped around us like a ghostly veil, stealing all sight, all sound. The air rushed past me, a force so strong it threatened to rip Malakai’s hand from mine.

Then—impact.

The river devoured me whole.

The cold stole the breath from my lungs, shocking my body, forcing every muscle to lock up as the current dragged me under.

Malakai’s grip was wrenched from mine.

I twisted, fighting, struggling against the violent pull of the water. The force of the river spun me, knocking me against unseen rocks, sending pain splintering through my ribs.

I need air. I need air. I need air.

A flash of silver.

I caught a glimpse of Malakai, his body a blur beneath the churning water, fighting his way toward me.

I reached for him.

He was so close.

Just a little more.

The ache in my chest turned into something sharp. Something deadly.

I fought the instinct to breathe, to suck in a mouthful of water, but my body was already betraying me. My limbs were sluggish. My vision blurred.

Malakai’s hand shot out. He was nearly there.

I forced my arm forward, my fingers straining—

My mouth sprang open.

Water rushed in.

The pain was instant, sharp, all-consuming.

I choked.

The river swallowed me whole.

My body convulsed.

Darkness pressed at the edges of my vision.

Through the haze, I saw Malakai’s face—his expression twisted in desperation, his mouth moving, shouting something I couldn’t hear.

I reached for him. Tried to hold on.

Too late.

Everything faded.

My body went limp.

My eyes drifted shut.

And as the world turned to nothing, the last thing I did was whisper a silent prayer in the safety of my mind.

Thanks be to Las Madres.

And then, there was only darkness.