Page 28 of We Were Meant to Burn (Ashes and Ruin Saga #1)

Malakai’s voice felt distant, muffled beneath the pounding rush in my ears.

“Nix?”

I blinked, my vision sharpening. My hands were slick against wet stone, my knees pressing hard against the rough surface of the cliff’s edge. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I registered the dull ache blooming where the rock had scraped against my skin.

But none of it felt real.

Malakai knelt beside me, his expression tense with concern.

"Are you okay?”

No. I wasn’t. I wasn’t okay.

I forced myself upright, my head tilting dangerously as the world spun. This couldn’t be true. Malakai had to be wrong. Las Madres must have granted the blessing to others. It couldn’t just be Dom’s family. There had to be another explanation. A mistake. A missing piece. Something—anything—that would help this make sense.

But deep down, I knew.

I think some part of me might have always known—and if not, then some part of me had always hoped that there was a reason Mother was so hard on me.

Malakai’s hand cupped the side of my face, grounding me, anchoring me before I lost myself completely. His palm was warm against my chilled skin, his touch firm but gentle.

"You look like you’ve seen a spirit,”

he murmured, his thumb brushing absently over my cheek. His violet eyes searched mine, filled with an emotion I couldn’t name.

I became acutely aware of how close he stood. How the space between us had shrunk to nothing.

A shiver ran down my spine, but not from the cold mist clinging to the air.

Malakai scooched closer, slow, deliberate. His scent curled around me—spearmint and fir, crisp and clean, something familiar and intoxicating all at once. The warmth of him seeped into me, wrapping around my body like an embrace.

“Nix,”

he whispered, his breath feathering against my lips, his voice a rough rasp.

I swallowed hard as his fingers trailed from my cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. My breath hitched.

I could hear it—my own heartbeat, thundering against my ribs, pulsing hot and insistent over the marca on my chest. Or was that the sound of the waterfall crashing behind us? I couldn’t tell. And, for once, I didn’t care.

All I knew was that I wanted to close the distance between us.

I tilted my chin up, inching closer, drawn to him like a serpent to heat. Satisfaction curled through my spine when I caught the way his breath faltered, his hands flexing like he was fighting the instinct to pull me to him.

I searched his eyes, finding no hesitation there—only understanding. He saw me. All of me. He saw my fears, my doubts, the fractured pieces of who I had been and who I was now. And he did not flinch.

For just a moment, I let the walls fall.

I let go.

I closed my eyes, tilting my face toward his, my lips parting—

A lone howl ripped through the air, sharp and clear.

I froze, irritation flaring hot in my chest.

Xixi. Of course, she would ruin the moment.

Malakai jerked away before our lips could touch, his entire body going rigid. His head snapped toward the tree line, every muscle in him coiled tight, his gaze scanning the shadows.

I barely had a moment to catch my breath before he reached for his sword.

“It’s just Xixi,”

I said, rolling my eyes.

"Little menace probably—”

“That is not Xixi,”

Malakai cut in, his voice low and taut.

Something in his tone made my skin prickle.

A sharp yip echoed through the trees, followed by a chorus of snarling barks that sent ice lacing through my veins.

I turned toward the sound, my heart hammering against my ribs. That wasn’t the playful chittering of an overgrown alebrije.

It was something else.

Something wrong.

“More Capitol tech?”

I asked, shifting into a defensive stance, my hand drifting toward the dagger at my waist.

“Something like that.”

Malakai’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. He edged closer, trying to usher me behind him as if I’d just stand there and let him play hero.

"Stay close.”

I scoffed, shaking him off.

"I can take care of myself.”

Malakai huffed in frustration but didn’t argue. Instead, he kept his gaze trained on the dark spaces between the trees, watching, waiting.

The howls came again—closer this time. And I heard it. The unnatural distortion in the sound. The way it echoed, like something dragging its claws across the edge of reality itself.

Malakai’s jaw clenched.

"Nix, you have to jump. Get to the others. Go north as fast as you can, toward Xica. I’ll hold them off and catch up.”

I turned sharply toward him.

"Are you insane? I’m not leaving you here.”

His expression darkened, his fingers flexing around the hilt of his sword.

"Those are the howls of shadowHounds, Nix. The worst of all the Capitol’s mutations.”

He met my eyes, his face grim.

"They’re here to take you back.”

I went still. A bone-deep cold settled over me, locking me in place.

Back.

Back to the Capitol. Back to chains. Back to a gilded cage wrapped in silk and steel.

No.

Not while I still had breath in my lungs.

I curled my hands into fists, nails biting into my palms. If they wanted me, they’d have to fight for me.

“If I go,”

I said, lifting my chin, “you’re coming with me.”

I unsheathed my dagger in a single fluid motion, turning toward the rustling leaves and snapping branches.

Malakai let out a sharp breath through his nose, something between frustration and reluctant admiration.

"Stubborn,”

he muttered, but there was no heat in it.

The sound of heavy footfalls thundered toward us.

Malakai grabbed my wrist and yanked me toward the cliff’s edge.

“Don’t let go this time,”

he ordered, his fingers locking tight around mine.

The next thing I knew, we were falling.

The roar of the waterfall swallowed everything else—the howls, the pounding of my heart, the sheer terror of knowing what lurked above us.

And then—

Impact.

Cold water closed over me, pulling me under in a rush of clear blue water. The world flipped, weightless and untethered.

I fought my way to the surface, gasping for air just as Malakai broke through the water beside me.

I whipped my head around toward the cliff, my pulse pounding.

Up above, shadows prowled along the ledge, unnatural eyes glowing in the dark.

The Capitol’s beasts had found us.

And they weren’t done hunting.

Malakai yanked me toward the water’s edge, his grip firm and unyielding. My boots scraped against the slick rocks as I stumbled onto solid ground, my lungs still burning from the plunge.

“ShadowHounds!”

Malakai bellowed over the roar of the waterfall, his voice cutting through the mist-heavy air.

"At the top of the falls! Move. Now!”

His warning sent a ripple of tension through the crew. I didn’t miss the flicker of fear that crossed Dom’s face before he set his jaw. Xixi was the first to reach me, her sleek blue-and-red fur bristling as she took a defensive stance in front of me, ears pinned back, muscles coiled. A low growl rumbled from deep in her chest.

Elías was next, spluttering as he dragged himself onto the bank, his dark hair plastered to his forehead.

"Qué chingados! What are we supposed to do?”

he panted, looking between Malakai and the tree line.

"Make a run for it?”

“Too late for that,”

Malakai said grimly, unsheathing his sword with a metallic rasp.

"We make a stand here. Go for the head.”

His eyes tracked the tree line, searching for the first sign of movement.

I barely had time to catch my breath before I spotted the first of them slinking through the shadows.

It stepped from the underbrush with an eerie, fluid grace—half machine, half beast, towering at least twelve feet tall. Black fur draped over a skeletal frame of gears and pistons, its elongated arms ending in jagged claws. The head was unmistakably lupine, but its jaw was unnaturally wide, filled with too many teeth, each one a wicked blade of sharpened steel.

But the eyes were the worst part. Round. Black. Human.

A sick knot twisted in my stomach.

“I thought tech didn’t work in Endrina,”

I whispered.

Malakai didn’t look away from the tree line.

"They’re still half organic,”

he muttered.

"Part beast, part machine. Capitol made sure they’d adapt.”

I swore under my breath. Endrina was sacred, untouched by human technology. It wasn’t supposed to let things like this exist. It was already an insult to Las Madres that the Capitol had created things like trackerWasps—soulless machines modeled after their divine creatures. But this?

These things weren’t just an abomination.

They were a mockery.

More figures slithered from the trees. First five. Then ten. Then, at least a dozen. A pack. Their blackened forms melted into the shadows between the trees, their hulking frames shifting like wraiths.

I flicked my gaze to the dagger at my waist. It was laughable against creatures this size.

“I could use something a little bigger than this,”

I said, eyeing Malakai’s sword.

His grip on the hilt tightened. A sound that was almost a growl rumbled from his throat, but without hesitation, he flipped it in his palm and held it out to me.

“Fine. Take it.”

I accepted it with a grin, rolling my wrist to test the weight. The balance was near perfect. My fingers curled around the hilt, my blood singing at the familiar feel of a proper weapon.

Malakai arched a brow as I gave the sword a twirl, letting it cut through the misty air with a whip of steel.

“Show off,”

he muttered under his breath.

“Just getting a feel for it,”

I said, the corner of my lips twitching upward.

"Wouldn’t want to be sloppy with your blade.”

A long, mournful howl shattered the air.

The largest of the shadowHounds stepped forward, its movements disturbingly fluid, its unnatural joints clicking into place as it prowled closer. A belt of bones dangled from its waist, trophies from its prey—some human, some not.

It opened its mouth.

“Surrender the girl.”

The words rasped from its throat, distorted and inhuman, like a voice dragged through metal.

A chill slithered down my spine.

Malakai stepped forward, rolling his shoulders, the set of his stance shifting into something dangerous. His silver hair was damp, clinging to his sharp jaw, but his violet eyes burned with pure, unrelenting defiance.

“Not happening,”

he said flatly.

The largest hound turned its soulless gaze to me.

"She belongs to the Capitol.”

I bared my teeth in something that wasn’t quite a smile.

“Then come and take me.”

Several more hounds broke from their positions, crashing through the underbrush like a storm of snarling, metal-clad shadows. Their gaping maws dripped with thick, oily saliva, their blackened claws tearing through roots and soil as they charged.

“Cover the right flank!”

I ordered, shifting my stance, sword raised.

"I’ll hold the left.”

“Dom, you’re with me,”

Malakai barked, his voice carrying over the chaos.

"Elías, you’re with Nix. Lian, stay in the back with Kerun!”

The pack split like a wave around the edges of the battlefield, dark figures weaving between trees with horrifying speed. One lunged for me, its powerful limbs propelling it forward in a blur of motion. I braced myself, but before it could reach me, Xixi exploded into action, a streak of blue-and-red fur. She slammed into the beast with the full force of her weight, sinking her razor-sharp fangs into its throat. The hound let out a mechanical shriek, its struggle brief before it collapsed in a heap of twisted limbs and leaking black ichor.

No time to celebrate. Another hound lunged.

The scent of oil and rust filled my lungs as I met it head-on, ducking low before slashing my blade across its throat. The resistance was different from flesh—metal and gears ground against my weapon, but the sharp edge of Malakai’s sword cut through seamlessly. Black liquid spurted from the wound, splattering across my hands and arms. The second the blood hit my skin, the taste of rot and sulfur coated my tongue. I gagged, nearly doubling over from the overwhelming stench.

“It’s just oil!”

Malakai called, his voice sharp over the sounds of combat. He cracked his silver whip, the metallic tendril striking out like a serpent and coiling around the neck of a nearby hound. With a flick of his wrist, the whip tightened, the silver burning into the beast’s flesh as it let out a choked snarl.

I nodded, quickly switching my sword to my clean hand, swallowing down the bile in my throat.

Gunfire rang out beside me. Elías was a blur, moving with deadly precision, his twin pistols spitting fire and lead. Every shot hit home, square between the eyes. Hounds crumpled mid-charge, but for every one that fell, two more emerged from the trees.

Dom fought with brute strength, swinging his axe with unrelenting force. The heavy blade cleaved through metal and bone alike, sending hunks of mechanical limbs flying. A guttural roar tore from his throat as he struck another hound down, its howl of agony echoing through the jungle before its body slumped to the earth.

Lian moved like a phantom, his twin blades singing as they sliced through the air. His strikes were swift, calculated, never wasting movement. Despite the ferocity of his assault, there was something elegant about it. A quiet, controlled fury. He was poetry in motion, each step perfectly placed, each cut clean. He was precision embodied, striking down two hounds at once as they leapt for him.

And then there was Malakai.

I caught sight of him through the fray, and for half a second, I almost forgot to breathe.

He didn’t just fight—he danced.

His silver whip was an extension of his body, slashing through the air like a blade of light, striking and retracting with terrifying grace. Where Dom was sheer strength, Lian careful precision, and Elías deadly accuracy, Malakai was something else entirely. He was an artist. Each motion was fluid, seamless, too fast for the human eye to follow. His silver hair caught the sunlight, his violet eyes burning with an unholy kind of focus. His expression never changed—no hesitation, no doubt. Just pure, lethal intent.

And I understood, then, why the Hunters of Tiepaz had been feared for generations.

Malakai was made to kill.

And goddess, he made it look beautiful.

The shadowHounds began chanting as they continued their onslaught. One word only.

Surrender.

The word echoed through the battlefield like a curse.

I slashed through a shadowHound, my blade cleaving straight through its mechanical spine. Oil and gears scattered at my feet.

Surrender. Surrender. Surrender.

Another voice, another beast. I spun and cut it down mid-word, its severed head hitting the dirt with a sickening thud.

But they just kept coming.

The jungle churned with movement, more of them pouring from the trees. Dozens. No—hundreds. The darkness of the canopy above twisted with their shifting forms, all of them chanting the same word in a mindless, droning unison.

Surrender.

I heard Malakai cry out.

Time fractured.

The world slowed to an agonizing crawl as I turned. A shadowHound loomed over Malakai, its jagged blade already buried deep in his abdomen. Blood gushed in hot, thick waves from the gaping wound, soaking his shirt, painting the ground beneath him in deep crimson.

His breath hitched, violet eyes blown wide in shock.

No.

His legs buckled.

No, no, no.

The shadowHound raised its sword again, this time aiming for his throat.

“No!”

I screamed.

Something inside me snapped.

A searing heat pulsed from my chest, flooding every nerve in my body. My marca burned like a fresh brand against my skin, power igniting in my veins like wildfire. The world around me shifted. My vision sharpened to an unnatural clarity—every detail suddenly too vivid, too precise.

The metallic stench of oil and blood curled in my nose. The silver leaves of the cecropia trees glowed as sunlight pierced through the canopy. Every bead of sweat on my skin, every whisper of wind along my arms, every heartbeat—mine, theirs—pounded in perfect rhythm.

I felt the wind stir through the battlefield, rustling leaves, carrying the scent of wildflowers from somewhere unseen. A hummingbird’s wings fluttered—slow motion—its tiny body caught in the moment before flight.

Time itself had yielded to my magic.

My blade ignited, crimson flames licking hungrily at its steel. I shot forward, the world blurring around me as I surged toward Malakai.

The shadowHound never saw me coming.

I knocked the blade from its hand with a vicious swing. The metal clattered to the earth. With a single arc of my sword, its head separated cleanly from its shoulders. The fire in my blade cauterized the wound before its body even had a chance to collapse.

Malakai stared at me, his breath shallow, his hands pressed against the wound in his stomach.

I didn’t let myself hesitate.

“Fall back!”

I commanded, my voice ringing with an authority I hadn’t used in a very long time.

"All of you, fall back! Elías, help him!”

Elías was already moving, sprinting toward Malakai, his Curador magic already coating his hands in a sheen of green light.

The remaining hounds hesitated, their eerie black eyes locked onto me. They had sensed the shift. They knew this was it for them.

Xixi skidded to my side, her fur bristling, ears pinned back. A deep, guttural growl rumbled from her throat, the sound more primal than anything I’d ever heard from her before.

Then, something foreign slithered through my mind.

A voice. Dark. Hungry.

Slay them all.

I flinched, my gaze snapping to Xixi.

She met my stare, eyes glowing with an unnatural light.

They hurt him. He is ours. Now, we make them pay.

The words weren’t spoken aloud. They hummed through my skull, as though she had planted them there herself.

I had no time to question how—no time to panic over the fact that I was suddenly hearing my alebrije’s thoughts.

Because the truth was, her rage was my rage.

And I wasn’t done yet.

Serenity wrapped around me like a warm embrace, an intoxicating hum of power that filled me to the brim. It wasn’t just magic. It was something deeper—an ancient, primal force that pulsed in my veins, a song of blood and embers thrumming to life in my bones.

Fuegador fire rocketed from my fingertips, blue flames twisting into a vortex that barreled toward the shadowHounds. The fire licked greedily at their fur, crackling as it ate through their bodies. Their oil-slicked coats ignited with a violent explosion, a shockwave ripping through the jungle, sending a mile of dirt and flame into the air. The ground quaked beneath me, debris raining down in thick clouds of ash and soot.

The scent of burning fur, melted bone, and something fouler—sulfur and oil—coiled in my nose.

My limbs wobbled. I dropped to a knee, struggling to catch my breath. My hands trembled, slick with black blood, and I grimaced at the acrid taste of it in my mouth. I wiped the back of my hand over my lips, spitting to clear the bitterness away.

Next to me, Xixi slumped to the ground with a weary groan.

“Xixi!”

Panic shot through me as I rushed to her side, pressing my hands into her damp fur.

A single blue fox eye cracked open, half-lidded and unimpressed. Don’t shout. That was exhausting. Let me sleep.

A sharp breath rattled from my chest, part relief, part residual fear. I stroked the wet tufts of her fur, fingers shaking slightly.

"I don’t know what you did, but whatever it was, you helped me. Thank you.”

She chittered, a tired sound, then shut her eye again.

I barely had a moment to process it before Malakai was in front of me, kneeling, hands gripping my shoulders, his violet eyes scanning my face like he was searching for damage.

“Are you okay?”

I blinked at him, still dazed. My gaze flickered down. The blood from his wound soaked the fabric of his shirt, but the flesh beneath it was smooth, unblemished.

I swallowed hard. No. That’s not right.

I reached out before I could think better of it, my fingers pressing against his abdomen, searching, expecting to find torn flesh, the ragged wound where a blade had driven through his stomach.

But there was nothing.

“How?”

My voice barely made it past my lips. My fingers trembled against his skin.

Malakai exhaled, sensing my panic.

"Elías healed me.”

A shuddering breath rattled through me.

"Thanks be to Las Madres.”

My shoulders sagged with relief.

Then Malakai grabbed my face, his rough palms cradling my cheeks, tilting my chin up until all I could see was him.

His eyes burned.

“Do you think you’re untouchable?!”

His eyes were bright with fear, and his voice edged with frustration, thick with something heavier, something raw.

“No. I think you’re the only one foolish enough to try.”

That stomped out the embers of his anger and replaced it with wry amusement.

“Why can’t you ever do as you’re told?”

he murmured. His face was so close, his breath warm against my lips. His violet gaze flickered down, lingering at my mouth.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I covered his hands with mine, my pulse a wildfire in my veins.

"I don’t take orders from you, Malakai,”

I murmured, my breath still unsteady.

"I’m not part of your crew. I’m not bound to you.”

His jaw clenched, but his thumbs stroked gently along the angles of my face. His voice was husky, quiet.

"Las Madres help the fool who ever tries.”

I should have pulled away. I should have put some space between us before this thing—this tension, this fever—swallowed me whole.

But I didn’t.

I stayed close. Let myself drown in the heat of his body, in the scent of fir needles and steel. Let my stomach flip and twist as his eyes roamed my face.

Then—snap.

I whirled in an instant, dagger in hand, arm cocked back. Without hesitation, I sent the blade flying into the shadows.

A single bird shot from the trees, screeching as it fled into the sky.

I let out a slow breath before turning back to Malakai.

"I guess I’m a little paranoid,”

I admitted, feeling sheepish at my clear overreaction.

His lips twitched.

"Just a little.”

His mouth was red, slightly swollen, like he’d been biting his lower lip. Like he’d been restraining himself.

A new flush burned at my throat.

Before I could dwell on it, Kerun skidded to a stop in front of me, wide-eyed and breathless.

"That was awesome,”

he said, hands clasped behind his head. His face was bright with excitement, as if he had been the one throwing fire.

"How’d you do that?”

I stared down at my hands, where black blood still clung to my skin.

I’d seen Malakai bleeding, dying, and something inside me had snapped.

“I don’t know,”

I admitted.

And that terrified me.

Kerun swung an imaginary blade, his movements exaggerated, dramatic.

"Can you teach me that move?”

he asked, mimicking a downward slash with far too much flair. He turned to Elías, thrusting in rapid succession, his form completely impractical.

“Now you’ve done it,”

Malakai drawled, crossing his arms.

"The only one of them who still looked up to me, and you’ve stolen him away.”

Dom snorted as he approached, a tin in his hand.

"That’s assuming any of us idolized you to begin with,”

he said, giving Malakai a shove with his elbow before turning to me. “Here.”

He popped open the tin, revealing a pungent salve.

"For the cuts on your arms.”

I blinked and glanced down, just now noticing the thin, bloody scratches lining my skin. They stung faintly, but I must’ve gotten them during the fight. In the haze of adrenaline and fire, I hadn’t even felt them.

Dom didn’t waste a second. He scooped a portion of salve onto his fingers and started smoothing it over one of the deeper cuts. His touch was surprisingly gentle. His words, not so much.

“You may be the Nightshade of Rojas,”

he said, his tone sharp enough to draw blood, “but what you did back there was reckless.”

Behind him, Malakai covered his grin with a hand, shoulders shaking with restrained laughter. When our eyes met, he mouthed, “You’re in trouble.”

I shot him a look, but Dom was already steamrolling ahead.

“You haven’t trained in months,”

he snapped, brows furrowed like he was personally offended by my existence.

"You’ve done zero conditioning—no, hiking doesn’t count. You used your magic even though you know damn well you can’t control it. And on top of that, you had no knowledge of your enemy. You could’ve been bitten. Or worse.”

Each word landed like a blow, not because he was wrong—but because he wasn’t.

I winced, feeling less like an assassin and more like a kid caught sneaking out after curfew.

“I wasn’t going to stand back and do nothing,”

I muttered.

Even if doing something nearly got me killed.

Dom fixed me with a flat stare, the kind that made me feel like I was back in training, about to get my ass handed to me.

“The shadowHound bite is poisonous,”

he said.

"The techies add something to it that sours the blood and drives the victim mad. And a Curador can’t heal it. Whatever the Aguatitlans used to power that collar of yours? They put it into the poison, too. The burn is so intense, victims crawl toward the Capitol for the antidote.”

He leaned in just enough to make sure I heard the next part.

"If you’d been bitten, you’d be begging us to take you back to them.”

A cold shiver licked down my spine. Crawl toward the Capitol? No. No chance in all seven hells. I’d rather die with teeth in my throat than beg those bastards for anything.

Still, I forced a smirk onto my lips.

"I guess I’m lucky that didn’t happen.”

I flashed him my most innocent smile, the one I used when I was about to do something especially stupid.

Dom rolled his eyes.

"This time,”

he muttered, snapping the tin shut before stalking off to check on Elías and Lian.

Malakai, still lingering nearby, let out a low chuckle.

"I’ll be damned. You’ve managed to get him to actually like you.”

I snorted.

"Like me? He just tore me a new one.”

Malakai’s gaze softened, a glint of something quieter in those bright violet eyes.

"It means he cares.”

The words landed oddly in my chest. Warm. Unfamiliar.

I wanted to scoff, brush it off, but the way Dom had cleaned the cuts on my arm—gruff, sure, but careful—and stayed with me until the salve soaked in . . . that wasn’t nothing.

I exhaled and shook my head.

"Could’ve fooled me.”

Malakai smirked.

"He’s not the only one.”

And just like that, I was painfully aware of how close he was. Of the way his eyes lingered on mine, steady and deliberate. Of the weight of his words—and everything they didn’t say.

My stomach fluttered.

Las Madres help me.

I didn’t even have time to breathe before something massive slammed into me, knocking the air clean from my lungs. One second, I was standing, the next, I was on the ground, my head cracking hard against the earth. Claws punched into my shoulders, pinning me beneath a crushing weight that felt like it could snap me in half.

Pain exploded through me—hot, blinding—just as the shadowHound’s teeth sank into the curve of my neck.

The sound—wet and tearing—filled my ears, a sickening chorus of flesh giving way to fang. Muscle split. Tendon shredded. And then—goddess—bone. I felt it all.

A strangled gasp tore from my throat, only to drown in the sudden rush of blood flooding my mouth. Salt. Copper. Thick and suffocating. I choked on it, my vision splintering at the edges as fire licked through my nerves, searing through every limb.

I tried to move. My fingers scrambled for anything. A knife. A rock. A miracle. But the hound was too strong. Too heavy. Its body pressed me down like a slab of stone, immovable and merciless.

The world narrowed to the agony in my throat, the scorching breath snarling against my skin—

And then it spoke.

A rasp. A growl. A curse.

“The king waits.”

The words curled into my bones, cold and poisonous and real.

No.

Not like this. Not here.

I wasn’t ready.

But the fire in my veins kept screaming.

A roar shattered through the haze of pain, and then—suddenly—the crushing weight was gone.

I barely registered the blur of movement before Dom’s axe came down with a sickening crack, splitting the shadowHound’s skull. The force of it sent the beast sprawling, its limbs jerking, twitching as it collapsed into the dirt.

Dead.

But I couldn’t even feel relief.

Another wave of pain tore through me, sharper this time, deeper, like my body was trying to tear itself apart from the inside out. I convulsed, every nerve on fire, blood pulsing hot and fast from the open wound at my neck. My limbs stopped feeling like mine. They were distant, foreign, and I could barely feel the ground beneath me.

I was gasping, but nothing was going in. No air. No sound. Just drowning in red.

Hands found me—warm, steady, pressing hard against my throat, trying to stop the bleeding.

“Nix.”

Malakai’s voice was a broken thing, barely more than a whisper.

"Stay with me. Stay with me.”

I heard it—the tremor in his words. The fear. He was trying to sound calm, trying to be the composed one, the strong one. But his hands were slick with my blood, and they were shaking.

I forced my eyes to meet his. Violet and wild. He looked like he was shattering in real time.

I wanted to comfort him. Tell him it was okay. That he didn’t have to look at me like that. That maybe it was better this way.

But the words wouldn’t come.

My body was slipping, sliding down into something dark and cold and endless.

“Elías!”

Malakai’s voice cracked, raw and desperate.

"DO SOMETHING!”

That was the last thing I heard before the world tilted.

Spun.

And then—

Nothing.