Page 29 of We Were Meant to Burn (Ashes and Ruin Saga #1)

The world flickered in and out, like candlelight fighting against the wind. I was vaguely aware of movement—the relentless pounding of feet against earth, the rhythmic rise and fall of strong arms beneath me. The scent of fir needles filled my lungs, grounding me for the briefest of moments before the darkness pulled me under again.

I floated somewhere between wakefulness and oblivion, caught in the fragile space between. My head lolled against a firm chest, and I could hear it—his heart, pounding like a wildfire raging through dry brush.

Malakai.

He was running, fast. Desperation seeped through every footfall, through the tautness in his grip, through the way his breath came sharp and strained.

My vision blurred, edges darkening like ink spilling across parchment. But then something shifted—not just my vision, but my entire self.

I wasn’t in my body anymore.

I was lower to the ground, my senses razor-sharp. I could smell everything: the dampness of the jungle, the metallic tang of blood, the sweat clinging to Malakai’s skin. I could feel the vibrations of the earth beneath my paws. Paws.

A growl rumbled through my chest, but it wasn’t my own.

Nix! Don’t try to fight me!

Xixi’s voice was inside my head, laced with both fury and fear.

I tried to pull away, to claw my way back to myself, but it was like struggling against a riptide. My body—my real body—was weak, drowning in the poison infecting my blood. The shadowHound’s bite was dragging me under, deeper and deeper into something I couldn’t escape.

But Xixi could.

She was fighting for me, and I was resisting.

Another growl tore from our throat, and I finally let go.

Relief flooded me like cool water over burning skin. The searing pain in my body faded, dissolving like mist beneath the morning sun.

Then, I was inside her.

The jungle snapped into focus, more vivid than I had ever seen it. I saw the shifting of shadows between trees, the gleam of predatory eyes lurking in the underbrush. I felt the wind slicing against fur, the raw power coiled in our limbs, the primal instinct urging us forward.

I whipped my head back—our head—and caught sight of the others in the distance. They were at least a mile behind, struggling to keep up with Malakai’s grueling pace.

Elías.

I could still feel his hands on my skin, pressing against my wound, his voice frantic as he muttered prayers and invocations. But the poison had ignored him. He hadn’t been able to pull it from my blood, no matter how desperately he tried. Dom had been right. The Capitol’s poison wasn’t something a Curador could undo.

That left Malakai with only one choice.

Only one place to take me.

Only one person who could command an entire legion of Hada Curadors.

The queen, whose territory we’d been skirting.

A shiver ran down my spine, though whether it was my own or Xixi’s, I wasn’t sure.

I didn’t want to go to the Hada. I knew Malakai didn’t want to go either. But there was no other option. Not if he wanted to keep me alive.

And, despite everything, Malakai did.

With one last glance at the falling night, at the endless trees stretching before us, I let myself fall.

Deeper.

Into Xixi.

Into the darkness.

Into whatever came next.

Xixi

The jungle blurred into streaks of green and gold as Xixi sprinted to keep pace with Malakai. Every muscle in her body burned, her lungs stretched thin from exertion, but she didn’t dare slow down. Not when Nix—her Nix—lay limp in Malakai’s arms, her golden-brown skin fading into an unnatural pallor.

The black veins had worsened, crawling like creeping vines from the wound at her throat, curling over her jaw, and threading through her hairline. Her lips had turned a deep blue, her breathing shallow and erratic. Too fast. Too weak.

Xixi growled low in her throat, frustration and helplessness pooling in her chest like hot coals. This shouldn’t have happened. She should have been watching. She should have been protecting her. Nix had only just started trusting her magic again—Xixi had been trying to match her energy, to help guide it, but it had drained her far more than she’d anticipated. She had let herself grow tired. And now look what had happened.

“Hang in there,”

Malakai murmured, his grip tightening around Nix’s slack form. His voice was thick with emotion, his usual steady composure nowhere to be found.

"Las Madres have mercy.”

He spared a glance at Xixi, his violet eyes dark with something close to panic.

"I haven’t prayed in decades, but now seems a time to start.”

Xixi let out a short, sharp chuff in agreement. If the goddesses had any favor left to spare, now would be the time.

Branches lashed against her face, tearing at her fur as she pushed herself harder. Faster. They had to go faster. But even as they ran, even as the humid jungle air thickened with the scent of wet earth and sweat, Xixi could feel the life draining from Nix.

Malakai bent his head lower, his silver hair plastered to his forehead as he whispered against Nix’s ear.

"Stay with me,”

he pleaded, voice rough with something raw. Something broken.

Nix’s eyes fluttered open for the briefest moment. Brown, deep as earth, but glassy and unfocused—like she was staring at something beyond him. Like she was already on the other side, and only needed to take one last step.

A snarl built in Xixi’s chest. No. No, you don’t. Nix wasn’t allowed to leave. Not after everything. Not after she had just started choosing something for herself instead of for Danixtl, for the Empress, for someone else’s damned agenda. She was not allowed to die.

Xixi’s paws hit the ground harder. The trees blurred by faster.

Malakai’s breath came ragged.

"If she dies,”

he muttered, mostly to himself, but Xixi heard him—felt the grief threading through every syllable.

"I’ll never forgive myself.”

Xixi bared her teeth. You and me both.

They ran. And ran.

Toward salvation, or toward the edge of a blade. She didn’t know. But if death wanted Nix, it was going to have to fight for her.

I blinked and found myself back inside my own body.

The world lurched as my consciousness slammed into place like a door being kicked open, and I gasped, my throat raw and burning. A ringing sound filled my ears, my vision swimming as I tried to take in my surroundings.

We weren’t in the jungle anymore.

A throne of woven branches and wicked thorns loomed before me, tangled with flowering vines and dripping with pearls of dew. Upon it sat a woman with long, wavy burgundy hair, her piercing violet eyes locked onto me with the sharpness of a blade. A crown of blood-red roses encircled her head, their petals impossibly vivid against the pale gold of her skin. She draped herself over the throne in an almost lazy fashion, but there was nothing relaxed about the way she watched us—assessing, measuring, waiting.

“Why have you come here?”

Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it carried like a war horn, the weight of it vibrating through my bones.

The floor beneath me was covered in a bed of magenta petals and golden leaves, their colors rich against the dark, polished wood. A chandelier of cascading flowers and glowing fireflies hung overhead, swaying slightly in the humid air. The whole room pulsed with life, as though the trees themselves breathed around us.

“Queen Adele,”

Malakai said, bowing his head and lowering his gaze.

I blinked slowly, my head heavy, my body weighed down by something unseen. My veins still burned, but the pain felt distant now, like a memory instead of something real.

The queen’s translucent wings beat in slow, deliberate movements, a mist of golden dust falling from them like drifting pollen. The glow of it clung to the air, catching the soft candlelight.

“I am not a charity,”

she said, voice as smooth as honey but threaded with steel. Her violet gaze flicked to me before settling back on Malakai, utterly unimpressed.

"And yet, you bring me a half-dead human and expect my Curadors to be at your disposal?”

She laughed then, a sound like wind through thorns, sharp and biting.

"How do you expect to repay me if I decide to help you? You know I have no use for tenos.”

I wasn’t sure if it was the fever still twisting through my veins or something else entirely, but I knew, with certainty, that this was a dangerous woman. More dangerous than Malakai had prepared me for.

The unmistakable ring of unsheathed steel echoed through the chamber.

Malakai knelt before her, lifting his sword on the palms of both hands. The weight of the gesture made my stomach drop.

“The blade of a Bloodguard,”

he said, voice steady.

"I offer it in exchange for her life.”

The queen stilled, her eyes glittering as she straightened in her throne.

“You’d part with it?”

she murmured, the sharp edges of amusement curling at the corners of her lips. Her gaze flicked to me again, this time slower, considering.

"To help this . . .”

She waved a dismissive hand in my direction. “Human?”

I clenched my jaw, willing my body to move, to react, but I could barely keep my head from rolling to the side. My breath came shallow and quick, the poison still coiling through my limbs. Damn it.

I forced my eyes to Malakai, searching his face, his expression unreadable. His grip on the sword was unwavering, his shoulders squared in quiet defiance.

Something inside me cracked.

He was doing this for me.

A Bloodguard’s blade wasn’t just steel—it was a part of them, a symbol of their oaths, their duty. And yet, he was offering it up. For me.

For me?

Malakai’s voice was sharp enough to cut through steel.

"Will you help her or not?”

Queen Adele clicked her tongue, like she was scolding a child. Her fingers toyed with the petals of a flower growing from the armrest of her throne.

"She must mean a great deal to you if you’re willing to part with such a valuable possession.”

Her violet eyes glittered with something knowing, something dangerous.

“Adele.”

His voice was razor-sharp, his jaw tight.

"I won’t offer again.”

She sighed dramatically, stretching out her limbs as though this was all a game to her.

"Though the sword of a Bloodguard is an intriguing offer, I find myself in need of something additional.”

Her gaze drifted, slowly trailing down Dom’s body, lingering in places that made my skin crawl.

Malakai’s entire body went rigid, his fingers flexing at his sides.

"Ask anything of me,”

he bit out, voice low and venomous.

"But leave my crew alone.”

Queen Adele smirked, her lips curving in amusement.

"So protective.”

She flicked her gaze toward me, and an instinctive chill ran down my spine. There was something greedy in her expression, something calculating. Like I was something rare and fragile, a trinket to be examined and coveted.

Malakai bared his teeth in response, his canines lengthening slightly. A growl curled from his throat, low and lethal, his fingers clenching over the hilt of his sword like he had to physically stop himself from using it.

The queen only laughed, standing in a slow, deliberate motion that sent golden dust scattering into the air.

"I find myself in need of adamas,”

she mused, tilting her head.

"The mines in the Lobos Mountains are heavily guarded and patrolled by the Aguatitlans, and I can’t risk sending my warriors to fetch it.”

Adamas. When it came down to it, it was always about the adamas. That rare, nearly indestructible metal, imbued with magic as old as Las Madres themselves. Strong enough to shape the strongest weapons. Reinforce the most impenetrable armor. Danixtl had waged wars over it. And now this Hada woman wanted it too.

Malakai’s jaw clenched.

"What do you need adamas for?”

The queen’s lips curled at the edges.

"That is my business. The only thing that concerns you is whether or not you accept my terms.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose.

"How much do you need?”

Adele’s eyes gleamed like a cat’s catching the light.

"Oh, I think . . . one ton will do.”

Malakai’s hands curled into fists.

"That kind of transfer will wipe me out. It’ll take days for me to recover.”

“I won’t offer again,”

the queen said smoothly, tossing his own words back at him like a blade between the ribs.

I could see it in the way Malakai’s shoulders rose and fell, in the tension in his jaw—he was running through every possible outcome, trying to find a way out of this. But there wasn’t one.

Finally, he exhaled through his teeth and spat, “Fine. I agree.”

Queen Adele’s delighted laugh rang through the chamber.

"Then we have a deal.”

She snapped her fingers, and from the shadows, a man stepped forward, his wings shimmering like fireflies in the dimly lit room, each slow beat leaving trails of golden dust in the air.

Malakai’s grip on his sword tightened, like his instincts were screaming at him not to let go. But he forced himself to release it, handing it over with a tension so sharp it could have drawn blood. The winged man accepted the blade with careful hands, holding it like something precious before turning and disappearing back into the darkness.

I watched Malakai’s face, his expression unreadable, but his hands curled into fists at his sides.

I tried to cling to the moment, tried to stay awake, but the heaviness in my limbs was too much. The world tilted, my vision blurred, and just before I slipped back into unconsciousness, I saw Malakai’s face—tight with barely restrained fury—and Queen Adele’s satisfied smile.

Then everything went black.