Holly

  The world was still ringing from the blast. Heat rolled in waves across the canyon floor, and the scent of scorched stone filled the air. Dust drifted down in trembling sheets. The echo of the explosion clung to the walls like thunder that refused to die. For a moment, there was only that sound... and then the faint, trembling breath of those who had survived it.

  Holly stirred first.

  She was kneeling, the side of her body pressed into the cracked stone, her lungs struggling to catch the air. Every muscle ached. Her ribs screamed from the impact, and blood slicked her fingers when she touched her side. The world swam, bright and trembling, but she forced her eyes open.

  Light. Blinding, impossible light.

  She raised her arm to shield her eyes, squinting through her fingers. The air was alive, warping and humming with heat. And through that shimmer, she saw Ariel, radiant and terrible.

  Holly froze, breath catching in her throat. She had seen magic, sure... but nothing like this. Ariel stood at the epicenter of the blast, haloed in a storm of living fire. Her molten-red bodice glowed like it had been forged in the heart of the sun, scales of light shifting with every breath. The skirt below her waist trailed sparks that drifted upward instead of down, each flicker pulsing in time with her heartbeat. Bare feet touched glassed stone, leaving prints of glowing gold. Vast wings of flame unfurled from her back, their span filling the canyon’s hollow sky.

  Even from here, Holly could feel the unrelenting heat radiating from Ariel. It prickled against her skin, making her eyes water. She could taste the sulfuric scent of it on her tongue.

  Ariel’s head tilted slightly, the violet gem at her sternum burning like a star. The look on her face was no longer merely human. It was something beyond: calm, furious, divine.

  Holly’s lips parted. A whisper escaped. “Ariel…what…?”

  Her knees threatened to give. She pushed herself upright, wincing, clutching at the pain that bloomed with every breath. The heat distorted her vision, but she could just make out movement farther ahead. A figure crouched behind a jagged pillar of earth, shielding something small with his body. She didn’t know who he was. Didn’t care. He was alive, and in need of help.

  Holly spread her trembling hands. Threads of golden light unfurled from her fingertips like sunbeams drawn into shape. They lifted her from the ground, the air rippling as her feet left the stone. She rose, steadying herself, and shot toward the distant figure, her light cutting through the haze.

  As she flew, the wind from Ariel’s flames rushed past her face, carrying with it both warmth and fear. The world below roared with awakening fire.

  Ariel

  Ariel hovered in the air, the heat radiating from her body a visible distortion. Her every breath exhaled fire. Flames streamed from her hair in ribbons, each strand alive with motion. Her eyes burned twin gold, twin suns set in a sea of red. Her heartbeat thundered through the canyon.

  When she spoke, her voice carried two tones: one human, one divine, woven together in harmony. “Your laughter ends here, child of chaos.”

  Tréga’s reply was a broken giggle that warped into a shriek. “Oh, the spark found her fire! Or is it the fire that found her spark?! Who can tell!? Show me what you’ve learned to burn!”

  Ariel lifted her hand, rotating it slowly. Fire circled her wrist, spiraling outward, a tiny orb at first, then swelling into a molten sphere that pulsed brighter with each turn. Heat wavered the air, painting everything in red and gold. The orb grew until it glowed like a miniature sun, spinning faster, hungering for release.

  Then she drew her leg back, channeled the inferno into her body, and kicked.

  The fireball tore through the air like a comet, its roar splitting the canyon. Tréga dove aside, laughing as the blast missed her by inches—but the Veylun was not so lucky. The impact struck its chest, exploding in a wave of light that turned the world white. Stone shattered. Flames rolled outward in waves.

  When the blaze thinned, Veylun stood wounded—its sinew peeling away, flesh bubbling and sloughing from the bone. The sound it made was not a roar but a wail, animal and pitiful.

  Tréga’s eyes went wide. “No!” she screamed, her grin twisting back into rage. “You hurt my pet!”

  She swung her scythe, chains snapping like thunder. The blade screamed through the air, cutting for Ariel’s throat.

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  Ariel didn’t flinch.

  Her hand rose, catching the weapon mid-flight. Metal bit deep into her palm, molten blood spilling, but she didn’t react. Flames poured from her fingers, crawling up the scythe’s blade. It glowed white-hot, trembling, and then melted away, falling in molten drops that hissed when they struck the glassed earth below.

  Her eyes locked on Tréga. When she spoke, the air warped.

  “Fire forgives nothing.”

  Holly

  Holly landed beside the stranger, the heat still clawing at her skin. Without thinking, she spun threads from her spindle, weaving a shimmering dome around them. The golden weave rose high, humming as it caught the sparks that fell like fiery rain. The barrier dulled the sound of the world outside. A fragile peace in a place of ruin.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, crouching beside the man. His skin was streaked with ash and blood, his breathing ragged but steady. He gave a single nod, eyes on Shika.

  “The little one,” he said, voice rough as gravel. “She took a blow.”

  Holly followed his gaze. A small red panda lay beside him, fur singed at the tips, flank rising and falling fast.

  She gasped. “No… no, it can’t be—”

  The creature blinked up at her, mismatched eyes, hazel and violet, catching the light.

  Her heart twisted. Shika? The name didn’t even sound real here, yet it left her lips anyway. How was she here? How could any of this be real?

  Her vision wavered. The canyon around them felt… familiar somehow. The pattern of rock, the smell of dust and sap, the strange sense of déjà vu that scraped at her mind. Had she dreamed this place before?

  A low whine pulled her back. Shika rolled onto her side, revealing a gash down her front leg. The wound pulsed with shallow breath.

  “Oh, sweetheart…” Holly whispered.

  She brought the spindle to her hand, threads of gold spilling free. With trembling precision, she guided the light to the wound. Each strand wove itself into the flesh, stitching it shut in neat, glowing arcs. As the last thread sealed, the light sank into the fur. The wound vanished as if it had never been.

  Shika lifted her head, licking the place where the cut had been, then nosed Holly’s hand. The small, broken sound that escaped Holly’s throat was half a sob, half a laugh.

  “Thank the gods…” she murmured, brushing soot from the red panda’s cheek. “You’re all right.”

  The man beside her exhaled slowly. “You weave well, light-bringer.”

  She looked at him then, truly seeing him for the first time: his weathered features, the intricate runes etched into the edges of his armor.

  “You… know me?”

  He nodded once. “I am Fornaskr. And I know her name, and yours.”

  Holly hesitated, then said softly, “Holly.”

  He gave a faint smile, though his eyes never left the storm of flame in the distance. “I know.”

  Another explosion echoed through the canyon. Holly turned, watching Ariel and the towering monster clash in fire and fury.

  “What’s happening to her?” she asked, fear trembling beneath the words.

  Fornaskr’s jaw tightened. “The fire has always been there. Sleeping. I’ve seen it stir before, but... never like this.” His gaze hardened. “It has woken. Entirely.”

  Holly’s breath caught. She stared across the wasteland, to the woman haloed in flame—the woman she loved, reshaped into something otherworldly.

  “Come back to me... please,” she whispered, voice shaking.

  The words barely left her lips before another roar tore through the canyon. Holly’s light flickered as the shadow of Veylun rose again.

  Ariel

  Ariel soared higher, wings trailing gales of heat. The air shimmered under her command. Below, Veylun lunged, flinging tendrils of spectral flesh that lashed the sky. Ariel twisted through them, her movements sharp and fluid, flame arcing in her wake. The few that struck her burned out instantly against her searing aura, leaving only ribbons of smoke.

  One tendril shot wide. She caught it, gripping the burning limb with both hands. With a cry that split the heavens, she swung the beast over her shoulder and hurled it into the ground. The impact shattered stone and glass, sending a tremor through the canyon.

  The creature rose again, reeling, sinew hanging loose. Tréga stumbled back, her grin returning like a wound that wouldn’t close.

  “You think that’s power?” she howled. “You’ve only lit the wick!”

  She drew a jagged dagger from her boot, its edge gleaming with sickly green light.

  “Let me show you how to truly light the world on fire!”

  Ariel’s eyes narrowed. “Enough riddles, phantom.”

  Tréga plunged the dagger into her own abdomen.

  No blood came. Instead, light poured out: green and writhing, screaming faces flickering within it. The canyon filled with whispers. Souls. Dozens of them.

  Tréga laughed through the pain, voice cracking into a manic hymn.

  “Madness remembers what sanity cannot!” She staggered forward, one hand still clutching the dagger, the other pressing against Veylun’s chest. “Let us be one!”

  The green light surged. Veylun screamed, the sound splitting and doubling until it became Tréga’s laughter. The flames engulfed them both, twisting skyward.

  Ariel struck, hurling a punch of pure fire, but the green blaze met her halfway, matching her heat, burning her back. She faltered, eyes narrowing as the light swallowed them.

  When the smoke cleared, the shape that rose was monstrous and new. Veylun reborn, stretched tall and thin, flesh sculpted into a mockery of Tréga’s form. Black ichor dripped from its limbs. Bone and sinew wound into scythes clutched in each hand.

  The face split into a grin that was half-beast, half-Tréga.

  “Now, little spark…” the fused horror crooned, voice vibrating with overlapping tones. “Let’s burn the memory of you from this wretched world.”