Ariel

  Ariel lay on her back, half-conscious, the sky above her a blur of swirling dust and smoke. Every breath scraped her throat raw. The world tilted and swayed; she could barely tell up from down. The roar of the canyon rolled over her like thunder, and through the haze she could feel the ember in her veins. A dim, stubborn pulse that refused to go out.

  Chains clattered somewhere nearby, and the ground shook with distant impacts. The fight raged on beyond her sight, but all she could do was breathe, blink, and fight to stay tethered to the world.

  The Veylun loomed in the distance, half-shrouded by the swirling grit. Its green fire flickered faintly through the haze as it roared and thrashed against Fornaskr’s evasive strikes. Tréga’s laughter cut through the storm like a jagged blade, shrill and unending.

  Ariel’s grip slipped on her staff, blood slicking her fingers. Her vision blurred. The wind screamed through the canyon and she thought, distantly, that she was sinking into the dark again. The air shimmered above her, gold and pure. Soft. A silhouette formed against the dying light. A woman’s shape. Her shape.

  The thought broke through the fog. Her lips moved, cracked and dry.

  “Holly…?” The whisper was small, almost lost beneath the chaos.

  Fornaskr’s voice cut in, rough and urgent. “Ariel! Stay with me!”

  She blinked, slow and dizzy. He was suddenly at her side, his eyes wild, scanning her wounds.

  “Don’t close your eyes, you hear me? You can’t sleep here. Not now.” He tapped her cheek, desperate to keep her awake.

  Her head lolled weakly. “Fornaskr… what—”

  He didn’t answer. His hands tore through her pack, pulling free the bottle of Dewwater the Sylari had gifted her before they left the village. He popped the cork with his teeth, ignoring the dust caked on his skin.

  “Drink. Now.”

  He lifted her head and poured the cool liquid past her lips. It slid down her throat like condensed sunlight, and for an instant she couldn’t breathe. Then the warmth hit her chest. A rush of life, pure and clean. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. The ember in her blood flared brilliant orange, racing through every vein. Torn skin sealed; her vision snapped into focus.

  She gasped, the sound breaking like a wave.

  Fornaskr exhaled sharply. “Good. That’s it. Stay with me, Ariel.”

  She pushed herself upright, every muscle shaking. The battlefield came back into clarity: The Veylun’s towering shape, Tréga’s grin glinting through the haze… and above them, light.

  She followed it with her eyes. And there she was.

  A figure suspended in the air, golden threads streaming from her hands, from the glowing spindle she carried. It was impossible, beautiful, and real.

  Ariel’s eyes went wide as her breath trembled.

  “It’s her,” she whispered. “It’s really her.”

  Fornaskr looked up, his jaw tightening in awe and confusion. “What in all the gods…”

  A chain scythe cracked the air above them, slicing toward the golden figure.

  Holly

  Holly had no time to think. Her eyes had seen Ariel’s crumpled form far below, her heart plummeting. Fear. Grief. The memory of another crash, another broken body in her arms, came roaring back. She could feel her pulse in her throat. The spindle in her hand trembled, its threads flaring wild and bright.

  “Please,” she whispered. “Not again.”

  A chain sang up toward her, green light swirling through its length. Instinct took over. She flung her hands outward, golden threads bursting forth, catching the scythe mid-air. The impact shook her arm to the bone. She clenched her jaw, breath shallow, eyes burning.

  The threads hummed in response to her will. She drew them tight, feeling the weight of the weapon through every strand. Her breath steadied. She moved her hands sharply to one side. The threads sang a pure, resonant chord, and the scythe spun free, wrenched from Tréga’s grip and hurled into the void.

  Below, the creature of chains shrieked. Holly hovered, chest heaving, eyes fixed on the battlefield below. Her throat ached with the pressure of a scream she couldn’t release.

  “Ariel…” she whispered again, voice shaking.

  Tréga’s smile cracked and reformed, manic delight spreading across her face.

  “Another of her memories made flesh?” She tilted her head, her eyes wide and wild. “How quaint.”

  Holly steadied her breath. Her voice came quiet but steady. “I’m more than a memory.”

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  The grin sharpened.

  “Oh, you’re the grief! How delicious…” Tréga’s chain coiled, forming halos around her. “Let’s see how you bleed.”

  Holly’s eyes glistened, tears hot against her cheeks.

  “You shouldn’t have touched her.” She lifted the spindle. Threads flared from her palms like sunlight through storm clouds. “That was your last mistake.”

  The air between them cracked. Tréga lunged, chains whipping forward. Holly met her halfway, the golden threads weaving out in front of her like a living shield. Chains and light collided, gold and green crashing with a hiss like burning metal. Sparks of memory and oblivion burst outward, lighting the canyon in pulsing waves.

  Ariel

  On the opposite side, Ariel steadied her feet, gripping her staff. The Dewwater’s warmth coursed through her, but the ache remained. Fornaskr stood ready beside her, daggers drawn, eyes darting between her and the monstrosity.

  The Veylun shifted, massive claws digging furrows into the stone. Its movements were slower now, but each one made the canyon tremble.

  Ariel planted her staff, pushing down hard. Roots tore from the dirt, wrapping around the creature’s legs in a web of bark and thorn. It bellowed, twisting, but the bindings held long enough for Fornaskr to slip in under its bulk.

  He struck twice: once across the knee, once deep into the side. Each hit drew that strange, otherworldly ichor, the color of dying moss.

  Ariel felt the pulse of warmth above her. Holly’s threads, still bright, shone through the storm. The light reached her through the haze, and she felt it resonate inside her the same way her heart used to race when Holly’s hand brushed hers. Her chloromancy swelled in response. The roots around the Veylun glowed faintly gold before turning a deeper green, their grip hardening.

  Holly

  Holly touched down lightly on the canyon floor, sending out a ripple of dust. She didn’t flinch. Her eyes locked on Tréga, whose laughter echoed, unbroken even now.

  Chains whipped around Tréga’s form like serpents, the sound shrill enough to cut the air.

  “Your soul is damaged, gold one,” she purred. “I want it...”

  Holly moved first. Threads slashed forward, slicing through a volley of chains. The two met in a storm of light and motion.

  Tréga’s strength was wild, untamed; her laughter turned to snarls as the chains sparked against the threads. The air rippled with the tension.

  “I won’t let you hurt her,” Holly said, her voice low, almost shaking. Each word drove the threads sharper, faster. “Not her. Not again.”

  Tréga’s chains lashed out, catching one of Holly’s arms and pulling her off balance. The pain flared hot. Holly twisted her wrist and snapped her fingers; the chain turned gold for a brief instant, then shattered.

  Tréga hissed. “Your light will fade. All light does.”

  Holly raised her spindle, her breath ragged. “You first.”

  Ariel

  The two battles played out in mirrored rhythm. Ariel and Fornaskr striking in perfect tandem against the beast, Holly clashing with the avatar of madness. Light and fire reflected across the canyon walls.

  Every time Ariel drove her staff into the earth, Holly’s threads flared brighter; each pulse of gold answered the flare of green below. The canyon itself began to hum a low, resonant chord that filled the space between.

  Fornaskr slashed at the Veylun’s flank, leaping back just in time to avoid a crushing strike. The creature reeled, chains dragging through the dirt as it screamed. “It’s weakening!” he shouted. Ariel nodded, sweat and blood dripping down her face. She could feel the link between herself and Holly above.

  The warmth in her chest was no longer just memory. It was a pulse. Alive. Answering her in rhythm.

  The sky flashed gold again. For the first time since the battle began, the wind paused.

  Tréga froze mid-laugh, realizing what was happening. Her head snapped toward the glow in the distance, then back to Holly. “No threads! No pattern! No remembering!” she shrieked, her voice splitting.

  She jabbed one clawed hand toward the Veylun. “Crush the glowing one!”

  The creature obeyed instantly. It reared back, eyes burning sickly green, then lunged sideways toward the light descending from above.

  Holly barely had time to react. She turned toward the movement, threads already rising, but the Veylun’s massive arm swung through the air faster than she could weave. The blow caught her square in the chest. The impact thundered through the canyon.

  She flew backward, a trail of light and dust behind her, and hit the canyon wall with a hard, echoing thud that sent a tremor through the stone. She slid down the rock and landed on one knee, dazed but alive, the glow around her flickering, but holding steady.

  Ariel saw the whole thing.

  Her heart pounded. The breath caught halfway in her chest, and then there was nothing. No sound. No wind. Just the hollow echo of loss. Her body trembled, her knuckles white around the staff.

  The last vestige of willpower she had to hold down the fire had vanished.

  Her breath came in ragged bursts. The ember inside her chest flared wild and uncontrollable. The ground at her feet began to darken, grass curling into ash. Heat rolled from her in waves, and Fornaskr’s instincts screamed before thought could form.

  He turned. The air around her shimmered with distortion, like sunlight over metal. “Ariel…” he whispered.

  She didn’t hear him. The fire inside her roared. Her pupils tightened, reflecting the inferno building within. She could feel it clawing to escape, to burn everything that dared to harm Holly again.

  Fornaskr took one step back, then another. The heat seared the edge of his cloak.

  “Gods,” he breathed, realizing what was coming. He turned and ran, sprinting toward the far side of the basin where Shika crouched behind a shattered pillar.

  “Get down!”

  Ariel’s body arched forward as the scream tore free: raw, feral… inhuman. Flame and wind erupted from her in all directions. The canyon glowed red-orange as if dawn had fallen into it. The air itself warped.

  The sound came next. A blinding flash of light swallowed everything, the explosion ringing like the death of a star.

  The world went white…

  … And when the light faded, silence fell. A silence so absolute it felt unnatural. The dust settled in slow, glowing motes, and the canyon floor was a sea of molten glass.

  And at the center of it was Ariel.

  Hand on the ground.

  Haloed in heat.

  Wings of flame…

  …Eyes burning like twin suns.