Reya collapsed as soon as the words left her mouth.
Jace caught her before her body hit the floor, her blood soaking through his shirt in seconds. Lena rushed to the door and slammed it shut, fingers glowing as she traced a quick sigil across the wood. It sparked red, then faded into invisibility.
"A ward?" Jace asked, lowering Reya to the floor.
"Temporary," Lena muttered, standing over them. "It'll buy us ten minutes. Maybe."
"She's burning up," Jace said, brushing Reya's sweat-soaked hair from her face. Her skin was pale—too pale—and her breaths came shallow and fast.
"Poisoned," Lena said, crouching beside him. She sniffed Reya's arm and grimaced. "Cult blade. They coat them in soulroot. It doesn't just kill you. It undoes you."
Jace stared at her. "Undo?"
"Like you never existed."
"Fix it."
Lena looked at him—hard. "I'm not a healer."
"Then find one."
Before she could respond, the candles in the room flickered—and then extinguished all at once.
Saela stepped through the doorway from the back room, robes half-on, her eyes sharp and calm like a storm that had been waiting years to land. Her hand was already out, palm facing the door. She didn't even blink as the wood began to burn inward.
"I am," she said.
The ward on the door shattered in a burst of ash and red sparks.
And that's when the screaming started.
From outside.
From everywhere.
Saela knelt beside Reya, murmuring something in a tongue Jace didn't understand. Her fingers glowed faintly blue—ice-cold, steady. A soft pulse left her palm and sank into Reya's chest. The girl arched, gasped, and stilled.
"She'll live," Saela said, standing. "But only if you keep them out."
The building shook.
The front wall bent inward as if something massive had just slammed against it—something not made of flesh and bone.
Jace grabbed the sword.
Lena rolled her neck. The red fire danced at her fingertips again, brighter now. Thicker.
"Is this your idea of recovery?" she asked, smiling thinly.
"Only the premium package," Jace muttered.
The door exploded inward.
Smoke poured in—thick and black and alive. It curled along the ceiling, hissing like it was tasting the air.
And then it coalesced.
A man stepped through the broken frame, barefoot, draped in a cloak made of skin.
His eyes were pure black.
His mouth—stitched at the corners—ripped open with a wet sound as he spoke.
"Return her," he hissed. "Return what was stolen. Return the flame."
Lena stepped forward. "Come take it, freak."
He didn't flinch.
He raised one hand—and the shadows on the walls moved. Tendrils of darkness burst into the room, aimed straight at her.
Jace moved without thinking.
He swung his blade in a wide arc, the steel humming with that strange new pulse. It cut through the tendrils, severing them in a burst of black mist.
Lena grinned beside him.
"Now that's hot."
The cultist let out a shriek—something guttural and wrong—and lunged.
The fight blurred.
Jace ducked under a clawed strike and rammed the blade into the cultist's side. No blood—just smoke and ash. Lena unleashed a wave of red flame that hissed and snarled like it was alive. The creature screamed as its cloak caught fire.
More shadows poured in behind it—two, three, five more figures, all moving in unnatural jerks, like puppets with too many strings.
Saela threw her arms wide, chanting faster. The walls glowed, runes burning along the edges of the room, forcing the invaders to slow—just enough.
"Jace," she snapped, "get the girls out. I'll hold them."
"I'm not leaving you—"
"That's not a request."
A shadow beast pounced—Saela turned, eyes blazing, and detonated it with a gesture.
Lena grabbed Jace's arm, her face pale. "She's right. We can't beat them here."
"But she—"
"Will buy us time."
They didn't run. They bolted.
Jace scooped Reya's limp form into his arms, sword still in hand. Lena flanked him, throwing flames into every dark shape that dared reach for them.
They burst through the back exit and into the alleyway just as the building behind them exploded—a shockwave of blue and red light surging outward, vaporizing the immediate pursuit.
Jace stumbled, his legs screaming, lungs burning.
But he didn't stop.
They didn't stop.
Because behind them, the sky was starting to bleed.