Kaison Pov
The hours had bled together as I worked, hunting shadows and secrets, the horror of Project K still raw on my mind. My eyes ached from blue flame afterimages—hints of what my power could do, and what I would unleash on anyone who touched her.
And then—I felt it. Something pulling at me, deeper than magic, deeper than instinct. A tearing, desperate ache, a signal that bypassed all sense. The air around me crackled, and my power—my carefully reined blue flame—flared wild as if called by something or someone.
One moment, I was at my desk, the taste of cold coffee on my tongue. The next, I was somewhere else entirely—plunged into whirling darkness, the world stripped away until only one thing remained: Amiriah.
She was there, her shadow curling in agony, her bloodied frame like a black hole at the center of a storm. My arms wrapped around her instinctively, gathering her up from behind. My flames licked at her shadows, the two magics swirling, clashing, dancing together and pulling us closer.
When I turned her around, her face was streaked with tears—her eyes red, staring through me as if I were a ghost. Her hands shook around a pair of scissors, bloody and trembling, and she gripped my shirt with a desperation that sent ice into my soul.
"PLEASE KILL ME, KAISON!" she sobbed, her voice splintered and hopeless. "PLEASE—I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE! Please—please—set me free. Just kill me, I can't—" She beat her fists against my chest, sobbing against me, the blood on her hands leaving bright stains. "WHY WON'T ANYONE LET ME GO?"
I locked my arms around her, squeezing hard, desperate to anchor her to something real. "No, Mira. I will not kill you," I gasped, voice cracking as her darkness whipped around us, almost alive. "Don't you see? You have something to live for. You're not alone, not anymore, not while I'm here."
Her sobs only grew louder. "Why, why are you here? Why did you follow me into this hell? I just want it to stop. The pain. The nightmares. The—"
I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her memories free, make her see me instead of whatever haunted her vision now. "Mira—please. Remember," I choked out. "Remember us. Remember—"
But she only clawed at my arms, almost feral with grief, shrieking, "THERE'S NOTHING LEFT! I HAVE NO ONE! I LOST EVERYTHING! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND—"
The darkness and my blue flames suddenly reacted to our agony, swirling higher and higher, merging—sparks of ghostly blue tearing through shadows that grew blacker, sharper, hungrier. The energy went wild, as if our combined pain was spilling into the world, rending it apart.
I tried to shield Amiriah, pulling her tight against me as daggers of shadow and fire plunged toward us from every direction, even the ground beneath our feet. For a heartbeat, I wondered if this was how it would end—not in battle, but consumed by the magic that defined us both.
And then—agony exploded in my chest. I gasped, looking down to see a spike of darkness punching all the way through me, black as midnight and cold as oblivion.
The world spun, but I forced myself to focus on her. Taking her face in my bloody hands, I made her look at me. Her eyes were huge—utter shock, and for a heartbeat, she seemed to see me, really see me, as if some memory flickered at the edge of her pain.
I smiled, blood in my mouth, and kissed her—deep, desperate, as if I could give her all my love in that one, final act. For a moment, she kissed me back, a sob caught between us. I buried my hand in her hair, savoring the silk of it.
I broke the kiss, my breath shallow, and whispered against her lips, "I love you, Mira. I love you. Don't forget that. Live. Please, live."
She was crying, shock pouring over her face as the spike pulsed between us, blood mixing with tears on her cheeks.
The world grayed at the edges. I never got to tell her. About our missing year. About what we could have had.
She clutched at me, screaming my name, as everything faded to darkness and fire. All I could hope—before the cold took me—was that she would remember, someday, and know she was never, never alone.