The flames died slowly, reluctantly, leaving Selena kneeling on the obsidian with Dante's body cradled against her chest. The silence that followed was absolute—no wind, no distant thunder, no crackle of fire or spark of electricity. Just the ragged sound of her breathing and the slower, shallower sound of his.
Wait.
His breathing.
Selena's head snapped down, her tear-blurred eyes focusing on Dante's face. His chest was moving—barely, irregularly, but moving. Through the broken bond between them, she felt nothing, just empty space where his consciousness should have been. But his body was still breathing, still fighting, still refusing to let go completely even though the storm-heart that had animated him was gone.
"Dante?" she whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming. "Can you hear me?"
