The air turned electric.
Velcrin stepped forward, the ground cracking beneath his armored boots. Shadows bled from his form, coiling like living serpents across the floor. His eyes — hollow and burning with cold fire — locked onto Elyra and Kael with lethal purpose.
Elyra instinctively stepped in front of the Weaving Flame, the threads of power still dancing around her wrists.
Kael's sword flashed into his hand. "You're not taking her."
Velcrin chuckled, a sound like dead leaves scraping stone. "Oh, I don't need to take her. I only need her to break."
He thrust his staff forward — a bolt of frozen flame tore through the chamber.
Kael met it head-on, sword glowing with the Flame's power. The blast hurled him backward, crashing into the far wall. Blood smeared the stone.
"Kael!" Elyra cried, but there was no time.
Velcrin raised his hand again — this time summoning twisted figures from the shadows. They had once been human. Now, they were husks — veiled in darkness, their bodies stitched with threads of pain. The Lost.
They surged toward her.
Elyra's heart pounded. The Weaving Flame pulsed at her side.
Use me, it whispered.
She reached inward — and the fire answered. Threads of pure light lashed out, wrapping around her fingers like a loom coming to life. With a sweep of her arm, she cast the threads forward — weaving a barrier of light that incinerated the first wave of the Lost.
Velcrin narrowed his eyes.
"So she awakens."
He leapt — impossibly fast for something so massive — and brought his staff down toward her.
Elyra barely dodged. The blow split the stone floor. Sparks and ash exploded around her.
Kael surged from the rubble, his blade catching Velcrin's next strike. They locked eyes, weapons trembling with raw force. "You're not touching her," he snarled.
Velcrin shoved him back, then lunged again — but this time, Elyra was ready.
She raised her hands. Threads of flame spiraled around Velcrin's limbs — slowing him, burning him — but not stopping him.
He roared and broke free, hurling Kael aside once more.
Elyra ran to Kael, dragging him behind a shattered pillar.
"You're hurt," she whispered, pressing her hand to the wound at his ribs.
He winced but smiled. "Better me than you."
She cupped his face, her eyes fierce. "Don't say that. You're not disposable. Not to me."
A flash of vulnerability crossed Kael's eyes. "I don't care if I die, Elyra. As long as you live."
She leaned in — the words caught between them.
And then, without thinking, she kissed him.
It was not soft. Not gentle. It was fire meeting fire — the pain, the love, the rage, all woven into one stolen moment.
And then they rose — side by side.
Together.
Elyra stepped forward, hands blazing with golden threads. Kael followed, sword radiating the Flame's fire. As Velcrin charged, they didn't run.
They fought.
Magic and steel collided with ancient darkness. Threads lashed out like whips. Kael moved like a shadow, blocking blow after blow. Elyra wove spells in the air itself, twisting fate around them.
Velcrin staggered, momentarily blinded.
Elyra focused all her power — the threads gathered in her hands, glowing brighter and brighter until they burned like a miniature sun.
"For my people," she whispered. "For Kael."
She hurled the light forward.
It struck Velcrin dead in the chest.
He screamed — a sound that shattered the very stone beneath their feet — before vanishing in a storm of smoke and ash.
Silence.
The air was still. The darkness gone.
Kael stumbled forward. "Did we…?"
"No," Elyra said quietly, her gaze fixed on the blackened place where Velcrin had stood. "That wasn't the end. Just a warning."
She turned to Kael, her expression somber. "He knows I'm not ready yet. He let us live."
Kael touched her hand. "Then we train. We prepare. And next time… we finish it."
She nodded.
Behind them, the Weaving Flame still burned — steady, waiting.
But now, it burned inside both of them.