Selene's blade clashed with steel, sparks scattering across the blood-soaked earth. Her body moved on instinct, but her mind—her heart—was no longer wholly in the fight.
I'm still here.
The whisper had slammed into her like lightning, carried not by sound but by blood, by the bond no warlord's chains could sever. Her son's voice. Rael. Not the weapon Malrik had forged, not the monster she feared she had lost—but the boy she had once cradled, the boy she had wept for every night.
Her grip faltered for half a breath, enough for an enemy's blade to slice against her shoulder. Pain seared, but it barely registered. Her eyes were locked across the battlefield, finding him through the smoke and storm.
Rael was on his knees, wings half-spread, chains burning molten patterns into his skin. His face twisted in agony, but beneath the torment, Selene saw something else. Defiance.
"Selene!" Kieran's voice cut through her daze, his hand snapping to her arm to steady her before another blow landed. His eyes burned into hers, fierce and unyielding. "What did you feel?"
She swallowed, her voice breaking with both pain and wonder. "He… he spoke to me. Kieran, he's fighting it. Malrik doesn't have him completely."
Kieran's jaw clenched, his blade sweeping in a deadly arc that sent another Hollow Flame warrior crashing to the ground. His dark gaze shifted toward Rael, studying the boy with a warrior's scrutiny. He saw it too—the hesitation, the tremor in Rael's blade, the spark of something not wholly consumed.
"That spark could get him killed." Kieran's tone was sharp, but beneath it pulsed something gentler. Hope.
Selene's eyes glistened with fire and tears. "Or it could save him."
The battlefield roared around them—steel against steel, cries of rage, the hiss of magic—but in that storm, Selene's world narrowed to her son. Every strike she made now was for him, every breath a vow.
She leaned closer to Kieran, her voice fierce with a mother's resolve. "I will not lose him again. If there's even a chance, Kieran, I will tear down every chain with my bare hands."
Kieran's gaze held hers, steady, grounding. His hand brushed against hers just briefly, a fleeting anchor amidst chaos. "Then we'll do it together."
Selene exhaled, steadying her fire. She raised her blade high, silver light igniting along its edge. For the first time, the glow pulsed not with rage, not with vengeance, but with hope. Hope that even in the darkest forge, the true flame of her son could not be smothered.
Across the battlefield, Rael lifted his head. His golden eyes locked with hers, and though Malrik's shadow wrapped him tight, Selene swore she saw recognition.
Not weapon.
Not warlord's puppet.
Her son.
And for the first time since his capture, Rael's lips curved into something that was not a snarl, not a scream—something almost human. Almost free.
Selene's heart seized. The fractured flame had not gone out.
It was waiting to burn.