As Aric faltered, Mira leapt between them. Her blade struck the Serpent's arm, drawing black blood.
The Serpent roared, shadows thrashing, but Mira stood firm.
"You don't own him!" she cried. "He's more than fire, more than your cursed Crown. He's Aric!"
Her voice cut through the storm. For a heartbeat, the fire inside Aric stilled—not raging, not hungering, but listening.
He looked at her, at the fury and the faith burning in her eyes. And he understood.
The fire wasn't chains. It wasn't destiny. It was choice.