Light broke and then fell away. Ari staggered as if the floor had dropped under her feet. Dust filled her mouth. Her ears rang with a sound that was not sound but weight - like stone being pushed into her bones. The shard under her sternum had fused with the one from the altar, and now both burned as if they were trying to decide whether she was enough space to hold them.
When she blinked, the chamber was gone. Or half gone. The ribs of stone still stood, but they sagged inward as if the mountain had grown tired. Cracks ran across the roof. The altar had split in two. Her hand still rested on the crystal. But there was no crystal anymore. Only a warmth that throbbed inside her, as much part of her as her blood.
Her brother's hand found hers in the dark. "Ari?" His voice shook.
"I'm here," she said. Her throat hurt, as if the dust had scraped it raw. She pulled him against her side. "I promised, didn't I?"
Kael coughed hard and leaned on his spear. His face was pale. His eyes, though, burned sharp on her. "What did you do?"
"I answered," Ari said. Her voice was steadier than she felt.
Behind them, her father pulled himself up from the rubble. His sleeve was torn. His hand bled from where stone had scored it. He looked at Ari once, and in that look was pride, fear, and grief. "We need to move."
The ground shook again. A rumble rolled through the fissure. Dust poured in lazy sheets from above. The mountain was remembering how to fall.
"This way," Kael said. He jammed his spear into a crack and widened it with a grunt. Cold air pushed through. The smell of outside. "It leads out."
They moved, pressed tight by the stone. Ari kept her brother ahead of her, one hand on his back, the other pressed to her chest. The shard burned but not wild. It pulsed, deep and measured, like a second heart. It made her skin hum as if the air had more weight.
The fissure spat them out onto a slope. Night had come. The fields below were still burning. Lines of fire carved the valley into black and gold. Smoke crawled low, smothering the stars. The cutters hung like silent knives above it all. Their running lights were pale eyes watching.
Her brother clung to her arm. "We have to find Mother."
"We will," Ari said. She hoped the word sounded true.
They started down the ridge. The heat from the burning rows licked their faces even from this distance. Shadows ran in the smoke - people fleeing, soldiers chasing, some falling and not rising again. The sound of it was worse than the sight. Shouts, crying, the flat crack of rifles, the roar of flame.
Halfway down the slope, her father stopped. His chest heaved. He pressed a hand hard to his ribs. Blood leaked between his fingers.
Ari grabbed his elbow. "You're hurt..."
"Later," he said. He coughed and spat dark. His eyes shone fierce in the firelight. "Listen. You take your brother east. Past the second ridge. There's an old friend. Seryn. She keeps goats near the limestone shelf. She will hide you."
"You're coming with us," Ari said. Her voice shook.
"I can't," he said. His hand clamped down on hers. "If I slow you, you both die."
Her brother's face crumpled. "No! You can't..."
Her father pulled him close, pressed a kiss to his hair. "You're my breath. You're my better half. You will outlive me." He pushed him into Ari's arms. "Keep him safe."
Kael swore under his breath. His jaw clenched so hard it looked like it might crack. He glanced at Ari. "We don't leave him."
The shard pulsed. Ari felt its heat flow into her chest, into her blood. She wanted to say she could heal, that she could fix the wound. But the shard was not mercy. It was fire and memory. It held strength, but it did not bend the world backward.
Her father drew his knife and shoved it into Kael's hand. "You'll need this more."
"I can fight..." Kael started.
"Not tonight," her father cut him off. "Tonight you live. That's the fight that matters."
The slope shook under a new roar. A cutter descended, fire spilling from its belly in streaks. The rows lit brighter. The heat punched their faces.
Her father pushed them. "Go!"
They stumbled down the ridge. Ari kept her brother pressed against her side, Kael running close. Behind them, her father stood tall on the slope. His figure cut black against the fire. He lifted a broken spear, his shoulders squared. Soldiers spilled from the smoke, rifles raised. He shouted a word that vanished under the roar, but Ari heard it anyway.
Her name.
The world split. Gunfire. Fire. Her father falling back into flame.
Ari's brother screamed. She crushed his head against her chest and dragged him on. Her throat locked, but no sound came out. The shard burned until her ribs ached. Kael grabbed her arm and yanked her forward.
"Run!" he shouted.
They ran. Through smoke that clawed the lungs, past shadows of neighbors scattering, past the bodies that did not move anymore. The shard pounded with every step, hot and merciless, a brand against her heart.
They reached the edge of the fields. The flames hissed behind them. The cutters wheeled overhead, lights sweeping. Ari stumbled into the trees and collapsed to her knees. She pressed her brother against her chest and held him so tight he fought for breath.
Kael stood over them, spear gripped in both hands, eyes scanning the dark. His jaw trembled once. He did not let it break.
The shard's heat pulsed slower. Ari pressed her palm against her sternum. It felt like the crystal was watching her. It had taken her father's last sight. It had burned his shadow into her memory. Now it beat steady, as if to say: carry.
Her brother sobbed into her chest. Kael's hand touched her shoulder, heavy and awkward. He said nothing. He did not need to.
The family had fallen. But the shard had chosen. And Ari, whether she wanted it or not, had to live with both.