The world ends in flames.
Not all at once.
It starts with a sound—a low, resonant thrum that vibrates through the earth like a heartbeat too large for one body to contain. Then heat slams into the clearing, violent and sudden, ripping the air from my lungs. Someone screams—Callen, I think. Or maybe Mayla. I can't tell. The roar of fire swallows everything else, a living thing tearing through wood and soil and sky.
"Sam—!" I shout, but my voice disintegrates into the inferno.
The forest ignites.
Trees go up like torches, bark blistering, leaves shriveling into ash midair. The smell is overwhelming—sap burning, damp earth hissing, old moss screaming as it dies. Fire races across the ground in veins of white-hot light, consuming everything in its path.
This is it.
This is where it ends.
I clamp my eyes shut as instinct finally catches up with inevitability, my body bracing for agony—for silver-bright pain, for flesh to burn and bones to crack and the long mercy of death to take me.
Cade, I think, not even sure if the thought makes it through the chaos.
If this is it—
Then we die standing, he answers immediately, no fear in his voice. Only sorrow. Only pride. For her.
The heat crashes over me.
I wait for the pain.
It never comes.
Seconds stretch—too long. Too wrong.
I suck in a breath, shocked to find my lungs still working, my chest still rising. The fire wraps around me, thick and luminous, but instead of searing… it settles. Like a living thing recognizing me. Like a hand pressed to my back.
I open my eyes.
The flames are everywhere—curling around my arms, licking at my legs, pouring past my shoulders in rivers of light—but my skin is untouched. Not a single burn. Not even the sting of heat.
Around me, the others realize it too.
Mayla stares at her hands, wide-eyed, flexing her fingers as fire dances between them harmlessly. Melanie coughs once, then laughs shakily, disbelief cracking her voice. Callen drops to one knee, breath heaving, eyes locked on the inferno that refuses to hurt him. Head bowed in reverence to his Queen.
The fire doesn't consume us.
It protects us.
'A ward,' Cade murmurs, awe threading through him. 'Not destruction.'
My gaze snaps to Samantha.
She stands at the center of it all, unmoving, her entire body wreathed in flame so bright it hurts to look at her. Not silver. Not moonlight.
Fire.
Raw. Ancient. Wrathful.
Her hair floats around her like it's underwater, eyes burning—not glowing, but burning—a deep, violent red that has nothing to do with Emma. This isn't her wolf's rage.
This is Samantha.
Broken.
Unleashed.
"Oh Goddess," I breathe.
The ground beneath her feet fractures.
From the cracks, roots of fire burst free—thick, serpentine tendrils of living flame that slam into the dirt and move. They slither across the forest floor with purpose, splitting and branching, racing outward in every direction.
Hunting.
They shoot past fallen trees, curl around scorched rocks, tear through undergrowth like it isn't there. The woods scream as they go—wood snapping, earth boiling, shadows fleeing.
'She's searching,' Cade says, voice tight. 'She doesn't even know what for anymore. Just… something to punish.'
My heart twists.
This is what grief has done to her.
This is what we let happen.
"How did I miss it?" I whisper, the words ripped from somewhere deep and raw. "How did I not see any of this coming?"
Images crash through my mind—Jered's easy smiles. Valen's simmering resentment. The Elders' hollow reverence. Dirge's quiet grief that I mistook for loyalty.
All of it right in front of me.
Under my rule.
Under my nose.
'You trusted,' Cade says, but there's no comfort in it. Only truth. 'That was never a weakness. But it became one when monsters learned how to wear masks.'
The roots of fire suddenly pause.
All of them—every blazing tendril except one—flicker, then vanish in a hiss of steam and ash, collapsing back into nothing.
One remains.
It stretches taut, glowing brighter, pulling toward the dark edge of the forest like a living compass needle.
Sam's head snaps up.
She turns sharply, eyes locking onto the line of fire like it just whispered a secret only she could hear.
"Sam!" I shout again, stepping forward, fear clawing its way up my spine. "Wait—don't go alone!"
She doesn't look back.
The flames around her collapse inward in a violent rush, swallowing her whole—
And then she shifts.
The explosion of light resolves into motion, into fur and muscle and power. A massive white wolf slams into existence where she stood, her pelt blazing with residual heat, eyes still burning red as fresh blood.
She throws her head back and howls.
Not a command.
Not a call for aid.
A vow.
The sound rips through me, through Cade, through every bond I have ever known. It is grief and fury and promise all braided together, and it leaves no room for argument.
Then she bolts.
She follows the lone thread of fire straight into the woods, tearing through smoke and ash, disappearing into the darkness with terrifying speed.
Gone.
My chest constricts painfully.
"She's chasing them," I say, already moving. "Whoever escaped. Whoever she missed."
'And if she catches them like this,' Cade warns, fear sharp now, there won't be anything left. Not of them. Not of her.
I don't hesitate.
"Everyone who can still stand—after me," I bark, voice carrying despite the chaos. "We do not let her do this alone."
Because I know this truth now, as clearly as I've ever known anything:
If Samantha loses herself completely to this fire—
The kingdom won't be the only thing she burns to ash.
And I will not lose her.
Not after everything.
Not like this.