Zara's POV
The gemstone burns my hand the second I touch it.
I should drop it. Every instinct screams at me to let go. But I can't. My fingers won't move. They're stuck to the stone like it's holding me instead.
Heat crawls up my arms. It wraps around my chest, squeezing my heart. I can't breathe. Can't think. Can't—
Screaming.
Someone's screaming inside the stone.
No. Not someone. Something. A voice so broken and raw it doesn't sound human anymore. It sounds like pain given a voice. Like three hundred years of torture compressed into sound.
"Stop," I gasp. "Please stop."
But it doesn't stop. The screaming gets louder. And worse—I start to feel it. Not just hear it. Feel it. Every cut. Every burn. Every moment of agony trapped in this crystal prison.
My knees hit the floor. Tears stream down my face. This pain isn't mine, but it feels like it is. Like I've been the one locked away for centuries. Forgotten. Tortured. Left to go insane in the dark.
Just like how Davos left me. How Isla abandoned me. How everyone threw me away when I wasn't useful anymore.
"I know," I whisper to the screaming voice. "I know what it's like to be trapped. To be nobody. To have everyone betray you."
The screaming pauses. Just for a second.
Then the voice speaks. Actually speaks.
"Free me."
My blood drips from my burned palms onto the stone's surface. I didn't even notice I was bleeding.
The moment the first drop touches the gemstone, it cracks.
A thin black line splits down the middle. Then another. And another. Like a spiderweb spreading across glass.
"What did I do?" I breathe.
The cracks glow red. Brighter. Hotter. The whole stone starts shaking in my hands.
"What did I DO?"
The gemstone explodes.
The blast throws me backward. I fly across the room and slam into the wall so hard my vision goes black for a second. When I blink my eyes open, I see pieces of the crystal spinning in the air, glowing like tiny stars.
No. Not stars. Fire.
Each piece is turning into flame. Red flame. Gold flame. White flame so bright it hurts to look at.
The flames come together in the center of the room. Growing. Swirling. Building into something massive.
A shape forms in the fire. Wings. Claws. Eyes made of molten gold.
A phoenix.
An actual phoenix made of living fire, so huge its wings brush the ceiling. It screams—not in pain this time, but in rage and freedom and power that makes the whole temple shake.
I press myself against the wall, trying to make myself small. This is it. I freed it and now it's going to kill me.
The phoenix's golden eyes lock onto mine.
Then it changes.
The flames shrink. Compress. The wings fold inward. The massive shape gets smaller and smaller until—
A man stands there.
No. Not a man. Something wearing the shape of a man.
He's tall. His skin is bronze and covered in scars that glow like hot metal. His eyes are pure liquid gold, shifting and swirling like melted coins. His hair is copper-colored and floats around his head like he's underwater.
He's the most beautiful and terrifying thing I've ever seen.
"Three hundred years." His voice sounds like crackling fire. Like thunder. Like rage that's been building for centuries. "Three hundred years they kept me in chains."
He looks down at his hands. Flexes his fingers. Flames dance across his skin.
"And a dying thief sets me free." Those gold eyes focus on me. "How deliciously ironic."
I try to speak but my throat is too dry. My whole body is shaking.
He takes a step toward me. The stone floor turns black under his bare feet from the heat.
"You're dying," he says. Not a question. A fact. "Thirst. Exhaustion. Those burns on your hands will get infected. You have maybe two days left."
"Good," I croak out. "That's why I came here."
He tilts his head. Curious. "You came to the most dangerous place in the kingdom to die?"
"Better here than on the Magistrate's platform." I force myself to meet those impossible eyes. "Better my choice than theirs."
Something flickers across his face. Surprise maybe. Or respect.
"What's your name, little thief?"
"Zara." My voice is barely a whisper. "Zara Kahrim."
"Zara." He says it slow, tasting each letter. "The girl who freed the monster. The girl who shattered three centuries of chains with her blood."
He kneels down in front of me. We're eye level now. The heat rolling off him should kill me, but it doesn't. It just wraps around me like a blanket.
"Do you know what you've done?" he asks softly.
"Freed a fire spirit?"
"No." His smile is sharp and dangerous. "You've bound yourself to me. Your blood on the binding stone created an Ember Bearer contract. Your life force now anchors my magic." He touches my chest, right over my heart. His finger burns but doesn't hurt. "If you die, I return to that prison. If I lose control, you burn with me."
Horror floods through me. "No. No, I didn't mean to—"
"Too late." He stands. Flames swirl around his body. "We're connected now, Zara Kahrim. Your death is my death. My power is your power."
The brand appears on my chest. A flame symbol burning into my skin, spreading across my ribs. I scream. It feels like someone's carving me open with a hot knife.
When it stops, I look down. The mark glows red over my heart.
The man—the spirit—has the same mark appearing over his heart.
"Welcome to your new life, little thief." His gold eyes burn into mine. "Or should I say—what's left of it. Because that bond is draining you dry. You have hours, not days."
"Then break it!" I gasp. "I didn't ask for this!"
"I can't." His smile is cruel. "Only death can break an Ember Bearer bond. So here's your choice: learn to contain my power and survive, or die and drag us both back into that hell."
The temple starts shaking. Stones fall from the ceiling. His magic is unstable, wild, destroying everything around us.
"Choose quickly," he snarls. "Because I'm losing control."
His form flickers. Fire explodes from his skin, spreading across the walls.
And I realize with cold, absolute terror—I didn't free a spirit.
I freed an apocalypse.