Solan is a whirlwind of flame and steel, his movements as fluid as they are deadly. The air around him shimmers with heat, the flickering flames on his skin casting eerie shadows across his sharp features. He moves with terrifying precision, each swing of his blade cutting down another creature.
One lunges at him from the side, and he doesn’t even flinch. A column of fire erupts from his hand, engulfing the attacker in midair. It screeches, the sound high-pitched and awful, before collapsing into a smoking heap.
I can’t help but stare for a moment, caught between awe and something far more dangerous—a primal, breathless appreciation of his sheer power. He’s magnificent, a force of nature, and the sight of him is enough to make my pulse race.
But there’s no time to dwell on it. Another creature charges at me, its jaws wide and slavering. I sidestep, driving the butt of my gun into its skull with all my strength. It yelps, momentarily stunned, and I take the opportunity to fire point-blank into its chest. “You’re one ugly motherfucker.” The words spill out even as a slightly hysterical grin forms.
Then Solan is in my space, his own grin wide, his eyes heavy with lust. “Did you just…?”
I roll my eyes, my smirk still in place, my adrenaline flying so high, I don’t even give a shit that I’m sharing an Arnie moment with him in the middle of a bloody battle. I lose his smile when he spins—a dagger soaring from his hand to land in the centre of the mini monster’s forehead.
“Behind you!” Shanae shouts.
I whirl just in time to see another ugly fucker leaping for me, its claws outstretched. There’s no time to aim—I raise my arm instinctively, bracing for impact.
Before it can reach me, a fiery whip lashes out, catching the creature and yanking it to the ground. Solan strides forwards, his eyes blazing as he finishes it off with a clean slice of his blade.
“Are you all right?” he asks, his voice tight with concern.
“I’m fine,” I snap, adrenaline coursing through me and all humour long gone. “Focus on those fucking monsters!”
He hesitates for the briefest of moments, his gaze flicking over me to ensure I’m unharmed before turning back to the fight.
The monsters are relentless, their snarls and screeches filling the air as they press their attack. Shanae and her team hold their ground, their weapons a mix of advanced tech and brutal simplicity. Jamie clings to Calythra’s side, his face pale but determined.
“You dirty fucking Fraggles!” Shanae shouts, her voice sharp.
I glance over in time to see two creatures circling towards her. Without thinking, I aim my rifle and fire, dropping one. The second leaps for her, but she meets it head-on, driving a wickedly curved blade into its chest.
I take stock, the sounds of screams and grunts lessening. For all their ferocity, the weird-arse monsters are no match for our steel and determination. What the hell am I talking about? No match for Solan. Sure, my rifle came in handy, and the others protected and took down a few, but it’s Solan who’s unstoppable, his flames cutting through the growing darkness like a beacon. Every movement is purposeful, each strike devastating.
As the last creature falls, semiquiet descends over the clearing. The only sounds are our ragged breaths and the distant calls of jungle birds.
The clearing is a mess of scorched earth and fallen bodies, the air heavy with the acrid scent of smoke and charred flesh. Jesus, there are so many. What I’d thought of as a small group of maybe ten is so not right. There must be twenty, maybe more, scattered monsters at our feet.
Solan’s flames have burned out, leaving him standing amidst the wreckage like some mythic warrior, his blade dripping withdark ichor. He breathes heavily, his chest rising and falling, the faint glow of embers still flickering across his skin.
The rebels are staring at him, their expressions a mixture of awe and thinly veiled horror. Shanae, previously so composed, looks like she’s not sure whether to thank him or step cautiously away. Yetaria mutters something low in a language I don’t understand but with a tone that doesn’t need translating—disbelief, reverence, and a touch of fear.
“That was…,” Shanae begins, trailing off as her gaze sweeps over the carnage. “Impressive doesn’t quite cover it.”
“Terrifying fits better,” Yetaria says bluntly, his eyes fixed on Solan as though he might burst into flames again at any moment.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Shanae mutters, rubbing her temples, “but I think I’d rather face another pack of those things than him in a fight.”
I glance at Solan, and my pulse skips. The rebels might be horrified, but I’m a far cry from that. Watching him fight was like watching raw power unleashed, each movement precise, every flame-tipped strike beautiful and deadly.
And maybe that’s part of the problem—how much I felt it, the sheer pull towards him. Even now, blood smeared across his cheek, his shirt torn, he’s standing there like he’s walked out of a dream designed to ruin me.
I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady as I step closer to him. “Are you okay?”
He doesn’t answer right away, his molten-gold eyes scanning my face for any sign of injury. Finally, he nods, his voice low and quiet. “You?”
“I’m fine,” I manage, though the look in his eyes makes it hard to breathe.
“You didn’t have to protect me like that,” he says, his fingers brushing the back of my hand briefly. “Didn’t have to fight.”
“You were protecting me too,” I point out, though my voice wavers just slightly. “It’s what we do. I know you’re the warrior here, but I can handle myself.”
