He unleashed the storm.
Flames exploded from his arms, spiraling up the tunnel walls in arcs of pure wrath. The first wave of creatures didn’t even scream—they were ash before they hit the ground.
His sword was in his hand a second later, singing through the air like it remembered blood. The shard glowed brighter on his chest, feeding into the magic, into him.
He feltalive.Terrifyingly alive.
Because the Hollow inside him had stopped fighting.
It startedhelping.
For the first time, it didn’t whisper in riddles. Itsangwith his fire, poured strength into his bones. Not control. Not command.
Just...acceptance.
The creatures came in waves. Bodies twisted into mockeries of life, clawing, biting, shrieking in their guttural non-language. Some were fast. Some were brutal.
Cassian met them all.
With fire, steel, and the fury of someone who finallyknew.
He didn’t dodge anymore.
Hetookthe hits. Let the blood run. He fought like the end was already written.
Because it was.
It hadalwaysbeen him.
He had the bloodline, the mark, the fire.
He had thedeath.
He heard her shout his name behind him. Close. Too close.
Cassian turned, face bloodied, hand shaking. “Go back.”
“Fuckyou,” Seraphine growled, storming toward him, her glaive igniting. “I told you—we finish thistogether!”
He grabbed her, hauled her behind a collapsed column, and kissed her.
Hard. Desperate. Final.
She pulled back, wide-eyed. “Cass?—?”
“I’m sorry.”
“What—what the hell are you doing?—?”
“I saw it,” he said. “In Mirael’s vision. In the blade. In the flame. It’s me, Sera. I’m the price. I’m what seals the Hollow.”
“No.” Her voice broke. “No, you don’t get to decide that.”
“It already decidedme.” His hands cupped her face. “You have to go. You have to finish this.”
“Ican’t!”
“Youwill.” He pressed the shard into her palm. “Because you’re the only one who can lead them. But this? Ending the Hollow? That’s onme.It always was.”