Page 90 of Claimed By Flame


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He staggered back, bile rising.

“You’re lying.”

“Am I?” Her voice lowered, lips near his ear. “You’ve felt it. The pull. The rage. The hunger. It’s not just power. It’s alignment. You are meant to open it.”

“No,” he rasped. “No, I’m not?—”

“Why do you think the blade chose you?” she whispered. “Why did you survive when no one else should have? Why do you see more? Feel more?”

He turned away, hands shaking.

“And her?” Mirael pressed. “You think the prophecy means she’ll stop you? That her love will save you?”

Cassian clenched his jaw.

“You’ve seen it, haven’t you?” Mirael said, soft and sharp. “The future where she dies. The way your fire turns to rot. You can’t stop it. Because this is what you were made for.”

“I’d rather die,” he snapped.

“Again?” Mirael purred. “How many times do you think you can cheat it?”

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The memory of Seraphine’s face—bloody, pale, still—ripped through him like lightning.

Mirael’s voice softened. “You were born from betrayal, Cassian. Cast aside by a House that feared what you were. You think you’re the weapon of their salvation, but you’re not. You’re the punishment.”

He closed his eyes. “No.”

“You were never meant to save the world,” she said, stepping in front of him. “You were meant to burn it clean.”

“I won’t do it.”

“You will,” she said, smiling sadly. “Because the longer you fight it… the more she’ll suffer.”

He lunged.

His blade lit with stormfire, crackling and wild, but it stopped inches from her chest. Mirael didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

“You can’t kill a whisper,” she said gently. Then the shadows surged.

They wrapped around him, pulling him down, and the last thing he saw was her face again—not Mirael’s.

Seraphine’s.

Dead.

Still whispering his name.

THIRTY-SEVEN

SERAPHINE

The wind howled through the broken arches of Skyforged as dawn bled into the stone like fire across frost. Seraphine stood at the altar, ink-dark sky burning out to pale ash behind her. The ancient beacon in the center of the ruins waited—untouched, unlit, forgotten by time and blood alike.

All she had to do was finish the seal. Light it. Send the call to the remaining Houses.

But she never got the chance.

The shadows behind her moved, and the temperature dropped like someone had dragged the Veil itself into the room.