She shook her head violently, hair whipping in the wind. “No. No, I’m not leaving you again. Not now.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“Neither do you.” Her eyes blazed, Whitefire flaring behind them like a second sunrise. “You made me a promise, remember? ‘Together or not at all.’”
He tried to laugh, but it came out a choked groan. “I didn’t think you were paying attention.”
“Cassian—”
“I love you.” It came out before he could stop it, raw and broken. “Fuck, I love you, Sera. If this is how it ends, I just—I needed you to know.”
“Stop talking like that.” She was already pulling him tighter against her, already shifting her grip to press her palm to his wound. “You’re not dying. You’re not fucking dying on me.”
“It’s too much,” he whispered. “You’ll burn out.”
“I’m not afraid of the fire anymore,” she said, eyes wet and wild. “Because it’s ours now. Yours and mine. Together.”
She kissed him.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t pretty. It was desperate and messy and full of rage and grief and the kind of love that could split mountains.
The moment her lips left his, she screamed. It wasn’t pain. It was power.
The Whitefire erupted from her chest—blinding, blistering, beautiful. It didn’t just rise; itanswered. Itknew.
Cassian’s body convulsed in her arms as the flames touched him, wrapped around him, crawled beneath his skin. But it wasn’t burning. Ithealed.
Not the way a healer would stitch flesh. But the way stars remade themselves in the dark.
Stormfire burst from his core in response. Their magics collided like ancient gods, not clashing—but fusing. Melding.
The air shrieked. The earth cracked. The blade behind them surged brighter than the sun. And he felt it.
Her flame. His storm.Their bond.
Their bloodlines, once cursed to destroy each other, were now one. Not just metaphor. Not just myth.
Real.
Cassian gasped as the fire settled into his soul, not scalding—but reshaping. A new rhythm bloomed in his chest, deep and fierce. He was still bleeding, still on the edge of collapse, but he wasn’t alone.
He’d never be alone again.
The light dimmed. And he saw her.
Seraphine, holding him close, her skin glowing faintly, eyes locked on something behind him.
He tried to turn. She didn’t let him.
“No,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”
But her gaze was sharp. Distant.
Her body stiffened.
The flames behind her parted like a curtain. And Mirael stepped through.
Not burned. Not touched.
