Chapter 2 #2
Orange and red flames roar around me, devouring rooftops, licking toward the sky in jagged fingers. Smoke coils upward, thick and dark, blotting out the stars.
A scream splits the night—raw, piercing. Then—a deep, guttural rumble behind me.
I spin just in time to see one of the village homes cave inward. A beat later, the thatched roof erupts into flame—fire leaping high, wild and ravenous, devouring everything it touches.
The blaze throws jagged light across the street, painting the shadows in sharp, frantic motion.
Can the Fellborn wield fire?!
My heart stutters. My gaze locks on the flames—sharp and steady, rising fast.
No . . . no, that had to be something else. A hearth. A beam. Anything.
I want to believe that.
I have to.
My village is burning. The only world I’ve ever known, cracking apart in fire and fear.
And still . . . no Lyra.
I have to find her.
All around me, flashes of lesser magics bloom and vanish: a tremor ripples through the dirt; thin vines snap upward from the soil, snaring a shadowy limb; a trembling barrier of stone rises just in time to shield a doorway.
I almost laugh, a strangled, breathless sound. We’re Earth Clan folk, for gods’ sake. Our gifts are meant for coaxing gardens to flourish, for smoothing a rocky field—not for battle.
We feed the realm. We don’t protect it.
And yet, my people are pushing beyond everything we believed we could do. Driven by fear and desperation to save our families, their magics are stretching to their limits.
My neighbors shape raw earth into weapons—small and crude. Shields formed from stone and will. I see others Dustcalling, stirring loose dirt into the air, trying to create cover against the Fellborn. Some fling soil and rock like it’s all they have left—because it is.
And I can’t decide what’s more shocking: That we’re actually managing to hold them off . . . or that even with everything we’ve given—it still isn’t enough.
These Fellborn . . . they belong to the dark places—to the stories whispered in far-off cities. Not here in Liora. We’re days from anywhere that matters.
“Lyra!” I scream, finally spotting her a few feet away.
She’s frozen, wide-eyed, staring at a massive silhouette standing motionless in the middle of the main thoroughfare. A beast made of smoke and nightmare.
“Lyra, are you hurt? Did you find Revan and his family?”
I grab her shoulders. She’s trembling.
“My father’s helping them get to the woods.” Her voice breaks. “I don’t understand. They’re everywhere. They’re attacking everyone.”
I turn.
She’s right.
The Fellborn are multiplying.
Lyra drops to one knee, pressing her palm to the dirt. Roots snap upward, binding a creature’s limbs, pinning it for a heartbeat before it slices free.
She curses under her breath, tears streaking her soot-covered cheeks.
“My magics are not strong enough,” she chokes out.
A guttural hiss cuts through the air. We turn as a Fellborn with hollow eyes emerges from the wreckage of a collapsing cottage. My blood turns to ice. We can’t outrun that. Without thinking, I shove Lyra behind me, arms outstretched as if I can protect her.
The creature lunges.
For a heartbeat, time slows. I’m going to die, some part of me realizes—calm, detached, already resigned to my fate.
And then—everything rushes in at once.
A flurry of emotions slams into me—terror, rage, disbelief. Grief for a future I might never see. Guilt for not doing more with my life. The desperate, furious ache to live.
Something breaks within me.
A deep, rumbling crack splits through me, through the earth beneath my feet. I don’t channel it. Don’t shape it. I become it.
The ground shudders—then splits wide open with a deafening roar, forming a jagged maw beneath the nearest Fellborn. It stumbles in, the earth swallowing it whole.
The chasm seals shut behind it with a thunderous crack.
Silence.
A stunned beat of stillness follows. Even the shadows hesitate.
The ground is scarred, but whole again. And I’m standing at the center of it, trembling, breath ragged, hands still outstretched.
I did that.
The earth answered me.
A sharp intake of breath at my side.
I turn.
Lyra is staring at me, unmoving, her face ghost-pale in the firelight. She takes a slow, hesitant step back—eyes locked on the scorched line where the ground split open and swallowed the Fellborn whole.
“Amara . . . ” she whispers, her voice tight with fear.
I stare at my trembling hands.
The earth is not supposed to do that. Not without a proper channeler. Not without years of training. And definitely not without a dragon. Not from someone like me.
But the ground moved. It listened.
The silence around us trembles—then, without warning, a roar tears through the smoke.
Another Fellborn. Larger. Leaner. Faster.
It surges forward, shadow trailing like a cloak, its hollow eyes locked on me.
Several others begin to shift as well—snapping their heads toward me. As if they felt it; the power I just unleashed painted a target on my back. Their empty eyes lock onto me, like wolves sighting prey.
Claw-like fingers unfurl from the ends of their arms—jagged and too long, like shadows sharpened into weapons. They scrape against the stone as they walk, leaving deep gouges in the earth.
They don’t charge—they advance. A terrible, deliberate glide. The only sounds they make are the drag of limbs, the hiss of smoke, and the whisper of ancient raspy breath slithering through ruined mouths.
A surge of heat and energy floods my chest, bursting outward like a dam giving way. My vision goes white, and a roar tears from my throat. It might be mine—but it sounds inhuman.
Power explodes from my core, blinding and scorching—flames erupt at my fingertips, crackling with a force I’ve never felt before.
And then—without thought or aim—fire strikes the nearest Fellborn dead-on. The creature shrieks, then disintegrates into a cloud of black smoke.
The air sizzles in the aftermath. The scent of scorched shadow clings to my skin—sharp, acrid—like burning hair.
I stare at my hands again—trembling, burning with light. Flames curl from my fingers in soft, hungry spirals.
“What . . . ” My voice scrapes out, stunned. “What the fuck just happened?”
Lyra’s eyes are huge, a blend of terror and awe. “Mara, you—”
There’s no time to make sense of this. More creatures are closing in. Like they’re drawn to my power.
My hands twitch with a new tingling sensation, and a violent tremor runs through me. It is almost like it’s been waiting, lurking beneath the surface all along. The flames curling around my fingers feel almost . . . known. As if greeting an old, forgotten friend.
But there’s no time to question it. Only time to burn.
A fresh wave of shadowy figures skitters over the remains of a fallen wall.
Something ancient and primal roars to life inside me. I feel tears on my cheeks and terror in my heart. I raise my hands again.
With purpose, I let it move through me. Heat surges up my arms, my fingertips tingling as another wave of fire explodes outward.
They shriek as the flames consume them. A part of me registers the horror of what I’ve done—but another part thrums with satisfaction.
Lyra stares at my hands, eyes wide. “How are you doing this?!”
I swallow hard, but my throat is raw—scorched from smoke, from shouting, from power I don’t understand. “I have no fucking idea.”
For the first time, the Fellborn hesitate.
A new knot of fear coils in my gut, cold and sharp, but I shove it down. I don’t have time for fear. Not when my village is burning and I need to find my parents.
“Just keep doing it,” Lyra urges. “Let’s help whoever we can!”
I nod, eyes scanning the chaos—but then I freeze, realization slamming into me.
“Lyra—where’s your mom?!”
She grabs my arm, her grip like a vice. “I don’t know! I only saw that my dad got Revan’s family out.” she says, her voice now shaking.
Dread claws its way up my throat.
“Then we go find her,” I say.
We run, dodging fallen beams and burning debris, the heat of fire pressing in from all sides. Lyra’s fingers tighten around my arm as we move, not letting go—as if doing so might tear the world even further apart. I don’t want her to let go either, needing the connection.
The air is thick with smoke, screams, and the sharp crack of splintering wood. Every breath burns. We race toward the center of the village, desperation pushing us faster with each step.
“Where are your parents?!” Lyra shouts, breathless as we run.
I stumble for half a heartbeat. The question hits like a blow to the chest.
“I . . . ” They aren’t where I left them. My voice falters. “I don’t know.” The truth crashes into me like a wave of ice. “With your mother, I think.”
I left them.
Gods, I left them.
My stomach twists, my lungs suddenly too tight, the fire in my veins dimming for a beat beneath the weight of guilt.
We keep moving.
My body is running on pure instinct, each motion fueled by a raw urgency to keep these people alive—my people.
I turn—Where are my parents?!
Adrenaline spikes again; I spot more shapes skulking at the edge of the torchlight, slipping between broken beams.
I push forward, swallowing the panic that claws at my throat. Every breath rattles with ash, every step feels like I’m wading through a nightmare. But I can’t stop. I won’t.
“Ly!” I cough through the smoke, “Stay with me!”
She tucks in close behind me. I need her to stay alive.
My eyes lock on another cluster of villagers racing across the courtyard; parents, kids, elders, all trying to flee the carnage and danger. Two monstrous silhouettes slither into their path.
I hurl another wave of crackling energy at the darkness. The beasts vanish in shrieks. I swallow hard, sweat trickling down my neck.
I feel a surge of relief when I spot my parents through the smoke, helping a group of villagers out of a two-story house that’s barely standing. Even from a distance, I can see the fear etched into their faces.