Page 216 of Elemental Becoming

But my eyes remain fixed on the scorched marble floor, on the place where I stood when the first scream cut through the music. I remember the sounds before anything else.

The crash of shattering glass.

The sharp edge of panic.

The instant everything changed.

I remember the heat flooding my veins, magic flaring wild and untamed as panic surged through the room. I remember the fear in people’s eyes, the chaos, the blood. Calryx’s scream echoed through my mind, begging me to focus, to hold on.

And Thane.

Carving a path through the fire, coming for me with fury in his eyes.

My pulse kicks up. I close my eyes long enough to take a controlled breath. The memory is branded beneath my skin, seared into the deepest parts of me.

The bond tightens across my chest, hot and insistent.

He feels it. My fear, the way it’s rising again.

Then his thumb brushes across my knuckles, pulling me back from the edge of the memory. Just like that, the panic loosens its grip. I breathe deeply, searching for the steadiness I need, and turn away from the wreckage.

“We should go,” I say, my voice even now. “There are people waiting.”

Thane nods, and without another word, we continue down the corridor hand in hand. I let the solidness of his grip anchorme, quieting the thoughts still trying to pull me backward.

The air changes again as we move deeper into the castle and the bustle of life replaces the silence. Voices echo through the halls in a constant murmur, and the scent of poultices and bloodroot gradually replaces the lingering smell of smoke. Now the castle smells less like battle and more like its aftermath.

The infirmary doors stand open.

Inside, the space is crowded but orderly. Beds line the walls, every one occupied. Some patients sleep while others sit upright, their expressions wary but alive. Healers move steadily between them, offering quiet encouragement as they check wounds and replace bandages.

Morning light pours through the wide windows, and a gentle breeze stirs the curtains. Even so, the coppery scent of blood lingers beneath everything else.

A few heads turn as we enter, and conversations dip into low murmurs. Then more faces shift in our direction, the atmosphere in the room changing as attention settles on us.

They’re looking at Thane and me. The Warlord and the Spiritborn.

Some nod. Others simply stare. But in their eyes, I see understanding and relief. They needed to see us alive. They needed to see us standing together.

Valen’s words drift back to me.

It’s time she was known to the realm.

As my gaze moves across the room, I think I understand what he meant.

They told me what I would be. Valen with his prophecies and Thane with his discipline. They trained me, educated me, and prepared me for this role. And yet, now that I’m here—truly here—standing in the aftermath of blood, ash, and survival, it feels heavier than I ever imagined.

Not because of the title, but because of the reality.

This isn’t a legend anymore. It’s a war. And they’re looking at me as though I might have the answers.

So many pairs of eyes. Their hopes. Their fears. Their grief. Their need for someone to believe in.

The weight of it presses against my chest until breathing becomes difficult. For a moment, the room blurs around the edges. The conversations fade into a dull roar, and panic begins to rise, sharp and sudden.

Then warmth washes through the bond. A pulse of reassurance pushes back against the rising tide of panic. I turn toward Thane. His smoke-gray eyes are fixed on mine, unwavering.

“You can do this. I’m right here, by your side,” Thane says softly.