13

SHE WATCHED AS HE RAN TO THE remaining sylphs and their loyal crew. “Retreat! Retreat!” Wes yelled, throwing up a shield around them as they ran away.

Nat stood stock-still as the flames grew taller and wilder around her. The white fire was stronger now—hotter, but she felt no warmth. Instead, a current of electricity ran through her body; she was alive, awake, energetic. Without Wes to hold it back, the ball of flame was now a hurricane of fire, a tower that stretched up and out over the bloody fields and into the drone-filled sky. It leapt up into the clouds, turning them to mist. It billowed still higher, shedding a light as pure as starlight, illuminating the field of battle. A wondrous, fearsome sight. The light shone upon the faces of the soldiers, making their pale faces turn a shade whiter. They looked like ghosts, their mouths gaping, eyes staring in wonder.

Protect them from me, she had told Wes as the hurricane became an even greater storm, a tempest beyond imagining. She watched as the survivors hurried to Wes’s side, as he stood in the middle of the crowd, eyes closed, focusing on his magic. The shield he crafted was invisible, a glass dome like the one that shielded the El Dorado. It sparkled when the flames touched it. He would keep them safe. His power was everything that hers was not. It was safety, protection. It was silent and invisible, quiet like the man who wielded it. His magic could do no harm. For the span of a heartbeat, she wished that was her talent as well, but Nat had a different lot in life.

When the last survivor was safe beneath the shield, she let out the rest of her flame. She opened up her every pore, unleashing all the power within her. She half expected the soldiers to run, to flee back through the portal, but the men would not stand down. They faced her flame with rocket fire, an endless barrage of bullets. Gunshots tore through the great inferno, but none reached Nat. The flames consumed all of it. The heat melted their ammunition, crumpled their tanks. It scorched the earth itself, turning trees into glowing toothpicks, burning down the trunks, incinerating the roots, leaving only holes in the earth. Her fire twisted through the armies of the RSA, leaving heaps of molten metal, clouds of smoke.

Only Wes stood against the flame. His power kept the people of Apis safe as the fire rippled across the battlefield. The transparent shield glowed yellow and orange reflecting the flames. Nat caught glimpses of the people huddled together inside. As the next wave hit the dome, it sparkled again, turning gold. But the next blast tore the shield and a cascade of flame poured into the dome. Screams echoed against the roar, her tempest.

No! she cried, dampening the fire until the hurricane of flame subsided as Wes worked to close the hole.

That was when the bullet struck her, as the soldiers took advantage of her moment of weakness. The bullet tore through the flesh of her upper arm. The flames rose once more around her, as a second bullet whizzed past her ear, and something exploded nearby. The sound was deafening.

I need to finish this. Nat drew the flames around her, letting their heat build, stoking the great fire, the ever-expanding storm. While her fire built up again, the army changed tactics. They gave up fighting Nat and trained all of their guns of the people of Vallonis. Every bit of their firepower was aimed at Wes’s shield. The shield had turned from gold to brown to black, and the dome was flexing, like a bubble about to pop.

The people within crowded together, their eyes on the flames and collapsing dome. Wes strained as he held the shield. Peering through the flames, Nat caught his gaze. The grim set of his mouth told her she had to do it, to give it every last bit that she had. He would hold the line. He would not let the shield collapse; nothing would come through. His strength matched her own.

Confident in his power, that he would keep them safe from her, Nat called up the biggest fireball she could create. The field became a churning ocean of fire, a roiling sea of death. Its white tongue danced over and consumed every surface, turning the field and everything and everyone on it into dust. The fire sparked the connection between her and Mainas once more. In the fire, she was one with her drakon, and so she let it rage as long as she could, until every last bit of her power was spent. She was a wound, a gash, and now her life was bleeding out. She’d given it all to the flame.

Just like that, it was over. There was nothing left. Everything was ash.

Nat dropped to her knees.