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The pyre collapsed in on itself with a great explosion of sound. I turned my head to look, just in time to see Laney as she disappeared from my view, falling down into the blaze. Something inside of me broke in that moment. I had promised to protect her, and instead of getting her first, I’d gone after the Order, blinded by my rage and lust for revenge. I had failed her—she was all that I had now. I looked at what was left of the Order. They were all standing, watching me in silence. They were grotesque forms—not even dragon, certainly not human. They looked like misshapen clay figures—hastily fashioned golems. I roared in pain, anger. For the first time, fear crossed their faces. Fire exploded from my mouth.
They burned. They burned as they had burned my Laney. I saved Rakharo for last. He was running toward me, the sacrificial knife raised. He was going for my chest. I left the opening for him, drawing him into my trap. As he neared, I raised my claw, pinning him to the ground. I looked down at him. He was pathetic, malformed and warped. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving. He was going to remain that way for all eternity, doomed to be neither one nor the either.
He stabbed me with the knife, stabbing at the claw that pinned him to the ground. I screeched in pain, swiping with my other claw, tearing his head from his shoulders. With that, it was over. I bent my head forward mournfully. I had destroyed the Bostonian contingent of the Order. They lay on the ground around me, nothing but charred and mangled corpses.
I knew that there were others, in other cities around the world. I would go through, killing them all, until I was the last of my kind. We had no place in this world—we were too dangerous. Too warped. Too unstable. To only present half of your face to the world leaves you confused. After all, what was my identity? I was neither human, nor monster, and yet, I was both at the same time. I turned to the pyre, where they had sacrificed Laney. I shifted back into my human form, tears rolling down my cheeks. In my rage, I had failed her. I had failed her. It was all that I could think. I staggered forward in grief, falling to my knees before the flames that licked at the ink-black sky, roaring loudly. I could feel the heat of the fire on my skin. Again, I had found myself utterly and entirely alone.
Out of the flames, Laney stepped forward. She looked inhumanly beautiful—her skin pale and her hair platinum blonde. She was completely untouched by the flames. Her eyes were a brilliant orange, glowing like twin wheels of fire. She stood there, looking at me. She smiled. She was still herself, yet she was now something other. She was like a phoenix reborn, rising from the flames. I had to be dreaming, hallucinating—and yet, she was there.