She refused to believe it.
Denial came first, sharp and desperate. She pressed her hands harder against Elion's chest, as if force alone could command life back into him.
"Breathe," she whispered. "Please."
The forest offered no answer.
Her ears rang with silence. Too complete. Too final.
She shook him, gently at first, then with rising panic. His head lolled to the side, lashes resting unnaturally still against his cheeks.
"No," she said again, the word breaking apart in her mouth. "You do not get to leave. Not like this."
Her chest burned.
Not with fire.
With grief.
The power inside her stirred, reacting to the ache ripping through her. It pressed against her ribs, restless, hungry.
She clutched her head, gasping. "Do not," she begged it. "Do not take him too."
Memory crashed over her.
The city.
The bodies.
The hands that went cold in hers.
She had lived this before.
She bent over Elion, forehead pressed to his, tears soaking into his skin.
"I stayed," she whispered. "I stayed for you. You promised."
Her voice cracked.
She had never asked the world for anything.
Now she begged.
"I will go," she said to the empty air. "I will run. I will disappear. I will never love again. Just give him back."
The forest groaned softly, branches swaying as if listening.
The stones hummed faintly.
Still nothing.
Rage replaced despair.
The fire roared to life, flaring violently around her. Flames climbed the stones, lit the trees, turned grief into fury.
"You cannot take everything," she screamed. "You cannot keep doing this to me."
The ground trembled.
She felt it then.
A pulse.
Faint.
Weak.
She froze.
Her breath hitched as she leaned closer, ear pressed once more to Elion's chest.
There.
A heartbeat.
Barely there.
She laughed and sobbed at the same time, hands shaking as she forced herself to calm.
"Stay," she whispered desperately. "Just stay."
The fire withdrew, dimming as quickly as it had risen.
Elion gasped.
A shallow, broken breath tore into his lungs. His body jerked, coughing weakly.
She cradled his head, crying openly now, pressing her face into his hair.
"You do not get to scare me like that," she said through tears.
His eyes fluttered open.
"You look… angry," he murmured faintly.
She laughed again, half hysterical. "You died."
"I did not," he said weakly. "I considered it."
She hit his chest lightly, then froze in fear of hurting him. "Do not ever do that again."
He smiled faintly, pain etched into every line of his face.
"I will try," he whispered. "But loving you seems dangerous."
She held him tighter.
The hunters were gone.
The forest was scarred.
And somewhere beyond the trees, something had felt her grief and answered.
Love had not let him go.
But it had demanded a price she had not yet seen.