They came out of the marsh like shadows pulled into shape.
Six of them. Then more behind. Boots sank into wet ground without slowing their pace. Faces calm. Eyes sharp. These were not men fueled by fear or hatred. They were focused. Prepared.
The one in front raised a hand.
They stopped instantly.
That frightened her more than shouting ever could.
She stood between them and Elion, mud soaking the hem of her clothes, blood on her hands that was not hers. Elion leaned weakly against a fallen log behind her, breath uneven but stubbornly present.
"You do not need to do this," she said.
The leader studied her with unsettling calm. His hair was streaked with gray. His eyes held no malice.
"We have been doing this longer than you have been running," he replied. "You are the last uncontrolled source left."
"I am not a thing," she snapped.
"No," he agreed. "You are a consequence."
The words settled into her chest like stone.
She felt the fire coil, tight and restrained, waiting for permission she refused to give. Beneath it, that new force stirred again. Quiet. Precise. Listening.
The leader's gaze shifted briefly to Elion.
"He should not still be alive," the man said.
Her blood went cold.
"You touched the balance," he continued. "Something answered. That is why we are here now, not later."
"So you kill us," she said bitterly.
"No," he replied. "We separate you."
Her breath hitched.
"Elion goes free," the man said calmly. "He will be protected. Hidden. Forgotten."
Elion laughed weakly behind her. "That is generous. And disgusting."
She did not turn around. She could not.
"You come with us," the leader finished. "Willingly, or restrained."
The marsh seemed to hold its breath.
She felt it then. The truth beneath the words. They would not slaughter villages. They would not burn forests. They would take her apart slowly, carefully, until nothing dangerous remained.
Until nothing remained at all.
Her hands shook.
This was what staying always cost.
Elion spoke softly. "Do not do this."
She turned to him then.
His face was pale, jaw clenched against pain, eyes burning with something fierce and unyielding.
"You once asked what would happen when the world caught up," she said quietly. "This is the answer."
She stepped back toward him and knelt, pressing her forehead to his.
"I am sorry," she whispered. "I wanted more time."
He grabbed her wrist, grip weak but desperate. "We will find another way."
She smiled through tears. "You already gave me one."
She stood.
The leader watched closely as she faced him again.
"I will go," she said.
Elion shouted her name.
She did not look back.
"But not like this," she continued.
The leader's brow furrowed. "Explain."
She drew in a breath and let go.
Not of control.
Of fear.
The fire did not erupt.
The ground did not split.
Instead, the air bent.
Pressure rippled outward in a wide, invisible wave, forcing every man to their knees. Weapons clattered into the mud. The marsh shuddered but did not break.
She walked forward slowly, power thrumming through her veins, shaped and deliberate.
"I am done being chased," she said. "If you want me, you walk beside me. Not behind me. Not over the bodies of the people I love."
The leader stared up at her, stunned.
"This changes nothing," he said.
"It changes everything," she replied. "Because now I choose."
Silence stretched.
Then the leader lowered his head.
"Bind your wounds," he told his men. "We stand down."
Elion's breath caught.
She turned back to him at last, eyes shining with pain and resolve.
"I will come back," she said softly. "I swear it."
He held her gaze, heart breaking, hope burning stubbornly beneath it all.
"I will be here," he replied. "Even if the world tries to forget me."
She nodded once.
Then she walked away.
And for the first time since the city burned, she did not run.
The hunt was over.
The reckoning had just begun.