I lay buried beneath rubble.
Burnt beams pressed into my back. Shattered stone dug into my ribs. Every breath felt like dragging air through broken glass. My sword lay far away, its presence gone, its fire extinguished as if it had never existed. The connection was severed. Cold. Empty.
I coughed.
Blood spilled from my mouth, thick and dark, the metallic taste coating my tongue and throat. It wouldn't go away. Every swallow reminded me how badly my body was failing. The cut on my cheek burned as it split open again, warm blood trailing down my jaw.
I tried to move.
Nothing answered.
My limbs felt distant, like they belonged to someone else. My head throbbed violently, pressure pounding behind my eyes. Darkness crept in and out of my vision, the docks flickering like a dying light.
More.
The word slithered through my thoughts.
More rage. More fire.
The red dragon's presence lingered, no longer roaring, no longer commanding, but whispering. Tempting. Hungry. It wanted blood. It wanted the flames to rise again. It wanted me to give in completely.
I forced my eyes open.
The sky above the docks was dim, clouds hanging unnaturally low. My hearing sharpened for a moment.
Footsteps.
Slow. Measured. Calm.
Each step echoed like a hammer striking stone. With every one, the air seemed heavier, the darkness thickening, pressing closer. It felt like the world itself was shrinking around him.
Step.
Step.
Step.
I couldn't move. I couldn't lift my arms. Even my fire felt useless now, a dying ember against an endless void. I knew, without doubt, that I hadn't truly hurt him. I hadn't even slowed him down.
The steps stopped.
A shadow fell over me.
I looked up.
"That's all you had?" he asked.
His voice was low, smooth, utterly unbothered.
A hand wrapped around my throat and lifted me effortlessly from the rubble. My feet dangled uselessly as my vision swam. I spat blood at him, the last defiance I had left.
It splattered against his face.
He didn't react.
He wiped it away slowly, studying the blood on his fingers before flicking it aside.
"Persistent," he said. "I'll give you that."
His grip tightened.
"You know," he continued calmly, "Lord Drakna will find you… interesting."
My heart stuttered.
"You might be the key to something far greater than this."
"What are you talking about?" I rasped.
He smiled, faint and knowing.
"You don't need to understand yet."
His fingers closed tighter around my throat. The world dimmed rapidly, sound fading, pressure crushing my lungs. I clawed weakly at his wrist, my strength gone.
The dragon was silent now.
No whispers. No fire.
Only fear.
"I'll be seeing you again," he said quietly. "You have potential."
Darkness surged around his arm.
He raised his hand, preparing to strike.
And then he was gone.
No explosion. No sound.
Just absence.
The pressure vanished and I collapsed back into the rubble, gasping violently, dragging air into burning lungs. The sky above was clear again, as if he had never been there at all. No shadow. No presence. Only devastation.
I lay there shaking.
Alive.
Barely.
After what felt like an eternity, I forced myself to move. Pain screamed through my body as I rolled onto my side, then my knees. I vomited blood onto the dock floor and wiped my mouth with a trembling hand.
"I have to get back," I whispered.
Every movement felt wrong. Broken. My body protested violently as I dragged myself toward the fire escape. I climbed slowly, fingers slipping, muscles screaming, vision blurring with every step.
The pain was relentless.
I thought of Maya's scream.
Jordan being slammed into the ground.
Cameron frozen, helpless.
We got the souls back, I told myself. The people are safe.
So why did it feel like we lost?
I found my sword where it had landed and used it like a crutch. It flickered faintly, crimson light barely alive, matching the dull ache burning in my chest.
"One more step," I muttered.
"One more."
With every step, the truth sank deeper.
We weren't ready.
We had trained. We had prepared. And still, we were dismantled in moments. Not by an army. Not by some great warlord.
By one man.
Someone who moved through us like we were nothing.
My chest tightened.
"I was so weak."
By the time I reached the coffee house, my strength was gone. The moment I stepped inside, safety washed over me like a crushing wave.
And then everything went dark
I lay buried beneath rubble.
Burnt beams pressed into my back. Shattered stone dug into my ribs. Every breath felt like dragging air through broken glass. My sword lay far away, its presence gone, its fire extinguished as if it had never existed. The connection was severed. Cold. Empty.
I coughed.
Blood spilled from my mouth, thick and dark, the metallic taste coating my tongue and throat. It wouldn't go away. Every swallow reminded me how badly my body was failing. The cut on my cheek burned as it split open again, warm blood trailing down my jaw.
I tried to move.
Nothing answered.
My limbs felt distant, like they belonged to someone else. My head throbbed violently, pressure pounding behind my eyes. Darkness crept in and out of my vision, the docks flickering like a dying light.
More.
The word slithered through my thoughts.
More rage. More fire.
The red dragon's presence lingered, no longer roaring, no longer commanding, but whispering. Tempting. Hungry. It wanted blood. It wanted the flames to rise again. It wanted me to give in completely.
I forced my eyes open.
The sky above the docks was dim, clouds hanging unnaturally low. My hearing sharpened for a moment.
Footsteps.
Slow. Measured. Calm.
Each step echoed like a hammer striking stone. With every one, the air seemed heavier, the darkness thickening, pressing closer. It felt like the world itself was shrinking around him.
Step.
Step.
Step.
I couldn't move. I couldn't lift my arms. Even my fire felt useless now, a dying ember against an endless void. I knew, without doubt, that I hadn't truly hurt him. I hadn't even slowed him down.
The steps stopped.
A shadow fell over me.
I looked up.
"That's all you had?" he asked.
His voice was low, smooth, utterly unbothered.
A hand wrapped around my throat and lifted me effortlessly from the rubble. My feet dangled uselessly as my vision swam. I spat blood at him, the last defiance I had left.
It splattered against his face.
He didn't react.
He wiped it away slowly, studying the blood on his fingers before flicking it aside.
"Persistent," he said. "I'll give you that."
His grip tightened.
"You know," he continued calmly, "Lord Drakna will find you… interesting."
My heart stuttered.
"You might be the key to something far greater than this."
"What are you talking about?" I rasped.
He smiled, faint and knowing.
"You don't need to understand yet."
His fingers closed tighter around my throat. The world dimmed rapidly, sound fading, pressure crushing my lungs. I clawed weakly at his wrist, my strength gone.
The dragon was silent now.
No whispers. No fire.
Only fear.
"I'll be seeing you again," he said quietly. "You have potential."
Darkness surged around his arm.
He raised his hand, preparing to strike.
And then he was gone.
No explosion. No sound.
Just absence.
The pressure vanished and I collapsed back into the rubble, gasping violently, dragging air into burning lungs. The sky above was clear again, as if he had never been there at all. No shadow. No presence. Only devastation.
I lay there shaking.
Alive.
Barely.
After what felt like an eternity, I forced myself to move. Pain screamed through my body as I rolled onto my side, then my knees. I vomited blood onto the dock floor and wiped my mouth with a trembling hand.
"I have to get back," I whispered.
Every movement felt wrong. Broken. My body protested violently as I dragged myself toward the fire escape. I climbed slowly, fingers slipping, muscles screaming, vision blurring with every step.
The pain was relentless.
I thought of Maya's scream.
Jordan being slammed into the ground.
Cameron frozen, helpless.
We got the souls back, I told myself. The people are safe.
So why did it feel like we lost?
I found my sword where it had landed and used it like a crutch. It flickered faintly, crimson light barely alive, matching the dull ache burning in my chest.
"One more step," I muttered.
"One more."
With every step, the truth sank deeper.
We weren't ready.
We had trained. We had prepared. And still, we were dismantled in moments. Not by an army. Not by some great warlord.
By one man.
Someone who moved through us like we were nothing.
My chest tightened.
"I was so weak."
By the time I reached the coffee house, my strength was gone. The moment I stepped inside, safety washed over me like a crushing wave.
And then everything went dark