(Rowan's POV)
The scream tears the grove apart.
Not just loud — wrong.
A sound that feels like claws dragging through the air, through the trees, through Elior's ribs.
Elior jerks in my arms, breath ripping out of him. Aeris gasps. Sylas's resonance spikes so violently the ground vibrates. Elias collapses to one knee, hands over his ears. Noctis's shadows snap outward like wings.
And the grief‑born Guardian stands at the edge of the clearing, chest heaving, eyes locked on Elior with a hunger that makes every instinct in me ignite.
I pull Elior behind me, my arm locking around his waist. "Stay with me."
His fingers clutch my sleeve. "Rowan—"
"I've got you."
The grief‑born Guardian takes a step forward.
Not stumbling.
Not broken.
Not whispering.
Purposeful.
Predatory.
Focused entirely on Elior.
"You're alive," he breathes, voice trembling. "You're alive."
Elior flinches behind me.
Aeris presses closer to him. "Don't look at him. Look at me. Breathe."
But Elior can't look away.
I feel it — the pull, the recognition, the ache. Something inside him is responding to the grief‑born Guardian, something old and buried and dangerous.
My fire curls around my fingers. "Don't come closer."
The grief‑born Guardian doesn't even blink.
"You died," he says, voice cracking. "You died in my arms. I felt your light go out. I felt you leave me."
Elior's breath stutters.
A memory slams into him — I feel it through the bond.
A flash of warmth.
A voice crying his name.
A world collapsing.
He sways.
I catch him. "Elior—!"
"I remember," he whispers.
The grief‑born Guardian freezes.
His eyes widen.
His breath stops.
His entire body goes still.
"You… remember me?" he whispers.
I step between them instantly.
"No," I snap. "He remembers dying. Not you."
The grief‑born Guardian's expression twists — grief, rage, desperation all tangled together.
"You're taking him from me," he whispers. "All of you. You're taking him again."
"No," Elior says softly, voice shaking. "They're keeping me alive."
The grief‑born Guardian flinches like he's been stabbed.
"No," he whispers. "No, no, no—"
His grief spikes.
The ground trembles.
The trees shiver.
The air cracks.
Elias screams as visions tear through him.
Aeris grabs Elior's arm.
Sylas's resonance flares violently.
Noctis's shadows surge forward.
And Elior—
Elior's light bursts outward.
A shockwave of pale, trembling magic explodes from his chest, slamming into all of us. I stagger but don't let go of him. Sylas gasps. Aeris cries out. Elias collapses fully. Noctis braces himself, shadows anchoring him to the ground.
The grief‑born Guardian stumbles back, eyes wide.
"Elior…" he whispers. "Your light—"
Elior clutches my arm, breath ragged. "I don't know what's happening—"
I pull him closer, grounding him. "You're here. You're safe. Stay with me."
But his magic is unraveling — I can feel it.
Threads slipping.
Memories waking.
Light cracking open.
Sylas drops to his knees in front of him, grabbing his hands. "Anchor to me. Don't slip."
Elior's fingers curl around his.
The resonance steadies — barely.
But it's enough.
For now.
The grief‑born Guardian takes a step forward.
"Please," he whispers. "Let me save you this time."
"No," Elior says, stepping back. "You're hurting me."
The grief‑born Guardian freezes.
And for the first time, he looks lost.
Truly lost.
"I don't know how to stop," he whispers.
Noctis steps forward, shadows curling around him like armor.
"I do," he says.
The grief‑born Guardian looks at him — and something ancient passes between them.
Recognition.
Memory.
Pain.
And then—
He lunges.
Straight at Elior.
I move before thought.
Fire erupts from my hands, slamming into the ground between them. Sylas's shadows lash out. Aeris pulls Elior back. Elias screams. Noctis moves faster than any of us.
But the grief‑born Guardian is faster.
His hand grazes Elior's light.
Just a touch.
Just a brush.
But it's enough.
Elior screams.
His magic detonates.
Light erupts from him — blinding, sharp, ancient — tearing through the grove like a star being born.
The world goes white.