Smoke curled through the alleys.
Sera choked back the rising panic in her throat as she pulled Lyra and Luca along, weaving through the chaos of the burning market. Screams echoed from every corner. Blue fire licked the rooftops, unnatural and cold, devouring everything it touched.
Behind them—Zane stayed behind. Facing that monster.
Her heart ached, but she forced herself forward.
"Keep moving!" she shouted to the small group of vendors and shoppers who had followed her. "We have to make it out of this district—NOW!"
Children were crying. A woman stumbled, carrying her injured husband over her shoulder. An elderly man collapsed from the heat, and Lyra rushed back to help lift him.
Sera turned to Luca. "Stay close to me, alright?"
He nodded weakly, still shaken, his face pale from both fear and lingering sickness.
Then Sera did what came naturally—she led.
Her voice rang through the panic. "This way! Take the side street by the herbalist's shop! It'll curve behind the district and lead to Noble Row."
A man asked desperately, "Where are we going?"
"My estate!" she said. "It's protected by warded walls. Hurry!"
As they ran, Lyra glanced back, wide-eyed. "He'll be okay, right? Zane?"
She couldn't—not yet.
But in her mind, she repeated the words like a prayer.
Finally, after what felt like forever, the tall silver gates of the Whitecrest estate came into view. House guards opened them at once, surprised at the crowd, but Sera stepped forward.
"These people are under our protection," she commanded. "Give them shelter. Food. Anything they need."
The guards hesitated for a heartbeat—then obeyed.
Sera exhaled in relief as Luca and Lyra were led inside. But she didn't follow.
She turned to the horizon, toward the rising tower of smoke, toward the place where Zane still fought.
"I'll come back for you," she whispered.