The world of pain thinned, peeling away like smoke tugged by a breeze I could not feel. Warmth seeped in to fill the cracks, soft and golden, like stepping into sunlight after a night that did not want to end. A memory gathered itself from the haze.

  Kira.

  Not this battlefield. Not claws, blood, and the wet rasp of a throat trying to remember how to breathe. A diner. A lifetime ago. Fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like tired hornets. One rebellious curl had slipped free from her bun, brushing her cheek and catching the harsh light in a way that somehow made it softer. She smiled. The real kind. A rare expression that lit her eyes and sent flecks of gold and hazel sparking inside green irises that had no right to hold that much hope. A warmth the job tried to crush out of everyone. It never managed to wipe it from her.

  Not yet. Please, not yet.

  I could almost hear her laugh. Smell stale coffee and overworked grease. Feel the cracked vinyl under my palms. For a single desperate heartbeat, I wanted to stay buried in that memory and never come up for air.

  She cannot see me like this again. Bleeding into dirt, breath rattling, fear chewing through my ribs like acid. I would give anything to see her smile again, but not like this. Never like this.

  A shout punched through the dream, ragged and far away. My failing brain clawed at it, trying to sculpt the voice into hers. Kira?

  CLANG

  Metal slammed into metal, sharp and violent enough to slice the memory clean in half. The warmth froze. The diner vanished. Dirt and blood rushed back in a wave that burned my lungs. Shapes blurred. The sky shrank behind the looming silhouette of something massive and hungry.

  Another figure dropped between me and death, the earth trembling beneath armored boots. Gideon hit the ground like a falling bunker, shield raised, posture carved from steel and pure refusal.

  THUMP

  The lizard crashed into him. The impact rippled through the dirt and into my bones, a deep shock that rattled teeth and spine. A snarl tore the air. Another voice answered with a roar and a flash of metal. Someone darted past Gideon, blade carving into scaled flesh with an almost furious grace. The beast reeled, focus broken, shriek scraping across the battlefield as it spun toward its new attacker.

  My head tipped to the side. Darkness crawled back, thick as oil. Footsteps hammered the stone, a frantic staccato that stopped hard beside me.

  Warmth detonated in my chest. Silver heat poured through my veins, chased by a cool current that smothered the wildfire burning through my ribs. My lungs seized, then convulsed in a brutal gasp that ripped my throat raw. Air tore in, sweet and sharp, so real it hurt. My body shuddered as life slammed back into it with punishing force.

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  Vision cleared like someone wiped glass clean.

  Green eyes. So close I could drown in them. The flecks did not shimmer now. They blazed, fierce and bright, like a storm burning behind emerald glass.

  Still dying. Still hallucinating. She cannot be here.

  I reached anyway. Fingers trembling. They brushed warm skin. Solid. Alive.

  Kira leaned in, jaw set, voice tight with strain.

  "Stop that. You are distracting me from saving your ass. Again."

  She was not looking at me. Her gaze bored straight through, fixed on the magic pouring from her staff. The crystal pulsed, heartbeat bright, green light flooding the ruins before fading to a soft afterglow. Sweat gathered along her brow. Her breathing came in sharp, uneven pulls.

  Pain dissolved. Fire gone. Strength uncoiled where weakness had lived.

  "What was that?" My voice sounded like gravel dragged across rusted steel.

  Her eyes snapped open. The dam behind them cracked and every raw emotion she tried to bury shoved forward in one fierce glare.

  I saw the fist coming. Did not bother moving. I earned it.

  The punch hit my stomach with a dull thud. Barely felt it. She felt it.

  Kira hissed, cradling her hand.

  "What the hell. Did you actually turn into metal?"

  A strange laugh clawed up my chest and forced itself out. Not controlled. Not sane. Relief spilling over into something wild and messy.

  "Forty in Strength does wonders."

  She hit me again. Lighter. Still regretted it. Pain flickered across her face.

  "Are you going to tell me why you are trying to break your hand," I said, pushing up on my elbows, "or is this your new greeting technique?"

  "I have not decided yet." Her voice wavered, steel stretched thin over fear she did not want me to see. "Are you ever going to stop diving headfirst into death traps?"

  "Not my fault they find me appetizing." I jerked my chin toward the fight. Logan barreled forward again, axe raised. "Besides, we are needed." I blinked. Three seconds late. "Wait. You can heal? Since when are you magic?"

  She was already moving, hair whipping behind her as she sprinted.

  "This conversation is not finished." She vaulted debris like it offended her. "Go kill that thing. And if you die before I yell at you properly, I will be furious."

  "Yes ma'am!" A grin split across my face, unstoppable and a little delirious.

  It faded the moment I saw Trent’s shield in the dirt, nearly cleaved in half. The last thing he ever held. I touched it with two fingers, a quiet, breathless moment, grief cutting cold and clean, then let it sit there in my chest as I rose.

  My sword waited, gleaming, perfectly balanced. The floating label hung over it like some polite, indifferent UI prompt in a reality that had lost its mind.

  The battlefield snapped into tactical clarity. Logan engaging the Elite head on. Ryker’s squad pinning two lesser lizards, faltering. Gideon bracing to intercept another charge.

  Move.

  I launched forward. Dirt exploded beneath my boots. Steel whispered through air. A lesser lizard jerked toward me, but gunfire shredded its throat before it could strike. I did not pause. My blade swung low, severing its rear tendons. It fell, screeching.

  The second beast pivoted, fixing me with feral yellow eyes. A low growl rolled through its body, heavy enough to vibrate the air. Bullets pinged off its skull like rain off concrete. This one was mine.

  Sound faded. Space narrowed. Breath and instinct, nothing else.

  It lunged. I moved earlier. Lower. Faster. My blade carved up through scale and flesh, slicing tendon and bone, then punched through its jaw and burst from its eye in a spray of green ichor. The creature gagged on its own death.

  I yanked free and rolled clear as gunfire tore the rest apart.

  Focus snapped to the real enemy. The Elite towered over Logan and Charlie, every wound sealing almost as fast as they made it. Exhaustion etched into their stances. Fear pulled at their eyes. Determination held them upright anyway.

  We would break before it did.

  Not happening. Not today.

  I planted my feet. Tightened my grip. The world steadied around the edge of my blade.

  Round two.