The wind whispered through dead grass.

  Brianna stirred beneath a blackened sky, her body half-buried in soot and cracked earth. Her wings hung in tatters, still smoking. The ground radiated heat, but there was no fire left—only the long, heavy quiet.

  With a groan, she pushed herself upright, her trembling hand clawing into the dirt. “Liam…?” Her voice was hoarse, cracked. “Ash…?” Softer now, barely air. “Michael… Samuel… Amy…?”

  Nothing answered her but silence.

  She turned her head. Barren hills stretched in every direction. No town. No towers. No familiar voices. Her throat tightened. “You did it,” she whispered to herself. “You saved them. You… you saved them…”

  But she knew it wasn’t true.

  “They’re gone.” The words broke in her mouth.

  Kneeling, she clutched her chest. The echoes of their warmth still flickered in her ribs—embers of their spirits, glowing faintly, refusing to die out. “You’re still with me,” she murmured. “I know. But it’s not enough. It’s not the same.”

  A single tear slid down her soot-streaked cheek.

  She caught her reflection in a pool of rainwater gathered in a crater. A stranger stared back: eyes burning with glow, skin scorched with divine fire. No longer just a girl. Not even just a Phoenix. Something more. Something alone.

  Her voice was a breath against the wind. “I survived… Why did I survive?”

  Slowly, she rose, the wind tugging at her torn clothes. “I’ll keep going,” she said, steady now. “I’ll remember you. Every one of you. I’ll… carry the fire.”

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  Her gaze fixed on the dark horizon. “Even if the world forgets, I won’t.”

  Later, she sat alone beside a dying campfire deep within the hollow of a forest untouched by the blast. Trees swayed overhead, and sparks drifted upward into the dark sky like souls ascending. In her palm lay a charred feather—Amy’s, maybe, or her own. It didn’t matter.

  She closed her eyes. The fire before her crackled louder, louder, until it became voices.

  A memory.

  They were all there again, huddled around a campfire not unlike this one, younger by years, alive and unburdened. Ashleigh grinned wickedly. “If I turn into a full fire horse, I’m charging through every wall in Mariville. First stop: the mayor’s house.”

  Samuel straightened, mock-serious. “Unacceptable. I call dibs on heroic property damage.”

  Liam elbowed him. “Says the guy who burned down the training shed.”

  Michael blushed. “That was me, actually…”

  Amy’s eyes went wide. “Wait, what?!”

  Brianna laughed with them, warm and free. “Remind me never to let you near my garden.”

  The present crept back in with the smoke.

  Brianna exhaled slowly, staring into the flames. “Samuel always said fire was meant to change things,” she murmured. “But none of us expected this.”

  Her fingers tightened around the feather. “Liam, you were our rock. You always stood tallest, even when you were scared. I still hear your voice when I don’t know what to do.”

  Her eyes misted. “Ashleigh… you made us laugh. Even when everything burned. You knew how to carry pain with pride. I wish I could still hear your voice cracking jokes.”

  She lifted her gaze skyward. “Michael… you never wanted to fight, but you never turned away. You reminded me to care. You always cared. That’s what made you brave.”

  Her voice grew quiet. “Samuel… you always believed in legacy. In honor. I hope I’m living up to yours.”

  Her throat caught. “Amy… you were just a girl. But you had more courage than any of us.”

  The fire dwindled, flickering low.

  “You’re with me,” Brianna whispered. “All of you. I carry your flame. Your light. Your voices.”

  The wind rustled the leaves. For a heartbeat, just one, it sounded like laughter.

  She smiled through the tremor in her lips. “I’m still walking. I’m still burning.”

  Leaning back, she watched the sparks rise into the stars.