Holly

  The last shimmer of gold vanished into the clouds.

  For a moment, the world simply stopped. The air stilled. The fires around the village flickered once, then steadied into an uneasy glow. Holly’s hand was still raised where Ariel had been, her fingertips trembling in the space that should have been filled by warmth.

  Then came the silence.

  A deafening kind that came after the sound of something torn apart. It pressed in on her ears until she thought she’d pass out. No wind. No footsteps. No breath.

  And then the world came rushing back all at once.

  A lantern fell somewhere to her left, shattering into sparks. Someone screamed. A rush of voices rose and collided, confusion rippling through the Sylari as they stumbled from their homes and across the burnt grass. The air trembled with a dozen panicked tones: calls for the Elder, questions shouted into the dark, the crackle of fire where the ground still smoked.

  Holly didn’t move.

  Her chest felt hollow, like her lungs had been scooped out. The sky still glowed faintly where Ariel had vanished, a soft bruise of gold and black against the stars. Her mind kept expecting to see her wings cutting through the clouds, flame trailing like a comet tail, but the sky only stared back, empty.

  Through the blur of motion, Fornaskr appeared at her side. He looked shaken, his eyes locked on the empty sky where Ariel had vanished. The shock was written plainly across his face, but even through it, his focus stayed on Holly.

  “Easy,” he managed, his voice rough. “Breathe, Holly. You’re safe.”

  Holly opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her tongue felt thick, her throat dry and useless. The question echoed inside her head, and all she could think was gone.

  A hand brushed her shoulder and she flinched violently, turning toward it with wide, unseeing eyes. The touch withdrew immediately. Someone murmured an apology. The world was too close, too loud. Every flicker of light felt like it was burning into her skin.

  She stumbled backward, her foot catching on the edge of the scorched earth. The ground was still warm. Heat pulsed through the sole of her boot like a heartbeat.

  The Sylari voices blurred together, one overlapping another:

  “The savior... she’s gone!”

  “The sky split! Did you see it?”

  “Is it returning? The darkness?”

  The words circled her like crows. Holly turned her head, but they followed anyway. Her breathing quickened, uneven and sharp, the edges of panic curling up inside her ribs.

  Shika pressed against her leg, fur puffed and trembling. The small creature’s chirr barely reached Holly through the ringing in her ears. She tried to steady her hand enough to touch Shika’s head, but even that simple motion felt foreign, disconnected from her body.

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  Her pulse was too loud. The world was moving too fast.

  And then her knees gave out.

  Fornaskr caught her before she hit the ground. His hands were steady, but his face was pale, eyes unfocused, still caught between disbelief and the instinct to protect. Around them, the Sylari’s panic rose like a tide, their voices cracking, children crying, the clatter of armor as a few tried to restore some semblance of order.

  “Get the Elder!” someone shouted.

  “The statue’s still glowing!” another cried.

  The din swelled, pressing in on them from every side.

  Holly’s vision wavered. Her breath came in shallow gasps. The air was thick with the smell of scorched sap and smoke. She clutched at Fornaskr’s arm, her voice a whisper barely carried above the chaos.

  “She… she was right there…”

  Fornaskr nodded once, his jaw tight.

  “I know. I saw.” He glanced at the villagers, his voice lowering. “They’re frightened. They think the corruption’s returning.”

  The ground beneath them was still warm, remnants of Ariel’s fire pulsing faintly underfoot. Holly stared at the glowing cracks tracing through the soil, her mind unable to reconcile the beauty and terror of it.

  “It’s not,” she said softly, but she didn’t sound convinced.

  Fornaskr straightened, his voice rising over the noise as he tried to steady his people.

  “Enough! Breathe. Everyone, breathe.”

  His tone carried the weight of authority that came from being their Elder. Lanterns were raised, their golden light throwing long, trembling shadows across the ruined square as the Sylari gathered, uncertain and wide-eyed, looking toward him and Holly for answers he did not yet have.

  Holly had none to give, either. Her chest ached, and her heartbeat drummed in her throat. She wanted to scream. To demand the world give her back the woman it had taken twice now.

  Instead, she whispered Ariel’s name.

  The name slipped from her lips like a prayer and dissolved into the night.

  Fornaskr crouched beside her, his hand hovering near her shoulder, uncertain whether to offer comfort or let her break in peace. The Sylari had gone quiet now, the panic tapering to frightened whispers. Even the wind had stilled.

  Holly stared at the spot where Ariel had stood, her eyes wide and unfocused. The air there still shimmered faintly, a residue of gold clinging to the night like dying embers. She reached out toward it, her fingers brushing empty space. Nothing but the cold, heavy air.

  A sound escaped her that was the promise of a sob. Her body shook, tremors rising through her arms as if grief were something physical she couldn’t keep contained.

  Fornaskr spoke softly beside her, his words half to himself.

  “The world hasn’t seen flame like hers in an age… and now…” He trailed off, throat tightening.

  Holly pressed her palms into the scorched earth, feeling the warmth fading beneath her skin. She bowed her head until her forehead touched the ground, a broken plea leaving her in fragments.

  “Please… not again.”

  Shika crept closer, curling against Holly’s lap, tiny body quivering. The red panda’s fur was warm and soft: a small heartbeat in all the ruin. Holly’s hands found Shika instinctively, fingers sinking into her fur as tears began to fall unchecked. She didn’t know how long she stayed like that, only that the stars above had started to blur and smear together like wet paint.

  Fornaskr shifted closer and lowered his voice to a near whisper. “You need rest, Holly. Come away from the fire’s scar.”

  But Holly couldn’t move. She clutched Shika tighter, voice cracked and hollow.

  “If I move, she’ll be gone for real.”

  Fornaskr hesitated, then sank down beside her, his voice rough with something that almost sounded like guilt.

  “She isn’t gone. Not yet. The flame never dies easy.”

  The words didn’t reach her. Holly’s breath came uneven. The night pressed close, filled with smoke, salt, and silence. And when her strength finally gave out, she folded sideways into Fornaskr’s waiting arms, her last thought nothing but Ariel’s name, burning like a wound inside her chest.