Page 283 of Emylia

A storm.

A reckoning.

Flames erupted across my skin, dancing up my arms like they knew exactly what I wanted—who deserved to burn.

I didn’t hesitate.

I hurled the fire.

Three warriors vanished in a single flash—screams ripped from their throats, then cut short as flesh liquefied, bone turned to ash, and cinders scattered in the air.

The air reeked of scorched blood and vengeance.

This wasn’t fire.

It was retribution.

It licked across my fingers, coiled around my limbs, devouring blood and steel alike.

It didn’t ask.

It answered.

I hurled another wave of destruction. Three warriors disintegrated in a breath—flesh peeled from bone. Embers churned in the air like scarlet-black snow, blown apart by the force of my scream.

Maalikai had already finished his last two. But there were more.

Gods, there were so many more.

The archers had drawn again.

Drawn. Aimed. Loosed.

A succession of them.

Aimed at me.

At Maalikai.

No I refused to lose him.

I didn’t summon fire this time.

I became it.

There was no spell. No chant. Just a single, perfect thought.

I didn’t dodge.

I didn’t blink.

I looked at them.

And they ignited.

Burned.

Fire was not summoned.

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