Page 65 of Chasing the Flame
They say you can’t run from fire… but what if it’s the only thing keeping you alive?
Because right now, it’s not just inside me.
Itisme.
The magic tears through my chest like a second heartbeat, pulsing faster, harder, until I can’t hold it back anymore. My skin fractures, light searing through the cracks, until it shatters.
I fall to my knees—and rise a beast.
My body elongates, reshapes, shifts. Fur like obsidian sable spills over my limbs, etched with glowing cracks that pulse like veins of lava.My tail lashes once—coated in flame and trailing shadow. Fire erupts along my spine, crowning my head in a mane of living flame.
Two great onyx horns curl from my skull, jagged and black as death. And my eyes—
My eyes glow golden.
Everything stops.
Even Luke stumbles back.
“No,” he breathes. “You’re not supposed to shift…”
But I already have.
I lunge, faster than lightning, crashing into him with a roar that shakes the stone. He claws at me with shadows, but they melt against my burning hide. I slash with obsidian claws, tear through the last of his defenses, and drag him across the altar ruins like a ragdoll.
He reaches for a blade, but I pin him to the ground, my giant paw crushing his throat.
“You wanted a meek and willing vessel,” I growl, my voice thunderous and half-feral. “But you summoned a fucking goddess.”
I open my jaws, and fire pours out. Not a blast. A reckoning.
The flames consume him, curl around his screaming form, and devour Luke. He’s nothing but a steaming hunk of flesh, scarred beyond recognition.
A carcass where a monster once stood.
It’sover.
The beast in me recedes like a tide—but it takes my strength with it. I shift back mid-step, knees buckling, the world tilting sideways—and I fall.
Jettson catches me before I hit the ground. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice shaking. “I’ve got you.”
He lifts me into his arms, my skin still warm to the touch, my head lolling against his chest. Dahlia and Elliot are already pushing forward, the cavern walls groaning with each second we stay.
“MOVE!!” Elliot barks, casting a final ward over an obsidian door as it begins to collapse behind us.
We run.
Jettson carries me through the winding tunnels, up the slope, through thorns, fog, and blood-slick roots. My consciousness dips in and out—snatches of light, fire, the feel of his heartbeat under my cheek.
And then—we break through the trees.
Jettson keeps running, Dahlia trailing behind. Elliot stays back, warding the cave entrance. Blackness flits at the corners of my eyes, never fully taking me under. I fight it, determined to see this through.
I latch my gaze onto the night sky, the treetops whizzing past overhead as Jettson picks up speed. I feel it the minute his body starts to relax. Then—I see it.
The house looms ahead. Old. Empty. Waiting.
Jettson lays me down gently on the grass just outside the overgrown thicket, his breath ragged. I rise slowly—my body trembling, smoke curling from my fingertips. I stare at the house. This place is the beginning and the end.
