Elira's hand closed around the coin.
It wasn't warm.
It wasn't cold.
It just was.
The way a heartbeat is.
The way truth sits in your chest before you know it's there.
"I want her back," Elira said.
The words felt like glass in her mouth.
"But I can't."
The coin paused in her palm.
The air around it pulsed.
"Why?" it asked.
Not cruel.
Not kind.
Just waiting.
Elira closed her eyes.
Saw Kara's face again.
Not just in the cage.
But in their small room back home.
In the way she brushed Elira's hair.
Sang when thunder scared them.
The sister who gave everything to make Elira smile.
"She'd be mad," Elira whispered.
"If I picked her over everyone else."
A slow wind moved through the chamber.
Soft.
Sad.
But proud.
Elira opened her hand.
The coin floated back into the box.
The lid closed.
And vanished.
The room trembled.
For a moment, everything went black.
Then—
A crack of light tore through the wall.
Not sunlight.
Not flame.
But hope.
The door burst open.
Not just into another room—
But into a sky.
A sky filled with torn clouds and wild stars and towers made of shimmered air.
A voice echoed:
"Final path: chosen."
They stepped through.
The world beyond was different.
It felt Elira-shaped.
Not because she owned it.
But because it had changed for her.
The land knew who she was.
Not a thread.
Not a gap.
Not a girl forgotten.
But a root.
But not all was right.
Across the sky loomed a shadow.
Big.
Cold.
It had no face.
No claws.
No scream.
But it stole light just by being there.
The Fire That Waits.
No longer waiting.
Elira staggered.
The pain wasn't hers.
It came from everywhere.
From broken villages.
Burnt trees.
Empty stories.
The fire fed on silence.
And it was hungry.
They ran.
Down star-paths and through echo-woods.
Every step lit by Elira's golden footprints.
The fire chased.
Not fast.
Not slow.
Just certain.
They reached a cliff.
Far below: a glowing pool.
Above: wind spinning into storm.
"We can't run forever," Sera said, blade drawn.
"We don't need forever," Elira said.
"Just a little more faith."
She turned.
Faced the fire.
It didn't roar.
Didn't howl.
It just loomed.
A shape made of all the moments people gave up.
Elira stepped forward.
The others followed.
Not because she told them.
But because they believed in her.
She held out her hand.
"Fire," she said, voice shaking, "I know what you are."
"You are doubt."
"You are all the parts of us that gave up."
She took another step.
"But I don't give up."
"I don't burn because I'm weak."
"I burn because I'm rooted."
Behind her, a circle of gold spun around her friends.
Each one glowing.
Each one holding her up.
The fire surged.
But this time—
It didn't reach.
Because it couldn't burn what everyone protected.
A pulse rang out.
A note without sound.
A name without letters.
And the fire...
Shuddered.
Then split.
Then vanished—
Like smoke that never was.
Elira fell to h
er knees.
Not from pain.
But from release.
She had made the hard choice.
And the world had listened.