The silence that followed London's collapse was unnatural. Time seemed to halt. Hope screamed his name, her voice raw with disbelief as she rushed to his side. Blood soaked his shirt, and his skin had already begun to cool. Daemon stood frozen, fists clenched. Raphael dropped to his knees beside them, his heart pounding with fury and helplessness. The stillness of the clearing echoed the devastating truth: London was dead.
"No... no, no," Hope cried, cradling London's body. Her magic pulsed uncontrollably, crackling around her like a storm threatening to break. "He can't be gone. He can't."
Jessa stood in shock, unable to move. Stephen's usual humor was gone; his brows furrowed deeply. "He took that hit for you, Hope," he murmured. "That was meant for you."
They had been ambushed, but the enemy was now gone—disintegrated by Raphael's fury and Hope's explosive spell. Only ashes remained, but the damage was done.
Then—something began to shift.
London's body, lying lifeless on the ground, started to shimmer faintly. Hope blinked through her tears, unsure if it was her powers playing tricks on her. But then the shimmer grew brighter—golden and red hues dancing across his skin. A spark. A flicker.
Stephen stumbled back. "What the hell is—"
Flames erupted. In an instant, London's body was engulfed in fire—brilliant, clean, and eerily quiet. Hope jumped back, eyes wide as the others shielded their faces from the sudden heat. But there was no smell of burning flesh. No destruction. Just pure, glowing fire… and then silence.
The flames died down.
From the center of the fire, a figure began to stir. Smoke curled upward as the boy who had just died slowly sat up.
Naked, dazed, and very much alive.
"Did I… miss something?" London muttered, blinking into the stunned silence.
Hope's mouth fell open. Raphael stood up so quickly he nearly fell over. Daemon took a sharp breath. Stephen, after a long pause, grinned and threw his hands up.
"Well, damn," he said. "I always knew you were hot, but I didn't think you'd literally rise from the ashes."
London stared at them, bewildered. "What… happened?"
"You died," Hope whispered, stepping closer. "You died, and then… you came back. In fire."
London looked at his hands. They glowed faintly before dimming. "What… what am I?"
"You're a phoenix," Daemon said grimly. "An immortal born of flame. It's ancient. Extremely rare. And very dangerous."
Jessa slowly approached, offering London a cloak. "That's why you never had powers before. They were dormant… waiting."
Hope dropped to her knees, covering her face with her hands. Relief, shock, and awe overwhelmed her. "You came back… You really came back."
London gently touched her hand. "I heard your voice," he said softly. "It pulled me back."
Their eyes met—intense, unspoken emotion crackling between them.
Stephen looked away dramatically. "Well, this is all very touching, but could we at least get him some pants before the next emotional breakdown?"
Everyone laughed—a shaky, surprised laugh—but it was real.
And so was London.
Hope looked up at him, her heart pounding.
Something had changed.
Forever.