The room felt wrong.
Not just locked—offended.
I felt it the moment my fingers brushed the outermost ward, a faint vibration traveling up my bones like the echo of a snapped string. The prison didn't just guard this threshold. It resented it. Like everything past this point was something it had been ordered to keep—and it had taken that personally.
Behind the door, someone groaned.
Not loudly.
Not enough to trigger alarms.
Just enough to let you know they were still alive—and that staying that way was costing them something.
Willow pressed her fist to her mouth, shoulders trembling. "That must be him," she whispered, the words breaking apart around the edges. "Revik."
My voice was barely a whisper. "Yeah."
I swallowed hard.
The pull in my chest flared—sharp, directional—but this time it wasn't Raiden. It wasn't the prison either.
It was urgency.
"This is the finish line," I murmured, mostly to myself. "Which means it's going to throw a tantrum."
The wards flared faintly in response.
Raiden shifted beside me, lightning humming low under his skin, his posture rigid with restraint. I didn't look at him—not yet. If I did, I'd either get distracted… or brave in a way that would get us all killed.
I crouched in front of the door instead.
"No magic," I reminded myself quietly. "No shifting. Just hands. Just timing. You have pissed it off enough already."
I pressed my palm flat to the stone.
The door wasn't sealed by one ward—just as Willow had said.
It was sealed by layers. Each one designed to punish a different kind of escape attempt. Force. Magic. Memory. Panic. Hope.
Cute.
"Four layers," Willow whispered hoarsely. "Minimum."
"Then we do it out of order," I said.
Raiden's head tilted slightly. "Explain."
"I can't," I replied. "I just need you to trust me."
I didn't know how to explain it even if I tried. Everything I'd done up until this point hadn't come from logic or planning—it had come naturally. Like muscle memory. Like I'd already been here before.
Maybe in a dream.
Silence stretched between us.
Then—quietly—"I do."
That shouldn't have hit as hard as it did.
I forced myself to refocus.
The outermost ward pulsed like a heartbeat. Not reactive—anticipatory. It wanted me to try something obvious.
So I didn't.
Instead, I scraped my fingernail along the seam where stone met metal.
The vibration changed.
The ward stuttered.
I smiled. "Found you."
The prison reacted instantly.
The corridor behind us shifted—walls sliding inward, ceiling lowering just enough to feel threatening. The hum deepened, irritated.
"Easy," I muttered at it. "We're playing fair."
I twisted my wrist sharply and struck the seam—not hard, but wrong. At an angle that didn't make sense.
The outer ward flickered.
Raiden inhaled sharply.
"That shouldn't have—"
"Thieves don't open doors," I said, already moving to the next layer. "We convince them to open themselves."
The second ward resisted differently—thicker, slower, meant to trap attention. I could feel it trying to pull my thoughts inward, to make me forget why I was here.
Revik's sob cut through it.
I snarled under my breath and slammed my palm flat against the stone.
"No."
The ward recoiled.
The prison shuddered.
Stone screamed—not audibly, but emotionally—like something old being forced to bend.
Raiden swore.
Willow gasped.
The third ward snapped.
The door cracked.
And then—
Everything went wrong.
The floor dropped out from under me.
Not a collapse.
A choice.
The prison tried to separate us again.
Raiden grabbed me without thinking.
Lightning cracked—loud, furious, uncontrolled—as his wings tore free a second time, slamming against the collapsing stone. The ward field screamed as corrupted power ripped through it, sparks of red-black energy carving jagged scars into the walls.
I dangled over a pit that shouldn't exist.
Stone teeth snapped upward.
Raiden's grip tightened.
I looked up at him—and for one terrible, beautiful second, the red eyes didn't matter.
"You've always had terrible timing," I said breathlessly.
He hauled me back onto solid ground with a growl, wings flaring wide as the pit sealed shut beneath us.
The prison roared.
Walls surged inward. Traps armed all at once. The hum became a scream.
"That was the last ward!" I shouted. "The door's open!"
Raiden turned, lightning arcing wildly along his arms as the door finally gave—stone splitting, metal screaming as it tore open.
Inside—
Revik collapsed forward.
Chains fell away.
He hit the floor on his knees, shaking, eyes wild, breath coming in sobbing gasps.
"Ly—" he choked. "Lyra?"
"I've got you," I said, already running to him. I dropped beside him and grabbed his face, forcing him to look at me. "Hey. You're out. You hear me? You're out."
His hands fisted in my sleeves like he was afraid I'd vanish.
"I knew you'd find me," he whispered, broken and fierce.
"Of course I did," I said, throat tight. "I'm terrible at leaving people behind."
The prison didn't like that.
Stone exploded inward from the walls—not collapsing, but charging. Guards poured into the corridor, real this time. Weapons raised. Wards flaring.
Willow screamed and threw both hands forward.
The earth answered.
Not gently.
Stone surged up like a tidal wave, slamming guards into walls, pinning them without crushing—just enough to stop them. Her restraint snapped, replaced by fury and choice.
"I choose them!" she cried. "I choose the Primal Dragon!"
Raiden stepped in front of us, lightning burning bright as he unleashed it fully—no hesitation, no control—just raw power ripping through the traps, frying ward lines and blasting open a path through the collapsing corridor.
"MOVE!" he shouted.
I hauled Revik to his feet.
He staggered—but didn't fall.
We ran.
The prison threw everything it had left.
Blades. Falling ceilings. Illusions that screamed our names.
We didn't slow.
We burst through the final exit in a storm of stone and light, the night air slamming into us like freedom itself.
We didn't stop running until the capital was a burning smear of light behind us.
Only then—
Only when my lungs screamed and my legs shook—
did I turn.
Raiden was right there.
Too close.
His eyes glowing.
Sweat beading down his face, that stupid smirk I had grown to love still clinging to his mouth. Lightning crawled under his skin—wild and wrong and somehow beautiful.
Before I could think—
I grabbed him.
Pulled him down—
And kissed him.
Not gentle.
Not careful.
Anger and relief and want crashed together as our mouths collided, like we were trying to steal breath from each other. He didn't push away—he embraced it. His hands came up, gripping my waist like if he let go I'd disappear.
For one heartbeat—
There was no prison.
No war.
No gods.
No Mortimer.
Just us.
Then I pulled back, forehead resting against his, breath shaking.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I will save you. I promise."
His eyes searched mine—conflicted, burning, alive.
Willow moved.
Stone surged up behind him, wrapping around his body in a crushing embrace—pinning him to the rock with brutal precision, leaving only his head exposed.
"YOU WON'T GET FAR, LYRA!" he shouted. "YOU WILL BELONG TO MORTIMER!"
I stepped back.
Heart breaking.
"Run," Willow said hoarsely. "Now."
I didn't hesitate.
I shifted.
White, iridescent scales burst from my skin as my dragon form unfurled into the night. Revik climbed onto my back without question, gripping tight.
Willow leapt—and shifted midair.
We launched skyward.
Wind roared past us as the Earth Kingdom fell away beneath.
Toward the Water Nation.
Toward sanctuary.
I didn't look back.
Because if I did—
I wouldn't have left.