Isadora:
Fire.
Everywhere.
One moment I’m standing in the academy, the next the night is swallowed whole by flames. They surge up the stone walls in great orange waves, licking at the gargoyles until their snarling faces blister and split. The air tastes of copper and smoke.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t move.
Ash rains down in a slow, deliberate snowfall. Each fleck is a dying ember, whispering against my skin like a warning. I press my palm to the nearest column—scalding. The burn bites deep, but I can’t let go. If I let go, I’ll float away into the inferno.
Somewhere beyond the crackle of fire, something moves.
A shape, broad-shouldered and black as midnight, prowls along the ruined arches. No face. Only eyes—two molten coins gleaming through the smoke. They watch me with a hunger th
