Everything is on fire. The world is heat and smoke. Maxen’s face looms out of the shadow. Grinning. Snarling. Solma can’t move. When she looks down, great vines have slithered from the earth and tightened around her legs. She tries to scream but smoke claws her throat. She’s burning.
Maxen’s face softens for a moment, and she feels a glimmer of hope. Perhaps he isn’t the man his father wanted him to be. Perhaps he’ll let her go.
He reaches for her, fingertips brushing her throat. It’s a touch she knows. She remembers his tenderness, back when she’d thought he loved her. Maybe it wasn’t a lie. Maybe …
His fingers tighten and she knows it isn’t true. He’s killing her. He’s killing the world. And there’s nothing she can do—
Solma.
A voice she recognises. Harsh, demanding, loving. Solma
