The explosion had cracked the earth.
Beneath the collapsing ruins of Silas's fortress, the catacombs groaned, stone shifting, ceilings weeping dust.
Leia dragged Cassian through a broken archway, her breath sharp with panic. He was slipping—faster than before.
“Stay with me," she hissed, pressing a hand to his side.
He tried to speak, but blood bubbled from his lips.
She looked down.
The arrow wound—Silas's final shot—had been laced with poison.
“No, no, no—"
She tore open her satchel, searching for herbs, ash, anything Iris had given her. But nothing would counter this. Not in time.
Cassian's hand trembled toward her wrist. “Go."
“Shut up."
“You... have to live—"
“I said shut up!" Her voice cracked.
The curse inside her surged. Her vision blurred—edges turning silver, black,
