The world was nothing but fire.
It writhed and spun around us, tearing at its bonds like some wild beast freed. The heat felt against my skin as if it was going to peel it away from my bones. Chamber walls groaned, stone blistering, as if even the earth recoiled from this tempest.
Wren’s shield was struggling—thin, trembling blue lines fissuring beneath the heat of the flames. He grabbed me, sweaty and strained and with a face that looked like he was in pain.
“Vivian—stop whatever the hell you’re doing!”
“I’m not—” The words ripped from me, raw, almost swallowed by the roar. “It’s not me anymore.”
Arabella was planted across the blaze, her hair flying about her face. Her smug triumph was replaced with pure terror. She was fighting, I could see that—scrabbling with all the will she had
