“I didn’t rise. I burned my way out.”
The first thing I noticed was silence.
No rubble.
No fighting.
No screaming.
Just… stillness.
I opened my eyes and gasped. I wasn’t in the ruins anymore. I was standing barefoot in a forest bathed in silver light, the trees whispering in a language older than time. The air tasted like ash and lightning. My skin still buzzed from the magic that had exploded out of me.
My hands… they glowed. Pale fire licked across my fingers, dancing without burning.
“What… the hell am I?” I whispered.
I looked down.
Gone was the torn shirt, the blood, the grime. In their place was a gossamer shift, clinging to my skin like mist. It moved when I breathed, revealing more than it hid. Symbols burned across my arms and collarbone—runes I didn’t recognize but some
