**Zelene**
The world blurred at the edges.
Damian’s blood was warm against my palms, sticky and dark, seeping through the fabric of my shirt where I pressed down on his wounds. My blue flames flickered weakly, their light fading like dying embers. I didn’t know if they could heal—didn’t even know how I’d summoned them in the first place—but I *pushed*, willing whatever power I had left into him.
*Please. Please don’t leave us.*
Mikey hovered beside me, his small hands trembling as he clutched Damian’s sleeve. “Is he gonna die?” His voice was thin, frayed at the edges.
I swallowed hard. “No.” The word came out sharp, desperate. A promise I wasn’t sure I could keep.
Across the ruined mill, Weiss barked orders at the pack. Witches lay unconscious or restrained, their magic b
