THIRTY-TWO: THE COST OF POWER
By nightfall, Bright could barely stand. The curse didn’t behave like an injury. It behaved like something patient. Something that understood timing. It spread in pulses—quiet at first, then sudden waves that stole strength from his limbs and left him catching his breath like the air itself had become heavier inside his lungs. Not killing him quickly. Not mercifully. Just dismantling him in increments. Ember refused to leave his side. The cave they’d taken refuge in was narrow, carved into stone that held the day’s cold like memory. Outside, the mountain wind scraped against the entrance like something searching for a way in. Inside, the only light came from Ember—faint, controlled flames hovering low near the ground, careful not to worsen whatever was already inside him. “You s
- Writer
