The Ruin they Crave

I never imagined I’d be crawling through the dark, elegant gates of Ignis Academy—the place where the strongest Hellhounds of the Netherworld come to become something more. Sharp pain shoots through my body as I drag myself forward, fingers scraping against cold stone. This is the place my mother whispered about with her dying breath. The safest place. The only place left. Tears burn down my face, but I don’t bother wiping them away. My world is already gone—ripped apart in a bloody m******e. The screams of my pack still echo in my head, carved so deep into my soul I don’t think they’ll ever leave. I’ve known fire all my life. It’s part of me. But the flames of the Rogue who destroyed us? They were cold. The burn… and the numbness of ice. It’s wrong. They burned in a way that didn’t feel natural—like something meant to erase, not consume. A sharp tingle spreads beneath my skin. Ruin. It stirs, restless and dangerous, threatening to take hold if I don’t make it inside. I grit my teeth and force my body forward. I have to survive. I’m what’s left of my family—and I refuse to be the last thing that dies with them. With one final push, I roll past the threshold——and immediately tumble down a set of steps I didn’t see. Stone slams into my body again and again as I fall, each hit knocking what little air I have left from my lungs. By the time I hit the bottom, I’m barely able to breathe. A broken wheeze escapes me. My head lolls to the side, and through blurred vision, I catch sight of the doors. Darkwood. Massive. Marked with three heads—the symbol of Cerberus. I’m so close. The tingling Ruin sharpens into something vicious, like needles digging under my skin. I manage to roll onto my side, but even that feels like too much. Seven hells… I’m right there. My vision flickers, fading in and out as exhaustion drags me under. My eyelids grow heavy, sleep pulling at me in a way that feels too final. No. Not yet. I hear it—the doors opening. A tall figure steps into view, blurred and glowing at the edges. Gold hair…? It’s like staring into the sun. Pretty. My thoughts slip, unraveling into something soft and distant. A strange, weightless feeling takes over, and before I can stop myself, I start giggling. I lift my arms, flapping them weakly. Oh—I can fly. My hand smacks into something solid and warm. Definitely not air. “Ew.” My nose wrinkles as I squint up at him. “Ee’re Te’ka Fe’ya.” His voice is deep, husky—warm in a way that doesn’t match the situation. Ke’eli. I recognize it even through the fog. Hit me again, and I’ll drop you. I gasp, offended. “You’re so mean—” A cough cuts me off, harsh and painful, and the taste of blood floods my mouth. “…great.” He groans, and suddenly I’m lifted—bouncing slightly in his arms. I pout faintly. I was flying. My head falls back as he carries me, my gaze catching on the ceiling above us. Blue flames flicker along the stone, swaying like they’re alive. I wave at them. They wave back. And suppress a giggle, which I regret immediately when a sharp pain shoots through my ribs. When we pass through a set of double doors, bright light floods my vision. “Ah! No sun!” I shout, throwing an arm over my eyes. I’m placed onto something soft—a bed—and then everything becomes movement and noise. Blurry faces rush around me, voices overlapping, hands everywhere. Something sharp pricks my arm. I wince. And then panic crashes through the haze. “No!” I jerk, trying to pull away, my hand reaching for the IV. Before I can rip it out, a hand closes over mine—firm, unyielding. A low, almost-growl follows. “Let them.” His voice is sharper now. Controlled, but edged. My heart is racing so fast it hurts, and I can barely make out his face. “Please don’t…” My voice cracks, thin and weak in a way I hate. I hate feeling like this—small, vulnerable—especially here, of all places. But this was my mother’s last wish. And I have nowhere else to go. I have no one else. He’s quiet for a moment. Or maybe it just feels longer because everything inside me is unraveling. Something in me—something instinctive and reckless—wants him to stay. It’s ridiculous. I’m latching onto the first person who didn’t let me die on the steps. Then he speaks. “Nothing will harm you here,” he says, voice low but certain. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” That doesn’t help. It makes it worse. I glance down, just enough to see the syringe in his hand— —and then warmth floods my veins, heavy and dragging. My fingers tighten around his forearm. I don’t want to go under. “Please,” I whisper, panic slipping through. “Don’t—” Darkness takes me before I can finish.