The thorn crown

We ran.

We didn't speak.

Didn't need to.

The mosswood blurred past us, black and green and wet with fog. Something moved behind us—

fast. Too fast.

Kael kept me ahead of him, his hand at my back, fire low in his palm, burning quiet and angry.

"They're tracking you," he said, voice clipped. "Not me."

I swallowed hard. "Why?"

"Because they're scared."

A flicker to the left.

Kael threw a flame without looking.

A body screamed briefly before hitting the ground, smoking.

Another shadow dove from the right.

This one didn't miss.

It hit Kael full-force, sending him crashing into the underbrush.

"Kael!" I skidded to a stop.

Another figure appeared. Then another.

Not soldiers.

Not Sentinels.

Worse.

Seekers.

Rag-wrapped faces. No eyes. Just slits that oozed silver mist.

One reached for me.

I didn't think.

I felt.

And my pulse answered.

Emotion cracked through my chest like thunder.

The Seeker froze then shrieked, stumbling back, clutching its own head like I'd set fire to its mind.

Kael surged out of the trees, blood running down his jaw, eyes wild.

He saw me glowing again. Not gold this time.

White-hot.

His lips parted. "Ariya"

"I'm not doing it on purpose," I breathed.

Another Seeker lunged.

Kael turned it to ash.

"Then don't stop."

We ran again.

And behind us, the forest howled.