16 Chapter 16 – Sacrifice in Flames
She sprinted through smoke, dodging debris, skin blistering, mind fracturing from overuse of her gift.
The imperial sorcerers had activated dampening pylons-black spires driven into the ground that silenced resonance.
Cyr saw it. Felt it.
The child stilled.
She reached the boy-cupped his head-whispered directly into his soul.
Then rising.
Then fizzled.
And then-they surged forward with renewed strength.
Explosives hidden under the fortress foundations *detonated.*
She sang.
The clash was deafening-steel on claw, explosions cracking through the mountain air.
Never you.
Frostfall stood.
Elsewhere, the governor-watching from the high cliff-gave the signal.
“Stop!” Cyr roared, but she didn’t hear.
His braces hissed with each shift, holding his body upright as wolf soldiers took formation behind him.
Their minds cleared. The primal fog lifted.
Her pulse faded.
She found him.
Too many were collapsing mid-charge, their alpha cores unstable from fear and
inherited trauma.
The pylon exploded behind them.
Captain Varek shouted down the lines. “Shields high! Wait for the flare!”
Eileen stood in the central watchtower, fingers pressed to the crystal conduit
humming beneath her palm. The resonant frequency inside the fortress had begun to pulse-faint, chaotic.
Stone buried half the courtyard.
The first blast rocked the southern gate before sunrise.
Cyr froze mid-duel.
“Don’t leave,” he whispered.
“*Cyr!*”
Buried.
Cyr opened his eyes.
She dropped beside him and did the only thing left.
Snow began to fall.
Cyr narrowed his eyes. “Now,” he whispered.
Below, the imperial legions advanced-thousands strong, red banners flapping like open wounds.
He dragged a child-an alpha cub-shackled and sobbing, veins glowing red from the overload.
Cyr stood at the battlements, wind tearing through his cloak.
Not to calm.
The wolves were panicking.
Low at first.
Screams returned.
A final trap.
She reached the outer trench. Whispers bled from her throat as she cut through two enemy sentries with her dagger.
War exploded.
Not to command.
She tore down the watchtower steps, cloak flying, silver blood trickling from her mouth as she forced herself toward the siege line.
Eileen was already moving.
In the tower, Eileen whispered to the crystal again-and sang.
Cyr saw the moment Arel raised his blade to strike her from behind.
A blade grazed his side-he spun and countered, slamming his attacker into the ice.
The Citadel still stood.
In the enemy ranks, Count Arel stepped forward-bloody, grinning, *alive.*
Then everything *changed.*
The western spire collapsed.
And for the first time since the fire sixteen years ago…
–
She forced her voice out again-but the melody cracked, fell apart.
Cyr wept.
And only she could reach them.
But the girl who had once whispered salvation into its halls now lay silent.
Her voice, hoarse but sharp, threaded through the citadel.
Eileen gasped as the air turned thick, choking her throat.
He screamed and broke formation, running-braces straining, bones burning.
But in his arms-
“Not you.”
“This one’s agony feeds the field,” Arel shouted. “Her voice dies with him!”
The resonance field returned.
The pylon cracked.
harmonic command.
“Hold the ridge,” he commanded. “Don’t break until my signal.”
“You did it,” he whispered.
Silver light burst from her chest, enveloping them both, shielding the Citadel from the
full blast.
In the chaos, a second shockwave hit.
He reached her just in time, slamming his body into Arel’s, sword clashing steel on
steel.
Below, the wolves faltered.
Cyr and Arel fell.
“No,” she rasped.
Cyr fought from the vanguard, using the full strength of his brace-enhanced limbs. Each movement precise, brutal.
Blood sprayed. He didn’t stop.
Her voice ripped from her throat-raw, broken, *real.*
Eileen turned-just in time to see Cyr disappear beneath falling marble and flame.
Wolves dropped their weapons-then howled in perfect unison.
A silver flare shot into the sky.
But the wolves were faltering.
A forbidden resonance-one that traded life for protection.
Eileen went limp.
Barely breathing.
Fire. Smoke. Screams.
Then fell into peaceful sleep.
Her lips silvered.
And Cyr held her against his chest like a dying prayer.
The fire struck.
Ash scattered in the wind.
Frostfall shook to its foundations as imperial artillery fired wave after wave of molten
stone across the frozen plain.
Silver resonance swept through the stone, through every soldier’s core.
But to sacrifice.
Eileen collapsed to her knees, coughing blood.
