By the time they reached the inn on the city’s edge, they were too broken to care about appearances. Sweat and road-dust clung to their skin, streaking faces already hardened by fatigue. The sun hung low, its light weak and sickly, casting long shadows across the rough cobblestones.

  Each step felt heavier than the last, bones and muscles whining in protest. The air smelled of dust and smoke, faint remnants of the brawl drifting in from the city behind them.

  Kaiya hopped down off of Xander’s back. Landing with a soft grunt. Her body was still smaller from Dante’s magic. She shifted her weight, testing her balance.

  “So when does this magic end? I feel like a child again.” She glared up at Dante, frustration and indignation mingling in her tone. Her fists twitched at her sides, tiny and restless.

  “Uh.. it should have stopped already. Xander grew back way faster.” Dante shuffled uncomfortably, his eyes flicking to the ground. In truth, he had no idea what was happening.

  “Kind of adorable though.” He chuckled lightly. The sound was hollow, trying to cut through the tension of the day. It earned him a swift kick to his shin from Kaiya’s tiny boot. Pain blossomed sharply across his leg.

  “Don't salt the wound.” She snarled from half his size, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and weariness.

  As they walked in, Koi's keys in hand, the innkeeper looked at Xander, who stood at the door, massive and silent, with only mild confusion in his wide, dark eyes.

  “There's a stable outside, just don't let him scare the horses.” The innkeeper requested. He had seen enough of the war-torn and weary to know when silence was safer than questions. His gaze lingered briefly on Angel, noting the tension in her posture, the faint tremor in her hands.

  They split off toward their rooms.

  Dante and Valerik took one room, leaving the girls to the other.

  Angel and Kaiya climbed the narrow stairs together, each too drained for words. Kaiya struggled with each step, legs too short, the tread too high, every motion making her groan softly. Angel kept a hand near her side, steadying herself against the wall, feeling her own exhaustion pulse through her.

  The room was plain. Two beds, a cracked basin, shutters half-hinged. The wood of the floorboards groaned beneath their weight. The air was stale but quiet, carrying only the faint scent of wood polish and smoke from the nearby streets. The girls dropped onto their mattresses almost in unison.

  Kaiya curled tight beneath her blanket, pulling it up over her shoulders, her chest rising and falling rapidly as sleep claimed her in moments. Angel lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, letting her mind drift until exhaustion dragged her under.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Her dreams offered no rest.

  The world bled red around her. Fire stretched across streets that were both familiar and alien. Flames did not simply burn; they twisted and coiled like serpents, bending toward her as though alive and aware of her presence. Heat blistered the air, yet where it touched her mocha skin, it left no mark, only a pulsing warmth that throbbed in rhythm with her heartbeat, as if the fire had taken her blood into itself.

  A voice seeped out of the inferno, slow and heavy, like stone cracking beneath the earth. It chuckled, thick with pride and menace.

  “You have done well, my child.”

  Angel spun in place, fists clenched, grief sharpening into fury. Her chest ached, lungs burning with unspent emotion. “Who the fuck are you?”

  The fire twisted into shapes, shapes that whispered memories of death. Caleb’s last breath replayed again and again, his body folding into the flames, his face dissolving into ash. The scream lingered too long, stretching into a grotesque song.

  “No!” Angel staggered back, her voice cracking under the weight of it. “Stop it! Stop showing me this!”

  “The blood of the innocent,” the voice rumbled. Each word vibrated through her chest, resonating in her bones. It drew a long inhale, savoring the terror like a predator. “Such a treat.”

  Her knees buckled. Tears carved hot paths down her cheeks, each one leaving a trail of fury and guilt. “I didn’t mean to! I didn’t know!”

  “Enjoy your spoils. More blood will come, my child.”

  The laughter faded, but the fire only swelled. It rose higher than the rooftops, a wall of molten light rushing at her, pressing her back into herself. When it touched her, her skin blistered, peeled, then reformed again, unbroken. She screamed as the heat seared through her lungs, clawing at her chest. Every breath was agony, yet there was no mark, only a lingering echo of pain and power.

  Angel jerked awake with a cry.

  Her bed was on fire.

  Flames curled across her sheets, hungry and unnatural. The air was thick with choking smoke that scratched at her throat and burned her eyes. Sparks rained against her arm, fizzing out without leaving burns. The heat pressed close, almost sentient, watching her reaction.

  Kaiya bolted upright from the other bed, coughing. “Angel!” She threw her blanket down onto the blaze, but the fire spread faster, devouring fabric in seconds, sizzling and snapping like a living thing.

  Angel acted without thinking. She tore the burning sheets from her bed, the fire crawling over her hands without pain. She bundled the cloth tight and hurled it to the floor, stomping it down hard. Her bare foot smothered the fire, leaving nothing but blackened scraps and the acrid scent of scorched wood.

  The silence that followed pressed heavy against her chest.

  Smoke drifted in lazy coils. Angel’s breath rasped in her throat. Her trousers were charred away from the knee down, edges crisped and curling, but her mocha skin shone smooth and untouched.

  Kaiya stared at her, wide-eyed. “What the hell was that? You’re not even burned. Are you okay?”

  “I… I don’t know.” Angel’s voice shook. She looked at Kaiya, attempting to find reassurance. “Oh look, you grew back to normal.”

  Instead of relief, Kaiya’s eyes fixed higher, past the smoke, past Angel’s panic. Her mouth opened, but no words came.

  “You… you also grew… something new.” Kaiya stuttered, her voice a mixture of awe and fear.

  “What?” Angel snapped, fear prickling along her spine, setting every nerve on edge.

  Angel’s hand shot to her forehead. At first it was only skin. Then her fingers brushed against something wrong. Hard. Jagged. A nub of bone, raw and hot, pushing just above her temple. It throbbed beneath her touch, pulsating in rhythm with her panic.

  Her stomach turned. “Is this a fucking horn?” She looked wildly at the door, the shutters, the shadows, anywhere someone might be watching. Her voice dropped to a frantic whisper. “Did I grow a horn?”

  Kaiya swallowed, trying for calm and failing. “I mean… just a little one. A baby horn.”

  “A baby horn is still a horn, Kaiya!” Angel’s panic cracked through her voice. She pressed her palm harder against the growth, as if she could shove it back beneath her skin. Her breath came fast, uneven, hot and ragged. Tears burned behind her eyes but refused to fall, choking her words.

  The room still stank of smoke. Ash drifted across the floorboards in thin, ghostly trails. Kaiya reached out, hesitated, then let her hand fall. Angel stood trembling, one hand pressed to her temple, her body untouched by fire yet marked by something far worse. The air seemed to thicken, heavy with the weight of change, of growth that could not be undone.