The world twisted, layers of reality peeling apart like rotten fabric. Lucian's knees hit the glassy ground hard. A fire he didn't recognize was trying to burn him from the inside out, crawling up his veins. It wasn't his power. It felt foreign, ancient, and demanding.
Somewhere in the roaring in his ears, he heard Marc's strained grunt and the earth-shaking impacts of Kaelis fighting the shadow-thing. But it all felt distant, drowned out by the inferno in his chest.
He couldn't think in words, only instincts. This power—his father's final, cruel gift—was a key trying to turn a lock deep inside him. He knew with a cold certainty that if it turned, he'd change. He'd become something else, something that might not be able to stay here, to fight. He'd be pulled away, and Marc would be left alone.
No.
The thought was a clawed thing, ripped from the core of him. He wouldn't abandon his brother. Not again. Not for power. Not for anything.
