Zara's POV
I'm going to die in this desert.
Good.
The sun beats down like a hammer. I've been walking for two days with no food and only the water I stole from a well before leaving the city. My lips are cracked. My legs shake with every step. But I keep moving.
Behind me, somewhere in the distance, I hear them. Horses. Guards. They're still hunting me.
"The fugitive went this direction!" a voice shouts.
I force my tired legs to move faster. Sand slides under my feet. The heat makes everything shimmer and blur. Am I even going the right way?
Three days ago, I escaped the prison during the chaos. The fire spirit—Ashram—appeared and destroyed everything. I grabbed Lyra and we ran. But the guards caught up to us at the city gates. They took Lyra again while I fought my way free.
They're using her as bait. Come back for your sister, and we'll kill you both.
I can't save her. I'm nobody. I have no power, no friends, no way to fight the Magistrate.
So I'm doing the only thing I can do. I'm going to die somewhere they can't reach me.
The Scorched Temple. Every kid in the kingdom grows up hearing stories about it. The place where Ashram the Destroyer was imprisoned three hundred years ago. Hundreds of treasure hunters have tried to reach it. None came back. The magical defenses turn people to ash before they get close.
Perfect.
"I see her!" A guard's voice, closer now. "She's heading for the Wastes!"
I stumble behind a sand dune and press my back against the hot stone. My heart pounds so loud I'm sure they'll hear it. Three guards on horses ride past, so close I could touch them.
When they're gone, I keep moving.
The desert gets worse the deeper I go. The sand turns black like it's been burned. Dead trees stick up from the ground like skeleton fingers. The air tastes like smoke even though nothing's burning.
On the second day, I run out of water.
My mouth feels like sand. My head spins. I fall twice and barely get back up. Maybe I won't even make it to the temple. Maybe I'll just die out here alone.
At least Davos won't get to watch.
That thought keeps me moving. One foot in front of the other. Don't give him the satisfaction.
The sun sets. The desert turns freezing cold at night. I huddle behind a rock, shivering. In the darkness, I see shapes moving. Animals? Spirits? I'm too tired to care.
"You were always going to stay in the gutters."
Isla's voice echoes in my head. Her smile when she testified against me. The way she held Davos's arm like she'd won some prize.
"She deserves execution."
Davos's cold eyes. Eight years together meant nothing. I was just a tool he used and threw away.
Tears freeze on my cheeks. I'm so angry I can barely breathe. They took everything from me. My freedom. My reputation. My sister. My life.
And I can't do anything about it.
"I'm so tired," I whisper to the empty desert. "I'm so tired of being nobody."
The wind picks up. It sounds almost like words. Like someone answering.
You're not nobody.
I shake my head. I'm hearing things. Thirst makes you imagine stuff.
When the sun rises, I see it. In the distance, through the heat shimmer—a building. Black stone rising from the sand like a mountain. The Scorched Temple.
I should feel afraid. Instead, I feel relief.
Finally. Finally it ends.
I walk toward it. Every step hurts. My vision blurs. I fall and don't get up for a long time. When I finally stand again, the temple is closer.
Strange symbols cover the walls. They glow red like dying coals. The entrance is a massive archway with no door—just darkness that looks solid somehow.
This is it. The place where the most powerful fire spirit in history was imprisoned. The place that kills anyone who gets too close.
I take another step.
Heat blasts outward. Not normal heat. Magic heat that makes my bones vibrate. The symbols on the walls burn brighter.
Another step. The heat gets worse. I should be dying. The stories say the wards turn people to ash instantly.
But I'm not ash. I'm still walking.
Why?
The symbols start moving, flowing across the stone like living fire. They reach toward me like curious hands. I freeze, expecting them to burn me.
Instead, they touch my arm gently. Testing. Searching.
Then they pull back. All of them. Like they recognize something.
The magical wards part like a curtain.
The entrance opens.
Impossible. The temple defenses have never let anyone through. Ever. But they're letting me pass.
"What am I?" I whisper.
The Magistrate's words echo in my memory. Your mother carried very special blood. Ancient bloodlines that can do impossible things with spirits.
No. That can't be real. I'm just a thief from the Ashwastes. I don't have magic. I don't have power.
But the temple disagrees.
I look back at the desert one last time. Somewhere out there, Lyra is still a prisoner. Davos and Isla are celebrating their victory. The Magistrate thinks he's won.
They all think I'm dead or dying.
Maybe I should be.
But something in my chest burns hotter than the desert sun. Something that refuses to give up.
I turn and walk through the entrance.
The temple swallows me whole. Darkness closes in, thick and heavy. My footsteps echo on stone I can't see. The air smells like old fire and something else—something ancient and angry.
Then I see light ahead. Red light. Pulsing like a heartbeat.
I walk toward it. The hallway opens into a massive chamber. And there, in the center on a black stone pedestal, sits a gemstone the size of my fist.
It's red. Blood red. And inside it, fire dances.
No—not fire. Something alive. Trapped.
Screaming.
I can hear it now. A voice that's been screaming for three hundred years.
My hand reaches out before I can stop myself. I shouldn't touch it. I know I shouldn't.
But that voice. That pain.
I understand it. I feel it.
My fingers brush the gemstone's surface.
It burns. Hot enough to melt stone. My blood drips onto it.
And the whole world explodes.