We weren’t supposed to go outside that day. Rain pounded the compound windows like a thousand drumming fingers, and the sky had been gray for days. The guardians had declared it an indoor-only kind of afternoon, but that hadn’t stopped us.

  I was maybe eight, curled on the floor by the window, tracing lazy spirals in the fogged-up glass. Phoenix was nearby, arms crossed and watching the door like she could will it to open. Helena sat behind me, fingers tugging gently at tangles in my wet hair.

  “You should let me braid it,” she’d said. “Otherwise you’ll just fly and tangle it again.”

  “Let her,” Bay added, pacing like a caged tiger. “Better than sitting here like ghosts. We need to do something or I’m going to explode.”

  Then she grinned, sudden and wild. “Let’s go outside.”

  “We’ll get in trouble,” Phoenix muttered.

  “Since when has that stopped us?”

  It hadn’t. Ten minutes later, we were barefoot in the mud, laughing like we hadn’t just been through another brutal training session that morning. Bay pulled water from puddles and sent it spinning in the air like ribbons. Helena made flowers grow in the rain, their petals opening despite the cold. Phoenix summoned a trio of skeletal frogs that danced across the path, their tiny bones clicking in rhythm.

  Ella was already halfway across the field, beaming up at the sky. “Watch this!” she shouted, throwing both hands toward the clouds. Sunlight—actual sunlight—broke through in scattered beams, shimmering like gold. “Rain’s boring. Let’s make it sparkle!”

  Angelina laughed and slammed a foot into the ground, sending out a harmonic pulse that rippled through the puddles, making them dance and shimmer like water set to music. She turned to Ella. “You’re just showing off.”

  Ella shot her a grin. “Jealous?”

  “Only of your lack of volume control.”

  And me? I soared.

  I launched into the rain, wings outstretched, golden feathers streaking through the storm. I flew circles above the others, whooping and laughing, the cold air biting my cheeks but filling my chest with fire. Below me, Ella raised her arms and lit the sky again, her light catching the tips of my wings as I passed overhead, and I heard Angelina yell, “Zoe, dive!”

  I swooped down dramatically, skimming over their heads before pulling up hard and spiraling upward again. Even Phoenix laughed.

  When I landed, soaked and breathless, we collapsed into the grass in a heap, our laughter echoing across the compound grounds. We were a mess of tangled limbs and muddy clothes and wild hearts.

  “We’ll always have this,” I said.

  Bay grinned. “I’m building us a castle by the sea someday.”

  “I’ll fly us there,” I added.

  “I’ll make sure it’s protected,” Helena said.

  Angelina tossed her head back, water dripping from her curls. “I’ll make sure no one ever messes with us.”

  Ella raised her hand like a toast. “To the unstoppable six!”

  Phoenix was quiet for a second. Then she smiled—just a little. “I don’t care where we go. As long as we’re together.”

  And for a moment, it felt like we really would be.

  We stepped off the bus into the heart of Denver. The air was dry, sharp with exhaust and the tang of something metallic that clung to the back of my throat. Even this far from the last fight, I still felt like I was breathing in ash. The streets buzzed with the low murmur of late-night traffic, neon signs flickering in the twilight gloom. The city was loud, alive—and yet, something in it felt still. Like it was holding its breath.

  I adjusted the strap of my bag and glanced over at Helena. Her soft red hair was wind-tossed, the curls fraying around her face, and though her expression was calm, I saw the tension in her shoulders. She looked like she was waiting for something to go wrong.

  Honestly, so was I.

  We didn’t speak at first. The plan was simple: find food, find shelter, and figure out the next leg of the journey. We were closer now—so close we could almost feel the pull of our friends on the horizon. But we barely made it two blocks from the terminal before everything changed.

  The air shifted—thicker, heavy with magic and malice. It started with a silence. A strange hush fell over the street, the buzz of the city dampened like someone had turned the volume down. People moved faster, eyes fixed forward, crossing the street or ducking into buildings without realizing why.

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  Helena froze mid-step, her hand lightly brushing mine. “Behind us.”

  I didn’t ask. I turned, my heart already thundering.

  It stepped out from between two buildings, its presence warping the air around it. Towering and hunched, its limbs too long and its skin mottled with bristling fur and molten-scale plates that shimmered like fresh-forged iron. Its eyes burned—a glowing, golden heat—and when it opened its mouth, jagged fangs dripped with black saliva that sizzled as it hit the ground.

  But it wasn’t the way it looked that stopped me.

  It was the way it spoke.

  “You can’t run from him,” it rasped, voice wet and inhuman, but unmistakably deliberate. “Cole is coming.”

  I froze. Not from fear, but confusion. Monsters didn’t work with humans.

  Helena reacted first, slamming her foot down. A vine ripped through the cracks in the pavement, wrapping around one of the monster’s legs with a snap. I reached for my daggers, hands already moving on instinct. My wings twitched beneath my jacket, begging to unfurl.

  “Who is Cole?” I demanded, stepping forward.

  The monster grinned. “Your end.”

  Then it lunged.

  Helena’s vines tightened, yanking it back just enough to give me an opening. I moved fast—ducking under one swing, pivoting as I slashed across its exposed ribs. It howled, and steam hissed from the wound. The fight was brutal, but brief. Helena tangled it again, slowing its movement long enough for me to drive both blades into its chest.

  The monster crumpled into ash, hot and sulfurous, the echo of its last words burning in my ears.

  Cole is coming.

  For a moment, Helena and I just stood there, catching our breath. The street had gone eerily quiet again, like the city was pretending nothing had happened.

  “We need to move,” Helena said, brushing ash off her sleeve. Her voice was steady, but her eyes were stormy. “Someone might’ve heard that fight.”

  I nodded, slipping my blades away, my mind still reeling. Monsters didn’t work with humans, who could this Cole be?

  We slipped back toward the terminal, blending in with the late evening stragglers. A few people glanced our way, but no one stopped us. We were just two more travelers with haunted eyes and heavy bags.

  By some miracle, the next bus west hadn’t left yet. It was scheduled to depart in under an hour, headed toward the Oregon coast. I bought our tickets while Helena stood watch near the doors. We boarded as soon as they let us, sliding into a pair of worn seats near the back.

  Only when we were on the road again did I feel the tight coil in my chest begin to ease.

  The hum of the engine and the steady sway of the bus were almost enough to lull me into sleep, but my mind wouldn’t stop spinning.

  “That name,” Helena said after a while, staring out at the lights fading behind us. “Cole. I’ve heard it before.”

  I looked over, heart still thudding from the memory. “Where?”

  She didn’t turn, just kept her eyes on the window. “When we were first brought to the compound… I remember hearing Thalos say that name. I was standing in the hallway, half-hidden, listening. The other guardians were there too. They were arguing—quietly, but serious. I didn’t understand everything they were saying. I was only eight. But I remember that name. And I remember that it scared them.”

  That chill returned, low in my spine. “Whoever he is… he knows who we are. He sent that thing after us.”

  Helena nodded, her fingers curling tightly around the strap of her bag. “We need to find out more. Before he finds us again.”

  I leaned my head back against the seat, staring up at the ceiling of the bus. My pulse was still racing. I closed my eyes and tried to slow it.

  But one thought kept looping through my head, over and over.

  Who is Cole?

  Why is he coming after us?

  And how the hell do we stop him?

  The hours passed in a haze of asphalt and mountains, our bus weaving through winding roads and distant pine forests. I didn’t sleep—just stared out the window as the light faded from gold to gray. Helena dozed beside me, her head tilted against the glass, a crease still between her brows even in sleep.

  We were both exhausted, but sleep didn’t bring peace—not when shadows were chasing us.

  By the time we reached the Oregon coast, the sky was thick with clouds, heavy with salt and fog. The scent of the ocean hit me first—sharp and briny, a welcome change from diesel and fear.

  Helena and I stepped off the bus, our bags slung over our shoulders, the breeze tangling in her red curls and tugging at the collar of my jacket. I pulled it tighter around my wings, trying not to shiver.

  “We’re close,” I murmured. “Bay said there’d be a lighthouse.”

  Helena nodded and pointed down a side road that cut toward the cliffs. We walked in silence, the only sound the gulls crying in the distance and the crash of waves below.

  Then a sharp clicking echoed through the mist.

  Helena stiffened, her hand going to her bag. I followed the sound with my eyes until I saw it—a skeletal bird perched on a crooked fencepost near the path, its bone-white wings twitching, its empty eye sockets somehow… aware.

  I raised a brow. “I’m guessing that’s ours.”

  The bird gave an almost indignant caw, then lifted off in a burst of bony flaps and wheeled toward the cliffs. Helena and I exchanged a glance, then followed.

  The trail led to a crumbling lighthouse, weather-beaten and gray, standing like a sentinel against the sea. And waiting just beyond it—through the swirling mist and wind—were two figures.

  One tall and powerful like the ocean itself, the other pale and shadowed like the space between worlds.

  Bay. Phoenix.

  We’d made it.

  Bay and Phoenix were locked in a fierce sparring match—Bay commanding sweeping arcs of water with powerful, fluid gestures while Phoenix countered with a ring of skeletal warriors and a thick, carved staff that cracked against bone and spray alike. The clash of their magic echoed over the cliffs, a stunning display of raw control and strength. We watched, completely mesmerized. Since we had seen them last, their abilities had sharpened, grown—honed into something formidable.

  Bay’s grin widened the moment her eyes met ours, and with a playful flick of her wrist, the water spiraling around her dropped to the ground in a soft splash. Phoenix’s staff lowered a beat later, and the skeletal warriors faded into the earth. Bay bounded toward us without hesitation, water still dripping from her clothes, and caught Helena in a tight hug, nearly lifting her off the ground.

  “You’re here!” she beamed, voice breathless with excitement.

  Phoenix followed at a slower pace, her pale face calm but her icy blue eyes bright with warmth. “Took you long enough,” she said, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She reached out and squeezed my hand gently, her fingers cool and steady. Without thinking, I pulled her into a hug. For a moment, she stiffened in surprise—but then she melted into it, her arms wrapping tightly around me. We stood like that, the mist swirling around us, grounding each other in the only way we knew how.

  We were together again. Not whole. Not yet. But closer.

  Closer than we’d been in ten years.