Page 118 of Born in Fire

Phoenix.

Chapter 36

Juno

Fire embraces me like an old friend.

The flames that should burn instead caress my skin, wrapping around my body in ribbons of heat and light. For one terrifying moment, I’m certain I’ve made a fatal mistake—walking into fire to reach Dorian.

Then something shifts inside me. Not memory, but deeper—cellular recognition. The fire isn’t my enemy. It’s part of me. Has always been part of me.

My skin begins to glow from within, light pushing outward through every pore. My body stretches, changes, transforms. Bones hollow. Muscles reconfigure. I should be screaming in agony, but the sensation is exquisite—like shedding a too-tight skin I never knew I wore.

Wings erupt from my back—not scaled like a dragon’s, but feathered with light. My arms extend, fingers elongating into primary feathers that shimmer with golden fire. My visionsharpens until I can count the scales on the dragons surrounding Dorian.

Dorian. My love. Chained and bleeding on the ground.

The sight of him—broken, wounded—ignites something ferocious inside me. Protective rage floods my system, burning away the last of my fear. Without conscious thought, I push upward, wings catching the night air.

I’m flying.

Flying!

The sensation is indescribable—freedom and power and rightness. Just like he told me the day that I died. I remember it now; so much is clear.

I bank sharply, circling the flame barrier, seeing everything with impossible clarity. Dorian’s blood pooling beneath him. The chains cutting into his wrists. The man standing over him, holding a glowing shard—his face a mask of shock as he stares upward at me.

Three dragons break formation, launching into the air to intercept me. Their massive wings beat powerfully, scaled bodies sleek and deadly as they climb toward my position.

I should be terrified. I’m not.

Power thrums through me, gathering in my chest, spreading down my wings. I don’t know how I know what to do—I just do. As the first dragon reaches me, jaws opening to reveal razor teeth, I extend my wings fully and release.

Golden fire explodes outward in a perfect circle. It engulfs the attacking dragon completely. There’s no time for it to scream—one moment, it exists, the next, there’s nothing but ash drifting on thermal currents. Just like Tyler. Gone in an instant.

The other two dragons falter, backwinging frantically. Too late. My fire finds them, too, erasing them from existence as effortlessly as breathing.

Below, mayhem takes over. The man with the Shard—I recognize him now as the leader who held Dorian captive in my vision—exchanges a quick glance with a blonde woman whose eyes glow with the same unnatural light as the crystal he holds. Without a word, they turn and flee, taking the remaining dragons with them.

I could pursue them. Some part of me wants to—the part that burns with righteous fury at what they’ve done to Dorian. But his life matters more than vengeance.

I dive, wings folding close to my body, plummeting toward the circle of fire. The flames part as I pass through them, landing beside Dorian’s broken form.

“Juno,” he whispers, eyes glazed with pain. Blood coats his chest, spreading in an alarming pool beneath him.

I reach for the chains binding his wrists. As my transformed hands touch the metal, it glows white-hot, then dissolves into nothing. The restraints fall away, but Dorian doesn’t move. His breathing comes in shallow gasps, skin ashen beneath his tan.

Freeing him isn’t enough. He’s dying.

The knowledge hits me with terrible certainty. These wounds are fatal—he’s lost too much blood, and something about the chains has prevented his supernatural healing.

But I know what will save him. The knowledge appears in my mind fully formed, as if it’s always been there, waiting for this moment.

The Heartstone.

I gather Dorian in my arms, cradling him against my body. He feels lighter than he should, or perhaps I’m stronger in this form. His head lolls against my chest, eyes fluttering.

“Stay with me,” I whisper, voice resonating with harmonics that weren’t there before. “Please, stay with me.”

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