LOGIN---"Aren't you supposed to be dead?" I ask. My voice comes out thin. Shaky. Not the voice of the Phoenix. The voice of the woman I used to be. "I watched you die. That very day. I watched you fall. I watched the light leave your eyes."Marcus just stands there.He doesn't move. He doesn't blink. He just stands in the spot where the seal used to be, in the spot where the stone shattered, in the spot where the fear screamed and died. His eyes are glowing—that soft, warm glow I used to love. The glow I used to look for in a crowded room. The glow that made me feel safe once, a lifetime ago.Damon is frozen beside me.I can feel him. I can feel the tension in his body, the way his hand is already on his gun, the way his breath has gone shallow and hard. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know whether to shoot or run or grab me and pull me behind him.Every member of the team is surprised.Zara has her bow raised but she hasn't drawn it back. Helena is staring with her mouth open. Cut
---The tree dies the moment we leave.I don't see it happen, I don't turn around, but I feel it, a shift in the air, a coldness creeping in, like someone just snuffed out a candle in a dark room. I stop walking, I look back.The tree is still standing, still green, still alive.But something is different."What's wrong?" Damon asks."Nothing," I lie.But it's not nothing. The tree is still there, but the hope it represented is fading. The second seal is strengthened, but the third seal is still weak. And the closer we get to it, the more the hope drains away.---We drive for two days.The wasteland stretches out around us, endless and empty, the sky is dark, the air is cold, the world is quiet.But it's not the peaceful kind of quiet, not the kind that comes from safety, the kind that comes from fear, the kind that comes before the storm."We're getting close," Julian says."Close to what?""The city of shadow, the place where fear lives.""Where is it?"He points ahead, at the hori
---The truck tears through the wasteland and I can't stop shaking.Not from the cold. Not from the fear. From everything. From the guardian's words. From the Collective's attack. From the weight of a world that keeps putting itself on my shoulders like I'm the only one strong enough to carry it.Damon's arm is around me. His grip is tight. His breath is warm on my neck. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to. He just holds me, and I let him, and for a few minutes, the shaking stops."You okay?" he asks."No.""You're bleeding."I look down. There's a cut on my arm—a scratch, really, from the rubble, from the running, from the chaos. It's not deep. It's not dangerous.But it's bleeding.And for some reason, that makes me want to cry."I'm fine," I say."You're not fine.""I'm fine.""Elara—""Damon." I turn to look at him. At his grey eyes. At his worried face. "I'm fine. I promise."He doesn't believe me. I can see it in his eyes. But he doesn't push. He just holds me tighter.-
---Her eyes are the color of old milk.Pale. Cloudy. Almost blind. But they find me anyway, cutting through the darkness like they've been waiting for me their whole life. Maybe they have. Maybe she's been waiting for someone like me for centuries, trapped in this tomb, bound to this seal, kept alive by nothing but duty and stubbornness and a promise she made to a world that forgot her."Phoenix," she whispers again.Her voice is dry as dust. Old as time. It sounds like wind through a graveyard, like dead leaves scraping against stone."I'm here," I say. "I'm not going to hurt you."She laughs. It turns into a cough. Blood bubbles on her cracked lips."Hurt me? Child, I've been waiting for you. I've been waiting for someone to come and end this.""End what?""The waiting. The watching. The dying that never quite finishes."---Damon kneels beside me.His hand is on my shoulder. His grey eyes are fixed on the woman in the tomb, wary and hard. He doesn't trust her. He doesn't trust any
---Julian doesn't sleep.I find him in the archives the next morning, surrounded by books and papers and maps, his eyes red, his hands shaking, his face pale. He's been up all night. He's been working since the moment we left the chamber, since the moment we learned about the seals, since the moment we realized we might actually have a chance."Did you find anything?" I ask.He looks up. His blue eyes are wild."I found everything."---He spreads the papers across the table.Lyra's book is open in the center, its pages covered in words that appeared while we watched. But there's more now. Diagrams. Symbols. A map."There are three seals," Julian says. "You already know that. But there's more. Each seal has a guardian. A protector. Someone who was bound to it when the prison was created.""Bound how?""Sacrificed. Their life force keeps the seal strong. When the seal weakens, the guardian weakens. When the guardian dies, the seal breaks."I feel the cold settle in my chest."So the g
---Damon's hand is still in mine when the sun comes up.We've been standing on the observation deck for hours. Neither of us has spoken in a while. Neither of us has needed to. The words from Lyra's book are still echoing in my head, bouncing off the walls of my skull, and I can't make them stop.You have one year.One year. Three hundred and sixty-five days. That's how long we have to strengthen the seals, to stop the prison from breaking, to save the world one more time.And I'm supposed to die doing it."Say something," Damon says."I don't know what to say.""Say what you're thinking.""I'm thinking I'm tired."He looks at me. His grey eyes are soft."Tired of what?""Everything. Fighting. Dying. Coming back. Doing it all over again.""You don't have to do it again.""I do.""You don't—""Damon." I turn to face him. "The world is going to end. There's a prison beneath the veil. There's something inside it that wants to consume everything. And I'm the only one who can stop it.""Y







