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CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Ashes in the Moonlight
Screams tore through the night.
Flames clawed at the sky, devouring rooftops and splintered beams, turning the heavens into a canvas of smoke and ember. Shadows moved in the firelight ..not fleeing, but hunting ... men in black, their blades dripping red as they carved through anything that breathed.
A woman stumbled across the street, clutching a child to her chest. An arrow hissed through the smoke, burying itself in her spine. She pitched forward, the child tumbling from her arms, wailing once before the fire swallowed his cry.
The air reeked of burning flesh. Ash fell in slow, ghostly flakes, clinging to skin and blood alike.
Jason stood at the heart of the carnage, unable to move. His feet were rooted in the ruin, locked by a weight heavier than chains. Figures emerged through the haze .. not men, not beasts. Their eyes glowed molten like his own, burning with the same fire that lit the streets.
One of them smiled.
The heat swelled, pressing in from every side. The world buckled, walls melting, sky collapsing inward .
Jason woke with a sharp gasp, chest heaving, throat raw as though he had been screaming. Sweat clung to his skin in a sheen, cold despite the phantom heat that still wrapped around him.
A delicate hand slid across his bare back, tracing the lines of muscle with slow, lazy strokes. "More nightmares?"
The voice was low, feminine, touched with sleep.
He didn't answer. The silence was his shield. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Jason pushed himself to his feet and crossed the room. Bare soles met cool stone. The chamber was cloaked in shadows, broken only by the violet wash bleeding in through the balcony.
The night air greeted him as he stepped outside. It was crisp, almost sharp, carrying the scent of damp earth and jasmine from the palace gardens below. Above, the twin moons ruled the sky. Their surfaces were fractured, jagged scars running across their faces like wounds carved into the heavens. And yet, they glowed ...silver and violet light spilling over the balcony, soft and forgiving, as though the broken could still shine.
Jason's breath slowed. His gaze lingered on those wounded moons, the memory of fire still gnawing at the edges of his mind. He could hear the screams if he let the silence stretch too long. He could smell the smoke, taste the ash. And behind it all, deeper than flame, deeper than death, was that smile.
The smile burned hotter than the fire itself.
The hand that had touched his back was gone. He didn't turn to see if she had followed, or if she had simply withdrawn into the sheets to watch him from afar. The answer did not matter.
He gripped the balcony rail, fingers whitening against the cold stone. The marks on his palms caught the moonlight, scars that seemed to pulse as the memory gnawed deeper. Each breath was a war ..the present against the past, the cool night against the searing dream.
For a long moment he stood there, silent, unmoving. The palace below was still, its towers rising like sentinels in the silver glow. No flames. No screams. Just the soft hum of crickets and the distant hush of wind brushing across the city.
But in his mind, the world was still burning.
Jason closed his eyes. He saw the woman's fall, the child's brief cry, the hunters' molten gaze. His jaw tightened, a pulse beating in his temple. He forced air into his lungs, slow and steady, as though he could exhale the fire with every breath.
Behind him, sheets shifted. The faint creak of the bed. A soft rustle of silk against skin. She had not left. She was watching.
He did not turn.
The moons gazed down, fractured and eternal, and Jason stood in their glow with ash still clinging to his soul.
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