Chapter 174- Aftermath of Fire and Light
CJ
The battlefield still smoked like a dying furnace. Ash drifted through the air in lazy spirals, and the scorched earth hissed where droplets of blood had fallen moments ago. My lungs ached from the fumes, but my eyes—my eyes were on her.
Lexy.
When her flames erupted, I thought I had seen every shade of fire she could summon. Crimson like fury, white-hot like vengeance, blue like divinity. But this time… they changed. They deepened into a bright, unearthly yellow, as if the sun itself had chosen to live inside her.
The battlefield froze in awe.
She rose from the ground, her body no longer tethered to the dirt and destruction. Her hair whipped around her face in the strange wind her power stirred, and the glow of her eyes burned through the haze. She wasn’t just our queen at that moment. She was something greater—something beyond flesh and bone.
My throat tightened, because even I, her mate, her king, could feel it: she was no longer fighting alone. She had become a beacon.
Around me, I saw the glow spread. Our warriors, exhausted and bleeding, lifted their heads. The dull, hopeless weight in their gazes vanished as the same light ignited within them. It started with their wounds—cuts knitting shut, broken bones cracking back into place, strength returning where weakness had ruled.
I blinked hard. Even those who had fallen moments before stirred, gasping, clutching at life again. No power I had ever witnessed could do this—not even the old stories of gods and spirits carried by our elders compared to what Lexy had unleashed.
She was rewriting what was possible.
I stood still, trembling against the enormity of it.
The ground beneath us, blackened by battle, shimmered faintly as though the earth itself responded to her presence. Kael and Adrian had already fled in the chaos, but their departure barely registered. In that instant, the enemy no longer mattered. What mattered was her.
“Lexy…” I whispered, though the word was torn away by the wind.
Then, her body faltered. Her glow pulsed brighter, brighter, until suddenly it snapped—and she plummeted.
I was moving before I thought. My legs cut across the battlefield, weaving through debris and the stunned ranks of our soldiers. My heart stopped until my arms wrapped around her, catching her limp form against my chest.
Her head lolled against me, her skin hot as embers cooling after a storm. Sweat dampened her temples, but her breathing—thank the spirits—was steady. Shallow, but steady.
“I’ve got you, love,” I murmured, pressing my lips to her brow. “You’re safe. You’re safe.”
The silence that followed was unlike anything I’d ever known in battle. Our people didn’t cheer immediately. They simply stood, hundreds of warriors and allies alike, staring at their queen glowing faintly even in unconsciousness, and me—just a man, holding her, praying she’d wake again.
Finally, it was Tarria who broke the stillness. She raised her weapon high, her voice raw and shaking, but strong. “For the Queen!”
The shout rolled across the ranks like thunder. Weapons lifted. Battered voices, still hoarse with exhaustion, roared together. “For the Queen!”
The chant rose, an anthem carried by the newly lit fire inside every chest. Some dropped to their knees, some cried openly, some reached for the comrades who moments ago they thought dead. They weren’t just celebrating survival—they were proclaiming her as the very heart that bound them.
I held her closer, shielding her from the overwhelming weight of that devotion, though I knew she deserved every ounce of it.
Her flames had restored them, but I wondered at the cost.
I carried her beyond the worst of the wreckage, toward the ridges where Doc had already been waiting for us. Every step felt heavy, not from her weight, but from the fear pressing on me.
What if she burned too brightly? What if giving us all that strength had drained too much from her?
As I lowered her gently onto a cloak spread across the grass, Doc rushed forward, hands trembling as she assessed her. But she hesitated. The golden aura still lingered faintly on her skin, as if daring anyone unworthy to touch her.
“She won’t allow us near,” Doc whispered, her eyes wide with reverence and fear.
“She’ll allow me,” I said firmly.
I brushed strands of hair from Lexy’s face, willing her to stir. My hand found hers, squeezing. Her fingers twitched faintly, and I clung to that movement like it was a lifeline.
“She’s alive,” I announced, loud enough for Doc and those nearby to hear. Relief rippled outward. The Doc began working on her and check our pup, herbs burning softly in the air, careful not to disturb whatever divine force still wrapped around her.
Kneeling beside her, I let myself breathe, finally.
I thought back to our training, to the times we had argued over strategy, to the vows we had made as king and queen, as mates. We trained to be one on the battlefield, but I had seen now that she was more than even we had imagined. She was light incarnate.
And with light, always came shadow.
I couldn’t shake the thought. Adrian and Kael had escaped in the smoke. They had seen what she could do. They would regroup, plot, and come harder than before.
But for this moment, I allowed myself to look at her—not as queen, not as savior, not even as warrior. Just as Lexy. My Lexy, my muñeca, who had burned herself to keep us alive.
“You can rest now,” I whispered. “I’ll hold the line until you wake.”
Around us, the battlefield shifted. Warriors began gathering the wounded, arresting the ones that gave up, piling weapons from the fallen, reestablishing order. Leaders from allied packs and tribes approached cautiously, bowing their heads in her direction. They didn’t look to me as king. They looked to her as a living miracle.
And I accepted that. I would always stand in her shadow, if it meant she could shine.
But I vowed silently, as I watched her chest rise and fall, that no one—Adrian, Kael, or any force in this world—would take her from me. Not after this.
I brushed my thumb against her knuckles, leaning close so only she could hear, even in sleep.
“You changed them, Lexy. You gave them hope when it was nearly gone. But you gave me something even greater—you reminded me why I fight. Not for the crown, not even for victory. For you. Always for you.”
And as the sun broke through the lingering smoke, gilding the battlefield in light that echoed her flames, I knew this war had just entered a new chapter. The world had witnessed their queen ascend into something no enemy could ignore.
But for now, as her king, I would simply hold her, guard her, and wait for the moment her eyes opened again.
Because when they did, the fire would rise once more.
“CJ, I need to tell you something” Doc whispered to me.
I stood and followed her. “Is something wrong?” I asked worriedly.
“She's good. I never got to give the results from last time. The reason she’s been different is because is triplets”.
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