Chapter 160
The heat is unbearable, searing through the air in shimmering waves as the magma crawls closer, swallowing everything in its path. I feel it through the stone beneath me, a steady, rising pulse of doom. And still, all I can do is watch Cora.
She’s on her knees, her head bowed, her shoulders shaking. It doesn’t seem real. Cora—unshakable, unrelenting Cora—has finally cracked. The sight of her like this shatters something in me.
“I’m never going to tell him,” she chokes out, her voice raw. “I’m never going to tell Khale how I feel.” She lifts her head just enough for me to see the tears streaming down her face, cutting through the grime like tiny rivers. “I swore I wouldn’t. After Felix, I swore. I promised myself I wouldn’t put myself in that position again.”
“Cora…” My voice trembles. I’ve never seen her like this—this small, this human. She doesn’t hear me.
“Oh, Felix,” she whispers brokenly, as though his name alone is too much weight for her heart. “I let him down. I let Delphinium down.” Her gaze finds mine, those sharp blue eyes now red-rimmed and lost. “And Phoebe… Oh Gods, I’m never going to see my baby again.”
Her words hit like a punch to the gut. It’s too much—the heat, the fear, and seeing her crumble before my eyes. I drop to my knees and pull her into a hug, my arms wrapping around her trembling frame.
“Stop it,” I whisper fiercely, pressing my cheek to the crown of her head. “Stop it, Cora. You are the most courageous person I know. You are the strongest person I’ve ever met, and there’s no way—no way—this is how your story ends.”
Her sobs wrack through me, and I hold her tighter, as though I can physically hold her together. “You mean too much to too many people. You’re the reason Khale’s still fighting. You’re the reason I’m still fighting. And you’re going to see Delphinium again, Cora. I swear it.”
The magma creeps closer, a slow, insidious crackle growing louder, closer like the earth itself is laughing at us. My heart races, tand he back of my throat burns, but I won’t let go of her. Not now. Not when she needs me.
I close my eyes and reach for my power, that familiar spark of electricity that’s saved me before. But this time, I only feel flickers, weak and fleeting, like static on a broken radio. I strain harder, desperation flooding me as the heat rises. Nothing. I’m burned out.
A scream builds in my chest—rage, helplessness, the sheer unfairness of it all—and I let it loose, lifting my face to the jagged ceiling above.
“Electra!” My voice echoes, furious and sharp. “Electra! It’s time to wake up and get your ass into gear. Your heirs need you!”
For a moment, there’s nothing but silence, broken only by the slow crackle of approaching magma. Then, a voice—a voice as old as the ocean, smooth and cold as a current—rings in my head.
Have I not given you enough? Electra’s voice hums through me, filled with ancient authority. An Elder Kin lies dead not a league away because of me.
“Not because of you,” I snarl, my chest heaving with righteous anger. “Because of me. I fought off the Elder Kin. I learned to channel through the ether. You might be the source of my power, but it’s my power, and you’re not going to tell me when I’ve used enough.”
The voice returns, sharp as sea glass. Bold, reckless.
“Yeah,” I snap. I think of Cora, sobbing and broken beside me. I think of my mother—so human, yet so strong in her own quiet way. I think of my great-aunt Delphinium, enduring horrors no one should have to face and still holding on to love. This is the legacy Electra created. This is what Twilight’s blood has brought to life.
“Of course I’m bold. Of course, I’m reckless,” I growl, the fire rising in my chest. “That’s what you made us. That’s what I am—your youngest daughter. Your line will not end here, you flaky bitch!”
The words are barely out of my mouth before I grab Cora’s hand. Something inside me snaps into place like a current finally meeting its circuit. That silver crackle I felt once before surges to life, but this time it’s not hot like fire. It’s deliciously cold, like plunging into dark, midnight waters.
A blinding white flash erupts around us, so brilliant I have to squeeze my eyes shut. The power roars through me, through us, louder than thunder and deeper than the ocean. It vibrates through every stone, every crack, every drop of lava, and then—
Silence.
The crackle of magma is gone. The oppressive heat dissipates, replaced by something cooler, something still.
I open my eyes, blinking against the sudden calm, and let out a shaky breath. The cavern around us is transformed. What had been a seething river of magma moments ago is now…glass. Black, gleaming obsidian stretches in every direction, smooth and flawless like a frozen sea.
Cora lifts her head slowly, her tear-streaked face a mask of awe and disbelief. She crawls toward the edge of the flow and hesitates, her hand hovering just above the surface.
“Cora, don’t!” I blurt, my voice hoarse. But she ignores me, brushing her fingertips against the glassy surface. Her eyes go wide, and she looks back at me, stunned.
“It’s fine,” she breathes, her voice trembling. “The lava… it’s obsidian glass.”
I push myself onto my elbows, wincing as my splinted leg protests, and take in the cavern. She’s right. The magma, the danger—it’s all gone, transformed into an endless expanse of dark, polished glass. It’s hauntingly beautiful, like walking on the surface of a black mirror.
Cora rises unsteadily to her feet, turning in slow circles to take it all in. “It’s all obsidian glass.”
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