The thorn crown

Smoke curled through the trees.

Ash rained soft and slow, like snow that had forgotten how to be gentle.

I blinked. My vision swam.

The world was red and gold and too bright.

I couldn't move.

Couldn't feel my hands.

But I felt him.

Kael.

His arms around me.

His pulse hammering through my cheek, pressed to his chest.

The scent of burnt moss and iron clung to his skin.

His voice was a rasp in my ear.

"You're okay. You're okay. You're okay."

I wasn't.

Not even close.

"What did I do?" I asked, or maybe thought. My mouth didn't work right.

He didn't answer.

But the tremble in his grip said enough.

I tried to lift my head. Saw the riverbed...charred black. Trees splintered. Bodies gone.

Vaporized.

"Oh," I whispered.

Kael pulled me closer. "Don't look."

"I need to"

"No, you don't."

His hand cupped the back of my neck.

Gentle. Too gentle.

Like he thought I'd shatter if he touched me wrong.

Maybe I would.

I'd always wanted to feel.

But this?

This was too much.

"Make it stop," I murmured.

He didn't say he could.

He just held me tighter.

And the silence around us felt holy and cursed at once.

This is what it means, I thought.

To be powerful.

To be dangerous.

To be afraid of your own skin.