The canyon narrowed into a jagged pass, smoke curling thick across the stones. Elira felt the crown pulse harder, warning her. Kael's hand tightened on his blade.
"They're here," he said.
The Smokebound rose from the cracks—dozens of them, ember-eyed, whispering in unison. Ashra's voice carried above the rest. "The flame-bearer doubts her shadow. The shadow doubts himself. You will fall together."
Elira's mark flared, fire spilling from her palm. She stepped forward, but the smoke surged, wrapping around her legs, dragging her down. She gasped, flames sputtering.
Kael was already moving. His blade cut through the smoke, dispersing the whispers. He pulled her free, his grip firm. "Stay with me."
She met his eyes—steady, unyielding. The crown pulsed, whispering betrayal, but his hand didn't let go.
The Smokebound pressed closer, their forms shifting, multiplying. Elira raised her arm, fire blazing outward. Kael moved with her, blade and flame striking in rhythm. For a moment, they were not divided. They were one.
Ashra lunged, smoke twisting into a spear. Kael blocked, sparks flying. Elira's fire surged, engulfing Ashra's form. The lieutenant shrieked, dissolving into ash.
The canyon fell silent. The Smokebound scattered, retreating into cracks and shadows.
Elira stood, chest heaving, the crown glowing fiercely. Kael lowered his blade, eyes fixed on her. "You can't fight them alone," he said. "Not now. Not ever."
She swallowed, the crown's whisper echoing in her mind. Shadows betray. But Kael's hand was still steady, still there.