Warning: blood and gore.

Ice pierced through the air like a wild bullet. Emery leaped forward without even thinking about how this would turn out or if anything would even happen. Magic's light tingled under his skin, weak as it had always been. He threw his hand back, focusing all of his energy on this one last stand. Palm out, he pushed Silas out of the way of the flames. Dread ate into him. Nauseous, he closed his eyes in wait for a slow and painful death. 

Nothing ever came. 

Evaporated by the heat, flames dragged from his skin. It felt amazing. Just as he remembered it when he was young, his affinity to magic was unlike any other. It coursed through his veins with the familiarity of an old friend. He welcomed it back. 

Fantastically bright tendrils of light flailed, and he lost his grip on Silas. When they hit the ground, his connection began to sever. It slipped from his fingertips, but he was desperate to hold onto it. Emery forced every ounce of strength he had to feed the flame. Prayers even left his lips, roaring into the steam and chilled air for God to welcome him back into the arms of light. Then, it stopped. 

Everything stopped. 

In an instant, it all came to a halt. Unmoving and not a single sound. No twisting of metal, no snapping of fire, cracking of glass or ice. A still image stood before him. A perfect illustration of this very moment.  

Something called to Emery then. It wasn't a voice. Not really. It was a sense. A seduction. A vehemence surged through him and whispered sweetly in his ear for more. To eat more. The ice, her magic, her. And Emery wanted to listen to it. Oh, did he want to. He would have given anything the whisper wished for. But before that could happen, the flames pulled into themselves, bursting into an array of an overwhelming light. The resulting force threw them back. 

Jaded metal stabbed into his side the instant he made contact with the fractured train door. Groaning in agony, gravity pushed him down, the tan fibers of his jacket tearing at the back. Blood poured from his wound, skin ablaze. Ignoring this as best he could, his eyes frantically searched the train car for the mage. She was gone. Quickly he reached for Silas, who had shielded himself from the blast. 

"You fucking demon!" The mage's flesh had melted from her bones, dragging behind her as she pulled herself back in through the window. Bloodshot, red tears ran from her eyes, but she was far from crying. 

Fractals of light manifested into a sharp blade of ice in her hand. Kicking Emery's shoulder, he quickly went down. Every bit of energy escaped him. He felt sick, tired, useless as she pulled her arm back. The tip of her blade pressed into his forehead while she held him down. It was slow. Precise. Her grin grew wild as she witnessed the blood fall from his third eye like a teardrop. "Rot in hell!" 

He sucked in a breath, and…she gasped. She pulled the ice from his flesh. A sharpened piece of the train's metal had impaled the mage, exiting her heart. Her eyes were wide and dazed by the object protruding from her chest as the ice blade shattered to the floor. Blood pouring from her teeth, she turned to the Vazeer behind her and hit the floor.

Monroe knelt to her, severing the ornament clasp from her wrist, ripping the skin. The stones did not react under his touch, despite the glow of his hand. They never did.

"Em, take these." Monroes held them out but received no reply. He turned to Emery, whose eyes were slowly closing, body slumped in a pool of blood. "Fynn!" 

The boy tore his attention away from the girl, fumbling to the floor as he reached for the older soldier. Under pale green light, the skin knitted back together, the wound whole again. Though it was red around its edges. 

Twitching, Fynn glanced between Monroe and the Litisan as if expecting something more. He could heal her. He had to heal her. Swallowing hard, he blinked, never tearing his eyes from her as Monroe continued to belt out commands.

"We need to get out of here," Monroe said, pulling Silas to his feet by the thief's black scarf and collar. His gaze briefly brushed over the girl. "Forget the train. We continue on foot. Fynn!" 

Fynn flinched again, tugging at the hem of his shirt. Quietly, understanding it was inappropriate to say, he bit his lip. "We can't just let her die."

Monroe stared hard at him, stepping forward, his boots crunching under broken red glass. "I didn't realize you were fraternizing with the enemy, soldier." 

"No, I'm not, I -"

"That woman," Monroe pointed his bloodstained finger at the still mage. "Has killed hundreds of our people. She destroyed this train. She slaughtered innocent people, children, and you want to save her life?"

Fynn stood down, eyes to the floor over at the only corner not painted with blood.

"That's what I thought." Turning to his brother, Monroe's scowl turned to murder. "I told you to watch the thief."

In a tired breath, the man replied, "I did." 

"He was almost killed. Our best lead to figuring out how Litis uses our own magic against us, and you almost let him die!" 

Emery opened his mouth to say something more but sucked in a breath instead. Faintly, he asked, "Are there any survivors?" 

Seething, Monroe still answered. "Heading East with soldiers from the fourth division. It's out of our hands now." 

Relieved, Emery let out his breath. "Litis has never gotten this far before."

"It was a small group. Only five or so, and they've taken care of. Stay alert. There could be more." He eyed Silas. "Move out!" 

Monroe jumped from the train first, followed by Fynn, who slammed hard into the grass. As for Silas, it was almost as if he hadn't leaped from the train, suddenly appearing silently in the brush beside them. Lastly, Emery placed his foot into the window but paused when the woman chuckled behind him.

"I heard it." Life was draining from her, speech slow and fading. "Whisper." 

His heart slammed inside his chest. 

Emery could still feel it in his hand. The skin was rough with a slight burn. Around the car, the metal was shaded in black scorch marks. Charred around the edges, the carpet had frayed. This had happened. He happened. He never amounted to anything in all his life, never knowing what could have been his had he not lost his connection. And here, out of nowhere, the flames did burn.

Why? 

Desperate for answers, he turned to her. What had she felt? What did she hear? He needed to know what happened when their magic crossed. However, before he could even get a word out, her breathing stopped. He slumped back, his grip tightening on the window frame.

Litis and Carpathia were at war. Magic's light and the stones crossed all the time. What about them made the reaction different? 

"Emery!" Monroe yelled.

He jerked, regaining his senses, and dropped out of the train.