Chapter 22- Through the Ashes

The explosion rocked the compound, shaking the very ground beneath my feet. I was thrown backward, slamming into the cold, unforgiving walls. The air was thick with smoke, dust, and the acrid scent of burning metal. My head spun, and for a moment, I couldn’t tell if the world was still real or if it was all just a nightmare unfolding before my eyes.

I could barely hear anything over the ringing in my ears. But then, I remembered. Edward.

I fought through the haze, pushing myself up, my body screaming in protest. My lungs burned with each breath I took, but there was no time to waste.

“Edward!” I screamed, my voice hoarse, barely cutting through the smoke and chaos.

I staggered toward the center of the room, where I had last seen him. My eyes watered, not just from the smoke but from the sheer panic that gripped me. I couldn’t—no, I wouldn’t—lose him now.

But when I reached the spot where he had been, the space was empty. A cold, empty chill crept up my spine.

“Edward?!” My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill.

I turned around in a frantic search, my heart pounding in my chest. The sounds of footsteps approached—heavy, hurried. Lucian.

“Seraphina!” Lucian called out, his voice sharp and full of urgency. “Where is he?”

“I—I don’t know!” My words tumbled out in a frantic rush. “He was here! He was just here!”

Lucian didn’t wait for another word. He grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the exit with a force that left no room for argument. “Get moving, Seraphina. Now.”

I stumbled behind him, the adrenaline coursing through my veins, my mind still reeling from the explosion, from the loss I feared was already upon us. We couldn’t leave. We couldn’t just walk away. Not after all of this. Not after everything we had done to get to this point.

“We can’t leave without him!” I protested, fighting against Lucian’s grip, desperation building in my chest.

Lucian stopped, his eyes hard and cold, as he turned to face me. “You think I want to leave him behind?” His voice was low, controlled, but underneath it was a simmering anger that mirrored my own. “I know you’re scared, but you have to trust me. We need to get out. Now.”

I wanted to argue. I wanted to scream, to break down in front of him. But something in Lucian’s gaze held me back. It wasn’t just his command—it was the weight of what was at stake. Edward’s safety was just as important as mine, and if we didn’t move quickly, we would both lose.

Still, I couldn’t help the ache in my chest, the gnawing fear that told me something was terribly wrong.

We made our way through the compound, the sounds of explosions and gunfire ringing in the distance. Each step I took felt heavier, like I was carrying the world on my shoulders. I could feel the loss of Edward already, the empty space where his presence had once been.

“Lucian,” I said, barely able to find the strength to speak. “Where is he?”

Lucian didn’t answer immediately. He was focused, scanning the area, his expression unreadable. His eyes flickered to me, dark and intense, before he said, “We’ll find him. Trust me.”

But even as he spoke the words, I knew deep down that things weren’t going to be that simple. The explosion, the chaos, the speed with which they had arrived—it all felt wrong. It felt like we had been too late.

\---

We made it outside, but the night was still heavy with tension. The air was thick with smoke, the firelight flickering in the distance. Lucian motioned for me to stay low as we moved toward the waiting vehicle, but I wasn’t paying attention to the surroundings anymore. My eyes were fixed on the empty space around us, my mind consumed with one thought:

Edward.

Lucian pushed me into the car, his expression tense as he took the seat beside me. The engine roared to life, and we sped away, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong.

\---

Hours passed before we arrived at the safe house, and even then, the silence between Lucian and me felt suffocating. The weight of everything, of the unknown, was pressing down on me. I hadn’t seen Edward. I hadn’t heard from him. Was he alive? Was he hurt?

“Lucian,” I started, my voice breaking through the thick silence. “Where is he? Why didn’t we find him?”

Lucian didn’t look at me, his jaw clenched tightly. “We were too late. She moved him.”

The words hit me like a blow to the chest, but there was no time to process them. My mind was a whirlwind, thoughts spiraling, crashing into one another. My heart pounded in my chest, every beat a reminder of the fear that gripped me.

“Where is he?” I whispered, my voice cracking with desperation.

Lucian turned his head, his eyes shadowed by a dark intensity. “We’ll get him back,” he said, though his voice held a note of finality that left little room for hope. “But it won’t be easy.”

I wanted to scream, to shout at him. But the words wouldn’t come. The weight of the situation, of the loss, of the uncertainty—it was too much.

\---

The following days were a blur of motion and tension. Every plan, every action, every move was calculated, measured, but the sense of helplessness never left me. Isolde had taken Edward, and now we were in a race against time, not just to save him but to stop her from using him as leverage against us.

Lucian was relentless, focused entirely on the mission, but there was something in his demeanor that told me he was as shaken by the loss as I was. Yet, neither of us spoke of it. We couldn’t. Not when every moment mattered.

And all the while, Edward’s face haunted me. The look in his eyes when I’d last seen him—his pain, his desperation—it was etched into my mind. He was in the hands of our enemies, and I had no way of knowing if he was even alive.

\---

It was late one night, when the stars were hidden behind a thick blanket of clouds, that I finally broke.

I stood at the edge of the safe house, staring out into the night, trying to breathe, trying to calm the storm inside of me. But I couldn’t. Not anymore.

“Lucian,” I called out, my voice trembling. He appeared at my side a moment later, his presence looming behind me.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice low and cautious.

“I can’t do this,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t keep pretending like I’m okay. I can’t keep pretending that we’ll get him back.”

Lucian didn’t speak right away. Instead, he placed a hand on my shoulder, his touch firm but not comforting. “You don’t have a choice. We don’t have a choice.”

I nodded, though the words didn’t comfort me. There was no choice. Not anymore.

But the uncertainty—knowing that Edward was out there somewhere, suffering—was unbearable.

“I’ll get him back, Seraphina,” Lucian said, his voice low and steady. “We will. But you have to be ready. For whatever comes next.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.