The residents of Arego are screaming. I hear them as soon as I burst through the front door, following Celestine and my parents. The dark clouds splotch out any moonlight thus all I perceive are the shadows of buildings, running figures, and smoke. Endless amounts of smoke. They're burning the village, one building at a time.

Flames roar against the night sky and rise to meet those dark clouds rumbling so loud with thunder I can scarcely hear my own thoughts. The ground shakes with every boom, trembling the solid surface underneath my boots. I whirl, aiming to gather anything to tell me who and what is attacking.

My heart hurries in my chest. Someone attempting to flee the attackers bumps into me from behind and persists in the opposite direction. No apologies, not tonight. Not when our entire world is crumbling.

Already, witches of water are struggling to put out the flames rising higher and higher with every second. One after the other, the buildings are engulfed until the heat on my back is scorching and my father drags me away, into the middle of the street, and away from our own home—now swallowed by those blazes. There's no way to stop it—I watch as my home is taken away from me with nowhere to run.

My father grips my arm. "Get your sister somewhere safe. Once she's secure, get to the edge of the village. We might need you," he orders. I nod but his words are rattling around in my skull and refusing to settle.

What did he say? What do I have to do? I've never been needed. Celestine has always been told, ordered, and knew what needed to happen. I don't have that luxury.

"Be safe," my mother tells us as she's dragged away by my father. She watches us as she goes, studying our faces and the way we stand there, frozen in shock. When I'm ready to reach for her and follow, she turns and my father places a hand on her back to move faster.

A crack of lightning cleaves across the sky and strikes a building one street over. Debris flies into the air and I push Celestine down with a hand over my head. Someone screams. An infant wails in the distance.

Water witches are running through the streets, dulling the flame before another one sprouts to life at the hands of whatever witch is currently ruining this beautiful, innocent place. Bren. Where is Bren?

"What do we do?" I ask frantically.

"We do as father said. We need to find a hiding place," Celestine responds evenly.

Without my sister, I might crumble into a ball and rock myself—waiting for this to be over. This is the worst attack Arego, my home, has ever faced and witnessing this place I grew up in swallowed by the flames is enough to make me want to vomit.

"The community kitchens." I grab her hand and pull her in that direction but at the second I do so, the stone building housing the community kitchens two streets over shatters as lightning strikes down onto the wooden roof. Sparks fly and flames rise from the building once standing, now reduced to a stormed rubble.

That's out of the question.

Tears prick at my eyes. I don't want to do this. I don't want to be here. My parents had to leave to command the defense but I need them here, more than anything, I want them at my side.

I'm about to lose all sense of control but a familiar figure runs around a building at the same time lightning cleaves across the sky. A choked sob escapes my throat as Bren runs to us, frantically throwing glances behind his shoulder.

"Move, move, move," he orders. He pushes us in the opposite direction and into the darkness between two buildings, on the opposite side of the street of our home. I have to watch the window to my bedroom spark with fire and all of our belongings turn to ash as Bren pushes down onto my shoulder so we look like nothing more than trampled piles of trash.

None of us breathe as we wait for Bren's unforeseen threat to pass. I see it then; the witch causing all these problems. One, at least. There has to be two, one to cause the fire and the other to cause the storm overhead. They entered without warning and even my father, with his ability to hear all, couldn't stop us from being attacked. If he heard anything, it hadn't been significant.

The silhouette of the witch of fire moves through the street like a ghost with flame prickling on her fingertips. I see nothing more than the shadow of her person but that's enough to tell me there is nothing pleasant about her as she searches for anything moving, for any home not engulfed.

Celestine's wraps her hand tightly in mine and we watch her stop in the street's middle and turn. My breath holds. We don't dare to move. She looks around slowly until her head whips in the opposite direction and she throws out a hand. A scream erupts from behind one building and with tears in my eyes, I listen as the scream turns to a sob and then, a thud. Whoever it was--they're dead now. Celestine covers her mouth with a hand as the witch of fire moves on, past us, and down the street. She didn't see us, the heirs to this village.

Bren grips the back of my jacket and hoists me up with Celestine. "We have little time. From the looks of it, there are at least two witches, all with deadly power," Bren explains, his voice a rapid whisper. All I want to do is curl into his warmth and forget tonight is happening.

All I can do is grab on to his hand and never let go. Tonight may be our last night and if I let go, there's no telling if I'll experience this warmth again.

"The safest place for you, Celestine, is to run. Don't look back," Bren tells her. She immediately shakes her head.

"I'm not leaving Roux. We stay together." She grabs my hand and pulls me to her side. Who do I go with? Bren is in one hand and my sister in the other...I can't choose. I can't pick between the two of them.

Bren looks in my direction with a question in his eyes. "Take Celestine to the river, get her far enough away," I order Bren. He shakes his head and I squeeze his hand tighter. "My parents need me to defend the village and the only way I can do that is if I know you two are safe."

"I'm not leaving you, we're not to separate," Celestine objects. She tries to get in the middle of us but Bren and I won't avert our glances anywhere but each other. We're aware of the circumstances.

"That's four miles, do you think we can make it?" I wonder why Bren asks me the question when he is the one who knows the answer. Maybe, maybe not. I wouldn't know, I'm too busy trying to stop my hands from shaking.

I swallow the thick lump in my throat. "It's your only chance. They won't go there when they're too busy taking down the village." I grip his hand tighter and he understands that's his cue to listen. Shut up and obey or you'll make this worse. If I'm to do anything to protect this village, I need to know my sister and my best friend are going to survive. Without our parents to protect us from every horror, we have to protect ourselves the way they would. We don't have our mother's ability to move objects or hear an attack before it happens, but we have the ability to move the ground and create fire.

Bren moves closer and I take in as much of those blue eyes as I can. "Can you do this?" He asks quietly.

"I-I don't know. I can't...use my power and if-"

"We've already lost. If you do any damage, it's not going to matter. Trust me." Those are the words he said to me at the beginning, trust me. Trust, trust, trust. Out of all these people in the village I've considered my family, Bren is one of the few I've grown to trust with my power, with my strength. Now he's asking me to do the complete opposite by unleashing myself on the people I care about most.

Celestine turns to face me in the dark alley. "Do it. Bren will get us to the river and you'll come later with our parents. Save what's left of the village; you can do it." That hint of failure lingers in the back of her throat.

I don't want to but I will.

"We'll see each other on the other side," Bren whispers into my ear. He wraps his arms around me and with my entire body shaking, I hug him back. I do the same with Celestine but neither of them comments on my visible fear.

To avoid the tears or any doubt, I turn in the opposite direction despite my body trembling with restraint. I do what they have asked of me. With Celestine and Bren heading in the other direction, I clench my hands into fists and deal with it. They are my life, my reason, my calling. While Bren has his power, I have my family.

I check both ways for another cruel witch before stepping out. The body scorched from the inside out lies in the middle of the street, face down. Smoke billows from their clothes and from their throat. I ignore it and turn to sprint in the opposite direction before anyone notices I'm there.

The alarms bellow into the night sky, a shrill horn on the outskirts of the village that rises and falls in sharp notes. The alarm bleeds into my ears.

Whoever is risking their lives to warn us won't be breathing for much longer.

On either side of the streets, houses die in the flames. Debris, ashes, smoke, embers—it comes down onto me as I run, not thinking twice about who might see. My breathing is ragged, my neck is slick with sweat as I sprint in the direction my parents told me to go. I hope Celestine and Bren make it to the river; I hope they survive over me. His fire will protect her.

As I reach an intersection, a boulder hurtles past. I duck out of the way, slamming to the dirt as it soars over my head with a loud whoosh, strong enough to block out the alarms.

"Roux!" My mother shouts at the same time bone crunches where the boulder lands, slamming into the witch of fire. Her body is crushed behind that boulder before any flame has the chance to leave her outstretched hand.

Thunder groans overhead and shakes the ground I press against. Like veins against pale skin, lightning twists through the clouds until it's over me, starting as a splinter and then winding into a sharp blade from the clouds. The lightning cleaves through the sky the way my power cleaves through the ground. Then it strikes, directly where I lay.

My mother's cry rings out as I roll out of the way and jump on the tips of my toes to spring away from the lightning making contact with that spot of ground. I'm safe. My mother arrives seconds later and picks me up underneath my arms. "Where is your sister?" She asks frantically.

"She's with Bren, he's taking her to the river," I pant. My entire body is shaking and withering. The power wants so desperately to get out after the whisper of freedom I shared with it.

"There's a witch of storm here. We don't have a chance to save the village or the remaining people. We need to flee." She grabs my shoulders so tight I wonder if her nails are digging into my skin. I wouldn't know, my body is shaking too hard.

My father jogs from around a building, breathing ragged as he approaches us. "It's time to go." He pushes us towards the river, towards Bren and Celestine, and I breathe a sigh of relief. We'll be together. We must start somewhere new, a home for even more refugees but at least we'll be alive. Fleeing is the only chance we have.

We run through the streets together, three out of the four of us, until I hear screaming. Young screaming. Not an adult fleeing for their life but a child, screaming from the second floor of a building. On instinct, my mother stops in her tracks. I do the same as the sound increases, my eyes immediately searching.

There. On the second floor of a building, a young girl screams to anyone who might hear her. She half hangs out the window, arms flailing, as the flames rise behind her like waves.

"Stay here," I order my parents.

"It's too dangerous, we don't have time," my father calls back as I begin to walk towards the front door, shoved open from someone either entering or exiting. Flames engulf the first floor.

"Just one. I just want to save one." And without my power, I don't have to add. Likely, if I were to use my power to get this child free, she would die. It's too dangerous.

My father looks around frantically and spots a dark ally, not yet trampled with dead bodies or littered with bright flames. He pulls my mother into the dark and I rush into that burning building. The heat hits me like a slap to the face and I pull my jacket over my nose to block out the thick smoke. In the home's corner, a stone staircase leads to the second floor, where the little girl is trapped. If only I had been born with the powers of water.

Any other power than my own is a better option at this moment.

Still, I push past the roaring flames and decaying furniture and stomp up the stairs, untouched by the flame. My father, preparing for moments like this, ensured every home in the village had stone staircases. Everything else, that is not the same.

On the second floor, the flames greet me like a second wall. There's a gap though, between one door and the staircase. The little girl's screams lead me there, to the shut door untouched by those flames. My eyes burn with tears and ash as I rush towards it.

I leap through that gap and wrap my hand around the knob. It scorches my skin and I yelp back, only to grab the hot surface with the sleeve of my jacket and twist. The heat singes the fabric, but the door falls open and more flames greet me. More.

The little girl, face covered in ash and voice ragged from screaming, turns to face me. She coughs weakly and I know that if she isn't out soon, she'll die.

"Come to me!" I shout over the flames.

She looks around to the flames engulfing her bed and curtains and shakes her head. Too scared. Too young. Too frail. Out of time, I leap over the small bits of flame littering the room, turning her books and toys to ash. Where are her parents? Did they leave her here to die or have they already met their fate?

Her arms extend out to me and I wrap my own around her, both of us coughing. I turn back towards the rest of the room and take that first step out to freedom, only to find my foot breaking through the once solid surface. The girl screams as the floor caves underneath us, the frightful sound ringing through my ears. Her nails dig into the back of my neck as she clings on.

My stomach leaps into my throat as we fall with the second floor onto the first. I clutch onto the back of the girl's head and press her tight against me as with the debris; we fall until I'm sliding down one of the stuck beams, only feet from the floor.

If it were otherwise, we might be dead.

Before another beam has the chance to crush us, I run. The flames aren't the problem anymore as the house crashes down around us. The smoke burns my throat and the embers itch at my skin but I don't care. If I can save one life tonight, then I've done my part, and that's all that matters. This girl will be alive because of me.

The front door is wide open, hanging off the bottom hinges, and I burst through it as another beam crashes down, where I stepped seconds ago. The cold air fills my lungs and we breathe it in, sucking down what we can before the rest of the smoke drags us away.

My parents rush from the alley, tears in their eyes as they survey our conditions. "We're fine," I pant. "We're fine." With threat looming over our heads, I somehow manage a smile.

The horns have stopped, but the storm hasn't. Dark clouds swirl and the wind rips through my clothes and becomes a second skin. The power beckons to me, calling me closer, and I ignore it.

My mother kisses my forehead, the last warm thing I feel, before the little girl in my arms screams a warning. We whirl to see the threat standing down the street. My blood runs cold as I come face to face with the force of the storm swirling overhead. The witch of storm. And he has the audacity to grin at my dread.

"The cliffsides," my father whispers.

The man stands there like the night and I am frozen in my boots at the sight of his glistening dark hair, his towering frame and warrior's body. He is the storm. The wind yanks and tugs at the black cloak draped over his shoulders and my eyes, filled with tears from the smoke; drift to the royal seal over his heart. A choked gasp escapes my throat as I realize this isn't just a witch of storm; I'm staring at the prince of Esaria.