Cyrus wakes with a gasp.

His lungs are full of knives. His veins, full of fire.

He blinks, disoriented, the world shifting into focus like a dream slamming into reality. His body feels different, heavier and lighter all at once, like something has been taken and something has been given, and he does not yet know whether it was a fair trade.

And then—

Alizeh.

She is standing before him.

His breath catches. His vision darkens at the edges. He feels a rage so potent he nearly chokes on it, a sorrow so deep it might swallow him whole.

Because she is here. She is here.

And he doesn’t know if he wants to worship her or destroy her.