Kenric sat on the edge of the empty bed beside Blaise's in the infirmary, his chin resting on his clasped hands. He watched Blaise closely and the young man tossed and turned, moaning in pain. Every once in a while, he would stop and relax, as though something had relieved his pain, but it never lasted very long.

What was it that plagued Blaise's unconscious mind? Kenric had lost count of how many times he'd tried to get inside, never successfully. He would find himself either shut out by Prince Zane, or their collective thoughts and emotions would simply be too much for Kenric to handle. He was forced to retract or risk destroying his own mind.

***

Blaise snatched a small boy by the arm, and pulled him to safety, away from the edge of the steep slope that held up their path. The child's mother grabbed him, hugging him tightly in her arms. It gave Blaise a pang of sadness in his chest. He wished he still had his own mother to hold him like that.

"Thank you, Prince Zane!"

Prince Zane? He wasn't the Dragon Prince. Was he dreaming? Was that what happened when two souls shared a body? Or was it a memory?

"Let's keep moving."

Blaise's voice wasn't his own—it was Zane's. For once, though, it wasn't loud or demanding, and no pain came from it. It was quiet and weak, almost defeated, and there was a chill of fear that hung in the air around him.

Blaise didn't like having no control over his body, but he wondered if that was how Zane felt, stuck inside a body that wasn't his own.

The road to Senin was treacherous, but it was the safest way out of Draconia. If they wanted to avoid being Cleansed, the Dragons had to flee their kingdom.

The large group moved in silence, and Zane could feel all of their eyes on the back of his head as he led them over the rocky terrain.

He felt like a failure. How could so much have gone wrong? Then Enforcers had invaded so quickly, coming all the way from Cadmus. It was all too terrible to comprehend, and the more he thought about it, it became all too clear to Zane that Agni had been planning the Cleansing long before King Anguis had died. All he needed was a catalyst... the murder of Anguis.

A terrible shriek echoed through the mountains, and the entire procession stopped in its tracks. Zane turned around, looking back in the direction of Draconia, listening to the death cry of a Dragon. Every Dragon was unique, and their cries were one of many ways to tell each other apart. No one could have mistaken the distinctive sound of Queen Maeve.

Zane felt everything fall out from under him as he listened to his mother's cry, and the painful silence that followed after. He couldn't breathe, and his heart felt as though it were being crushed in someone's fist.

He'd left her on her own... He had left her there to die. Now, he had nothing. Just a refugee. No family, no kingdom... no hope.

Multiple people reached out to help him as his knees buckled, but all the hands in the world couldn't have pulled him up out of that darkness.

***

"I failed her," Blaise muttered in his sleep, and a tear ran down his cheek. Kenric raise an eyebrow. Who was he talking about?

Kenric's fingertips glowed as he ran them across Blaise's forehead, trying to bring down his fever. He eyed the scar on his chest too. What exactly had Blaise been through before they brought him to Draconia?

***

Blaise tossed and turned, his back stiff and sore, but no relief would come. He finally gave up on sleep and sat up, finding himself on a small cot in an unfamiliar room.

"I see you've finally rejoined the mortal world, Prince Zane," a small old woman said as she rang the water out of a cloth, then wiped his face with it. "I thought for sure that the Underworld was ready to sweep you away."

Prince Zane again? How could he still be stuck inside Zane's memories? Why couldn't he just wake up?

Zane didn't say anything to the woman—he stared down at his hands, replaying everything that had happened, over and over in his head. The castle had been invaded, and he had taken what was left of the Draconian people, leading them to Senin while his mother...

"My mother..." Zane was speaking more to himself than to the old woman. How could he have just left her there? Why did he listen to her? Why did she let him leave? He knew he had his duty to the people of Draconia, but what about his duty to her? He was torn between being angry with his mother and being angry with himself. Someone had to take the blame, didn't they? He finally settled on taking it himself. "I failed her."

The old woman hushed him, pressing the cool, damp cloth to his cheek. Her face was soft and kind, like his mother's, and it was more than he could bear. He turned away from her and covered his face, not wanting her to see him in tears. His chest shuddered and his shoulders shook with the sobs he tried to hold back.

"What happened to the queen is not your fault," she said, placing a reassuring hand on his back, "and our king is happy to help your people."

"Just stay away from me!" he shouted, jumping up from the bed.

In a fit of rage and despair, Zane knocked everything off the bedside table. A clay bowl shattered at his feet, splashing the cool water all over the dark stone floor. He kicked the remained of the pottery away as he stormed out of the room.

He stalked through the halls of Senin, filled with desperation, looking for an escape. He couldn't breathe, and being deep in the mountain kingdom wasn't helping. Zane was a Dragon—he needed the sky and the open air.

A few of the Draconian refugees who crossed his path tried to stop and talk to him, but Zane didn't stop to acknowledge his people. He had to get out. Now. The longer he looked for an escape route, the worse he felt. His breathing was quick and raspy, his chest tight, and splotches of bright colors started to invade his vision while darkness crept into the edges.

He wasn't sure when he stopped or when he fell, but he suddenly found that everything was sideways. Draconians and Senians alike rushed to where he lay on the cold stone floor as his vision faded to black.

***

"How is he?" Phoenyx asked, approaching Kenric tentatively. She didn't know if he was still angry with them for interrupting their Occultus Draocnem meeting. When all he did was shrug, his gaze fixed on Blaise, she sat down beside him. "That bad, huh?"

"I don't know what else to do," he said, watching Blaise's chest shudder with every labored breath. "He has a fever, but he's not ill. He's suffering, but he isn't injured. How do you help someone when you don't know what's wrong?"

"Can't you just read his mind and find out?"

"If only," Kenric said with a soft laugh. "No. This is one mind that I can't seem to get a hold of. There's just too much going on in there... Too many thoughts, mixed up memories... It's a disaster. Two souls are not meant to share one body, and it makes Blaise's mind nearly impossible to penetrate, especially when Prince Zane is trying to keep me out."

"It must be tough for him..."

"I should have seen it," he said, a dark serious look in his eyes. "Talking to himself all the time... refusing to admit that he was a Dragon, even though we'd already seen him start to transform before... I don't know what happened to him, but somehow, Blaise was used to create some sort of Human-Dragon hybrid. I can't even begin to imagine what kind of pain he's in every single day. Dragon blood is like poison to Humans."

***

Zane, disguised in a mask and cloak, slowly made his way back across the treacherous path through Senin, into Draconia. This time, he was alone. It had been almost two years since the start of the Cleansing, and he was sure to find Draconia overrun by the Cadmian Army. Still, he had to go back.

Blaise couldn't believe that he was still stuck in Zane's memory. He wanted out—he couldn't stand the lack of control.

Zane looked up at the sky, taking slow, deep breaths through his nose. He wished more than anything to be able to change back into a Dragon. He wanted to fill his lungs with the sky, and feel the clouds against his outstretched wings.

That was nothing more than a dream, though. The Enforcers were still on the prowl for surviving Draconians, and Zane would be dead before he could even get off the ground.

Still, he longed for it. Maybe a few moments touching the sky would be worth it. Then, he could be with his mother...

His attention too fixed on the sky above him, Zane lost his footing on the ground below him. He went tumbling down the embankment. He managed to grab onto a small tree to stop himself from falling farther off the edge, and he let out a long, shaky breath. The last thing he needed was to die in a ditch, alone in the mountains.

Zane reentered Castle Draconia the same way he had fled, through the kitchen and the servants' quarters. The entrance had been boarded up, but the old wooden planks were easily torn down.

He moved quickly and silently through the halls, making his way to the throne room. He expected to find Agni there, his filthy, traitorous body dirtying Queen Maeve's throne. The thought of it made him sick to his stomach, but he was surprised to find the throne room empty.

"This can't be right," he whispered to himself. Where was Agni? Where were the Enforcers? His eyes darted all over the room, expecting them to jump out at any moment to take his life. But Zane was alone.

When no one came, Zane adjusted his mask, elaborately carved by the old Senian woman who had taken him in, and he moved out to the corridor. He closed the door quietly behind him, inhaling a sharp breath when he heard footsteps behind him.

"Hey, man. What the hell do ya think yer doin'?"

Zane's whole body tensed, afraid of who may have caught him. A chill ran down his spine when someone tapped him on his shoulder.

"What's the matter? Are ya deaf?"

Zane was paralyzed with fear, unable to will himself to move or speak, and sweat ran down the side of his face. He had been caught, and that meant he was going to suffer the same terrible fate as his mother and many of his people.

Taking slow, deep breaths, he finally managed to turn himself around to face the man.

Blaise recognized him immediately—it was Theron. He was younger, but still very much the same. Zane didn't know who he was at the time, though.

"You ain't go no voice or somethin'?" Theron asked.

"Sorry," Zane said, clearing his throat as the shock wore off. This man wasn't a soldier from Cadmus, nor was he an Enforcer. He was Draconian. "I was just—"

"You ain't allowed in the throne room," he told him, nudging Zane away from the door. "No one is. Ain't nobody allowed in there 'til we got our kingdom back. Ken's orders."

"Ken?"

Blaise wondered how long Kenric and Theron had been living in Draconia. They couldn't have been any older than Zane, and yet, they were strong leaders, ready to take on King Agni.

"You must be a new refugee, huh? Kenric Helmuth's the general o' the Draconian Army. What's left of it, at least. He's takin' Prince Zane's place 'til we find him and get him back on the throne."

"And what will keep Agni from returning with his Enforcers if that happens?"

"We got spells and stuff 'round the castle," Theron explained, gesturing for Zane to follow him. Most of the castle was still in ruin, and it made Zane's heart heavy. He could vividly recall where Draconians' bodies had been, strewn across the floors. "Anyone passin' by ain't gonna see nothin' but an old ruined castle. By the time they got any closer, there would be an army o' Draconem on 'em."

"Draconem?"

"Man, ya don't know nothin', do ya?"

Theron shook his head with disdain as he and Zane headed down the grand staircase and out of the castle. In the town just outside, there were small groups of people who had moved into the ruined city.

Guilt stung Zane's heart to think that these fifty or so people were all that was left of his once mighty kingdom, aside from the group he had led to Senin. How could Agni be so ruthless, to attempt to wipe out an entire race of people?

"The Occultus Draconem is a rebellion," Theron said, leaning against the stone wall of the castle. "Kenric and I been gatherin' some guys, ones who was soldiers here before, like us, and we been trainin' new ones. We go in and out o' Cadmus too, when we can, doin' our best to save what's left of us. We're protectin' innocent people from the Enforcers, Dragon or not."

"Why focus on the Enforcers?" Zane asked, flexing his fingers. He hadn't realized how tightly his fists were clenched. "What about Agni? He's the one who started this! What's being done about him?"

"Calm down, man." Theron placed a strong hand on Zane's shoulder. "We ain't got the strength or numbers to be engagin' in a full out war with Cadmus. We all know the Dragons ain't the ones who killed Anguis, but there ain't much we can do 'bout it when most of us been wiped out."

"So, we just sit here and do nothing, hiding in ruins, while Agni gets more and more powerful each day? Do you think he'll stop with just the destruction of the Dragons? What about the Elves or the Fairies... the Vampires or the Werewolves? Obviously there was a plan before Anguis was killed! How else could it all have happened so quickly? And we're just letting him get away with it!"

***

"You gotta get some rest, Ken," Theron said, sitting beside his friend and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Ain't gonna do no one no good if you ain't takin' care o' yaself."

"How am I supposed to rest?" Kenric let out a noisy sigh, reaching over to press his thumb against the side of Blaise's neck. Blaise's heart was pounding hard and fast, his chest heaving with labored breaths. "This kid is going to die, Theron."

"Don't start talkin' like that, Ken."

"What else am I supposed to think? There's no way he can survive this, is there? Draconian blood is poison to Humans."

"Well, he ain't dead yet. The Enforcers' poison ain't done nothin' to him, maybe Dragon blood won't do nothin'. Stop worryin' yaself so much."

"I'll stop worrying when he wakes up."

***

"Forgive me, Prince Zane," one of his men of the Royal Guard said, bowing to him with his fist over his heart, "but have you lost your damn mind?"

"It's been three years. I can't hide in Senin for the rest of my life," Zane told him. He sat on the edge of the bed to lace up his boots.

Being trapped in Zane's body, three years worth of memories had passed. Three years with no control over what he said or did, and it was taking a toll on Blaise. He prayed every day that he would wake up from it. He wanted his own life back. How much time had really passed? Hopefully not three years.

"I'm going to Cadmus," Zane said, gathering his cloak and mask. "Tonight."

"What do you expect to do in Cadmus? Why didn't you ask for help from the soldiers in Draconia? You can't take on Agni by yourself. Not with an army of Enforcers at his back!"

"No, but I have an idea."

"And if you don't come back?" The young soldier grabbed Zane by the arm, his eyes full of despair. "You can't do this! What about your people? You belong here, with them!"

"If I don't return..." Zane tapped his foot, trying to formulate a plan. What were they going to do? "If I don't come back, lead them back to Draconia."

"Now I know you've lost your head." The soldier threw his hands up, shaking his head in disbelief. "Do you really think they'll be safe there? Just because a few rebels are guarding a ruined castle, that doesn't mean—"

"Do you not trust me?" Zane snapped, anger filling his chest. "Do you have a better idea that doesn't involve cowering in Senin forever, never getting your home back? Do you want to die nothing more than a refugee? I don't!"

Seeing the hurt in his soldier's eyes, Zane felt a pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach. He let out a heavy sigh before he wrapped his cloak around his shoulders and tied his mask around his head.

"I'm sorry, but I have to do this. You may not understand it right now, but it's for the good of Draconia."

He had to spend a great deal of money, but Zane managed to find someone willing to take him to Cadmus. It would have been two weeks on foot from Senin, and that was if he never stopped to rest.

He didn't know what would happen when he got there. So, he just closed his eyes to rest, reserving his energy for whatever might be waiting for him in Cadmus. It was impossible for him to sleep, though, and his heart pounded wildly in his chest.

Even trapped in what he could only hope was just a dream, Blaise could still feel the searing pain in his chest that Zane's heart caused him. When was he going to wake up?

***

"Isn't there anything you can give him for the pain?" Phoenyx asked, watching Blaise writhe on the bed as he slept. He'd had the same pained grimace on his face for the past two weeks, and he still hadn't woken.

"We've been giving him liquefied healing magic," Kenric told her. He stretched him arms over his head and let out a tired groan. He was exhausted, but he couldn't afford to rest—he had to watch over Blaise. "I've given him as much as I can, but Draíocht is dangerous. He could become addicted, his body dependent on it, and that would only make things worse."

"Do you think he's going to be okay?"

Kenric rubbed his cheek and glanced over at Phoenyx. Her eyes were wide and teary, and the fear that radiated from her mind was so overwhelming that he had to block her out. Was Blaise going to be all right? After two weeks with no improvement, Kenric wasn't so sure.

"He'll be fine," Kenric lied. He felt terrible for giving her a false sense of hope, but he knew it was the right thing to do. There was no sense in getting everyone else worked up—he could carry the burden on his own.

***

Zane shivered, pulling his cloak tightly around himself as the chill of winter crept into the carriage. He pulled back the curtain and looked out to see a great stone wall that stretched far beyond his sight, covered in snow. That wall hadn't been there a few years earlier—Agni had shut Cadmus off from the rest of the continent.

"State your business," a voice called from somewhere outside. Zane closed the curtain, praying that it wasn't an Enforcer. They were known to kill almost anyone they encountered, Dragon or not. "Why have you come through Draconia?"

"Beggin' ya pardon, sir," the coachman said, his voice full of false politeness. "I be comin' down from Senin, you see. Ain't no better way than through the Dragonlands, ya know? To go 'round them moutains and through Anzino woulda taken me an extra week, see? And Urbem Mortis ain't no—"

"I asked why you came through Draconia, not for your life story," the guard said with a tone of annoyance. The crunch of his boots in the snow faded away, and the large metal gates of Cadmus opened to allow the carriage through. Zane's chest lightened, and he let out a sigh of relief.

The driver left him off in the Industrial District, and Zane was shocked to see it in such a state of ruin.

Blaise wasn't surprised at all, though. In fact, it look much cleaner than he recalled, even with the snow turned grey by dust and soot.

Zane did his best to keep to the shadows. There was hardly anyone out on the street anyway. The only people outside were the ragged and homeless, huddles around fires they'd built in large metal canisters to keep warm.

He was filled with pity when he saw the children, covered in thick layers of filth, squeezing in to get their share of the warmth.

Blaise would have shaken his head in disdain if he could. It was a common sight for him as a child. No one in Cadmus had ever really cared about the orphans on the street. No one except Daemon.

He wondered where Zane was headed. Why hadn't he stayed in Draconia with the rebels, rebuilding their lives and preparing to fight to take back their kingdom? He hadn't even told Theron who he really was. What business could he have in Cadmus that was more important?

Blaise stopped wondering when Zane stopped in the middle of Cadmus Square, looking up at the abandoned military hospital.

Blaise begged and pleaded, to no avail of course—he was in a memory—for Zane to stop. He couldn't live that nightmare over again.

Still, he was forced to advance, Zane's footsteps echoing as he descended into the dungeon. It was empty, but Blaise could vividly remember the orphans in the cells, their discarded bodies being eaten away by rats and maggots. He wanted to close his eyes and run far away.

Zane went through the exit at the far end of the dungeon, which opened up to a long, dark corridor. The first door had a frosted glass window, and there was a dim light inside. He took a deep breath, then rapped on the window.

"It's open," a voice called out.

Blaise was forced to enter, but all of his fear was replaced with rage when Zane approached the man who sat at the desk.

"It's been a long time, Aaron," he said to the young surgeon, who eyed Zane up and down with a curious expression.

"Do I know you?"

"I would certainly hope so, Doctor Davis." Zane took his mask off, tucking it away in a pocket of his cloak.

Aaron's mouth fell open, staring wide-eyed at the Dragon Prince. He quickly regained his composure, and placed his fist over his heart.

"Prince Zane, I can't believe it's you!" he sputtered with excitement. "You're alive! Everyone thought you were killed when the Enforcers—"

"I need your help," Zane interrupted. He didn't want the conversation to turn to the subject of his mother's murder.

Aaron sighed, neatening the stack of papers on his desk.

"What could I do for you? Being an old ally of Draconia, I don't hold any merit here in Cadmus anymore. The king cut off all funding for my work, and if he knew you were here, I'd probably lose my head."

"Humans seem to have a greater knack for science and medicine, while Dragons have come to rely on magic. So, I've come to ask for your help. Don't worry about your funding," Zane told him, tossing a satchel of gold pieces onto the desk. "I want you to make me Human."

***

Blaise had finally stopped talking and moaning in his sleep, but he still appeared to be suffering a great deal of pain. Tracing her finger down the scar on his chest, a nurse administered as much healing magic as she could allow. A small sigh escaped the young man's lips, his muscles relaxing. It had been that way for weeks, and if they weren't careful, they feared he might become addicted to the Draíocht.

Kenric was slumped over in a chair next to Blaise's bed. Despite everyone's concern, he hadn't been sleeping. As he slowly dozed off, his body lurched forward, jolting him awake with a gasp. He shifted, his spine cracking, and rubbed his tired eyes.

"Why are you doing this to yourself, Lord Kenric?" the nurse asked, looking over him with concern. He had dark circles under his eyes, his hair was a mess, and he was growing a beard. "You can't go on like this. You have to get some rest."

"I'm fine," he said quietly, running a hand through his unruly hair. He and the nurse both jumped when Theron's loud voice filled the room.

"You ain't fine, and we all know it." He was leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed, deep frown lines on his face. "I ain't never seen you like this, Ken. Yer killin' yaself over this kid."

"He doesn't have anyone. Don't you remember what that was like?"

"Yeah, I do, man. But this ain't back then, and you ain't the only one that cares 'bout what happens to him."

***

"Zane, are you sure about this?"

Aaron stood as the sink, scrubbing his hands clean, while Zane sat on the edge of the operating table, shirtless.

Blaise was overwhelmed with fear, and he still couldn't wake up from his nightmare. The longer he was forced to sit there, the worse it became.

"I'm positive," Zane said with a nod. "It's been over a year. You must have found a host body by now."

"It's not as simple as you might think, Zane," Aaron replied, letting out a long sigh as he dried his hands. "People have died for this. Yes, we've found you a body, but it came at a very high price. This kid... He's—"

"I don't want to know the details," Zane interrupted, putting his hands up. "Whatever the cost, I just want the job done."

It infuriated Blaise to see that Zane had no idea what he'd been put through. And worse, he didn't even care to know. Didn't he understand how many orphans had died at Aaron's hands because of him? How much pain had Blaise been forced to endure, just for Zane to get what he wanted? How could he be so willfully ignorant to what he had done?

"The containment chamber is ready," a voice said from behind Zane. He turned see Aaron's partner, Mason, standing in the doorway with the healing mage that would be overlooking the procedure.

"As long as the heart is functional, he'll be fine," Saloma said, clutching her spellbook in her thin, delicate hands. "The Human's should suffice for now, and the body will survive on it's own with the aid of the Draíocht."

"Perfect," Aaron said, moving to Zane's side.

Blaise wanted to fight. He wanted to scream and kick and punch, but Zane just sat there calmly. There was a small flutter of fear, but nothing even close to what Blaise felt.

"Before we do this, talk me through it one more time," Zane requested, and Aaron pulled up a stool.

"We're going to replace the host's heart and stomach with your own," Aaron explained, tapping his fingers on the table beside where Zane sat. It held a small metal tray of surgical tools. "The heart and stomach are the main sources of Draconian power. The heart allows you to produce magic, and pump it through your body wherever it needs to manifest. For example, if you are injured, it will flood healing magic to the site. Or, if you want to use your fire-based powers, it will pump the magic down through your arms to your hands. The healing capabilities, in particular, will be crucial to ensure the survival of the host body. The transfer will be difficult, so we'll do that after we transplant the stomach."

"And why is my stomach important?"

"That's where your Dragonfire comes from. The lining of the stomach produces acid, which is changed into a flammable gas as it travels up the esophagus. During this process, at the entrance to your stomach, also known as the esophageal sphincter, there are hard scales that line it. Those scales grind against each other and create sparks, which light the gas as it exits. Your throat is coated with a special substance produced by your body to protect you from the flames, but Humans don't have it. It's going to hurt when you use your Dragonfire. A lot. So, use it sparingly, but your healing magic should take care of any injury it may cause."

"All right." Zane closed his eyes, then let out a long, shaky breath. "I'm ready."

Blaise wasn't ready, though. He had to wake up. He couldn't go through that pain and suffering again, lying on that table. He tried to will himself out of Zane's mind and body. Let Zane be the one who was trapped—he chose that life for himself. Blaise was forced into it, unwillingly.

"Now, you're positive that this is what you really want to do, Zane?" Aaron asked as he stood, lifting a scalpel in his left hand. Zane nodded, swallowing his fear. "This is your last chance to change your mind."

"Just do it."

When the knife pierced his skin, Blaise couldn't tell if it was him or Zane screaming.

***

"Holy gods!" Theron jumped up when Blaise started screaming and thrashing on the bed, clawing at his torso. Kenric jolted awake, and Phoenyx nearly fell out of her chair.

As Blaise writhed on the bed, trying to escape some unseen force, bursts of flames shout out of his hands in every direction. It set fire to beds and curtains, and he continued to claw at the scar on his chest, covering himself in his own blood.

Theron and Kenric rushed to put out the fires, and Phoenyx stood, paralyzed. Her large blue eyes were fixed on Blaise.

She closed her eyes, breathing in and out, slowing her own heartbeat. She could feel her magic flowing through her veins like swift, cool ocean currents, and it flooded her body with an icy sensation.

When she opened her eyes, she gasped. Her entire body had a shimmering blue look to it, like her skin was made of ice. One of Blaise's flames struck her arm, but it sizzled out as soon as it made contact. Seeing that his magic couldn't hurt her, she approached his bedside.

He continued to scream and thrash as she sat beside him, and it took her a few tried to get a firm grip on both his wrists. Even with her icy magic, his skin felt like fire in her hands, and it made a loud hissing noise, steam rising from where her skin touched his.

She took another deep breath to gather her courage, then tightened her grip on Blaise before yanking him forward into an upright position, and she threw her arms around him. She gritted her teeth against the burning sensation of his skin against hers and held him firm.

"Blaise, wake up!"

Blaise's eyes shot open as he gasped, trying to catch his breath. His entire body shook, and the pain that wracked his body faded, replaced by a cool, calm sensation. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the sight of the flames while his companions desperately tried to extinguish them.

A faint aroma of vanilla filled his nose... a familiar scent. It was one he recalled from countless training sessions with the Occultus Draconem.

"Nixie?"

Phoenyx didn't say anything—she held him tightly, her powerful ice magic numbing his whole body.

As his pain almost completely disappeared, Blaise couldn't hold back a sob of relief. He had forgotten what it felt like to live without being in constant pain. A powerful silence fell over the room as the last of the fires were put out, and everyone stood around Blaise while he cried against Phoenyx's shoulder, thankful that his nightmares were over.