Time passed differently in Technopolis.
For Levi, it moved slowly—measured in pulses of runes and the steady hum of machines. The healing array around her wings glowed brighter each day, weaving witchcraft and technology together with careful precision. Her wounds closed, though scars remained, dark and permanent. Demon flesh healed, but memory did not.
Still, she grew stronger.
She could stand now. Walk without staggering. Her hair stayed black more often, and her eyes held their gold instead of slipping into red. Her wings, though damaged, no longer trembled constantly. The Queen of Demons was returning to herself.
Jane, however, was not.
She felt it first as restlessness.
A heat beneath her skin that never fully faded. Magic no longer flowed gently when she cast even the smallest spell—it surged, sharp and impatient. Sometimes her veins shimmered faint purple without warning. Sometimes her reflection looked wrong, her eyes catching the light at strange angles.
Mira noticed.
Jane would sit too still for too long, staring at nothing. Ryn noticed the way the air crackled when she walked past, static snapping softly. Lena caught the faint smell of ozone whenever Jane passed through the halls. Harrow, ever silent, simply watched her more closely than before.
None of them said anything.
They had all seen what Shax had done to her.
That night, Jane isolated herself in one of the outer corridors, pretending to recalibrate equipment she had already fixed twice. Her hands shook as she adjusted a console, heat pooling in her palms.
Not now, she thought. Please—not now.
Behind her, Levi felt it.
The familiar pull—sharp, erratic, unstable.
She stopped mid-step, her breath catching. Jane's aura flared like a fractured flame, spiking and collapsing in uneven waves. Levi turned without hesitation and followed it.
She found Jane alone.
"Jane," Levi said gently.
Jane flinched hard, spinning around. "I'm fine—!"
The words died in her throat.
Her vision blurred. Pain lanced through her spine, sudden and violent. She gasped, clutching at the console as her knees buckled. Purple light surged through her veins, brighter than ever before.
"Jane!" Levi rushed forward.
Jane cried out as her magic detonated outward. The lights flickered violently. Metal groaned. The floor cracked beneath her feet.
"I can't—stop it!" Jane sobbed. "It's burning—!"
Her body arched as something shifted. Not fully—not yet—but enough. Her eyes flared brighter, pupils narrowing. A pressure built behind her shoulders, phantom weight straining as if something tried to tear free.
Levi grabbed her, wrapping her arms around Jane's shaking form despite the heat pouring off her.
"Look at me," Levi commanded, voice firm but trembling. "Jane. Look at me."
Jane's breath came in ragged bursts. "I'm scared," she whispered. "I don't want to hurt anyone."
"You won't," Levi said immediately. "You're not alone."
She pressed her forehead to Jane's, grounding her with presence rather than power. Levi let her own aura expand—not aggressive, not commanding, but steady. A queen's calm in the midst of chaos.
Slowly—painfully—the surge eased.
Jane collapsed against Levi, exhausted, shaking, but still herself.
Mira, Ryn, Lena, and Harrow stood frozen at the end of the corridor, having felt the tremor ripple through the hideout. None of them spoke. They didn't need to.
Levi looked up at them, eyes sharp and protective.
"This will happen again," Levi said quietly. "And next time may be worse."
Jane swallowed hard. "I don't want to be a weapon."
Levi tightened her hold around her.
"Then we make sure you're not," she said. "We learn. We prepare. And if the dragon within you tries to claim you—"
Her voice hardened.
"—it will answer to me."
Jane closed her eyes, leaning fully into Levi's embrace.
Outside, Technopolis glowed on, unaware that something ancient had begun to awaken within its walls.
And somewhere far away, destiny shifted—ever so slightly—toward fire.
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