Chapter 19: The Descent

The heavy iron doors of the Great Hall didn’t just close; they groaned under the weight of the mountain as the first tremor of the Legion’s siege hammered against the stone. 

Mira didn’t look back. She couldn’t. If she saw Elara standing there, her chin high and her hands already sparking with the violet-gold kinetic energy that marked her as the academy’s brightest hope, Mira’s resolve would shatter. The students were the shield, but she and Dorian were the dagger.

"The resonance is coming from the foundations," Dorian said, his voice a jagged blade of ice cutting through the roar of the collapsing masonry. He shoved a heavy tapestry aside, revealing the hidden spiral of the Shadow Stair. "If the Iron Legion ruptures the core, the mountain won’t just fall. It will vaporize."

Mira pressed her palm against the damp stone of the corridor. The heat she felt wasn’t the comforting thrum of her own fire; it was a sick, pulsing vibration, like the heartbeat of a dying god. "The seal is failing because we aren't there to hold it. Iron doesn't just want the school, Dorian. They want the Starfall essence."

"They won't have it." Dorian stepped into the dark, his hand find hers in the gloom. He didn't grab it—he simply anchored her. His skin was preternaturally cool, a sharp contrast to the blistering air rising from the depths. "Stay close. The stairs haven't been reinforced since the Third Epoch."

They descended. 

The air grew thick with the smell of scorched ozone and ancient dust. Every dozen steps, the mountain shiddered, sending a rain of grit onto Mira’s shoulders. Above them, the muffled thud of Leo’s earth-magic and Elara’s kinetic blasts signaled the start of the massacre. Mira clutched her staff, the wood singing against her palm. She wanted to turn back. She wanted to stand in the courtyard and burn every intruder until only ash remained.

"Focus, Mira," Dorian commanded, sensing the flicker of her mana. "They are holding the line so we can save the world. Do not insult their sacrifice by wavering now."

"I'm not wavering," she snapped, though her fingers trembled. "I'm calculating how many ways I'm going to kill General Vane once we finish this."

"Save some for me."

The stairs gave way to a narrow catwalk spanning a natural chasm. Far below, a river of raw, liquefied magic flowed through the mountain's veins—the Starfall Accord in its physical form. It glowed with a terrifying, sickly white light. 

A massive tremor—stronger than the rest—ripped through the cavern. The stone beneath Mira’s feet didn't just shake; it vanished.

The catwalk shrieked as its anchors tore from the wall. Mira’s stomach lurched into her throat. She felt the sudden, violent rush of air as she tipped backward into the abyss. Her staff clattered against the rock, spinning away into the white void below.

"Mira!"

She reached out, her fingers clawing at the empty, smoke-filled air. In that split second, she didn't see her life flash before her eyes; she saw Dorian's face in the library three months ago, the way he’d looked at her when they first admitted the merger was inevitable. The way his eyes softened when he thought she wasn't looking.

A hand clamped around her wrist like a vice of frozen steel.

The jerk nearly dislocated her shoulder, but the fall stopped. Mira dangled over the white-hot river of essence, her boots kicking uselessly at the air. She looked up. Dorian was prone on the remaining section of the ledge, his arm strained to the limit, his face a mask of primal desperation.

"Don't let go," she wheezed, the heat from below searing her lungs.

"Never," Dorian hissed through gritted teeth. His other hand slammed into the stone, his frost-magic blooming outward to bridge the gap between his chest and the crumbling rock, literally freezing himself to the mountain to keep from being dragged down by her weight. "I have you."

He didn't pull her up immediately. He couldn't. He was breathing hard, the blue veins in his neck standing out in stark relief. For a long moment, they simply hung there—the fire queen and the ice king, suspended between a collapsing past and a non-existent future. 

Mira looked into his eyes. The rivalry was gone. The academic coldness, the professional distance, the years of bickering over curricula and boundary lines—it had burned away. 

"I trust you," she whispered, the words carrying more weight than the gravity pulling at her limbs.

Dorian’s expression shifted, a flash of something raw and shattered breaking through his composure. With a guttural roar, he heaved. He didn't just lift her; he launched her upward, his muscles bunching with a strength born of pure terror. 

Mira scrambled onto the solid ledge, gasping for air that didn't feel like liquid lead. Dorian rolled over beside her, his chest heaving, his hand still reaching out as if to ensure she was solid. 

She didn't hesitate. She lunged forward, grabbing his tunic and pulling him toward her. Their foreheads crashed together. He smelled of winter and desperation.

"If you ever do that again," she breathed against his lips.

"I intend to keep you exactly where I can see you from now on," he replied, his voice a low, vibrating growl. He hooked a hand behind her neck, pulling her into a kiss that tasted of soot and salvation. It wasn't soft; it was a claim. A promise that if the mountain fell, they would go down together.

He pulled back just an inch, his eyes scanning hers. "Are you hurt?"

Mira stood, her legs shaky but her magic roaring back to life, fueled by the adrenaline of the near-death. "I'm furious. Which is better."

She looked down at the chasm. The river of essence was surging, white crests of power splashing against the walls. At the far end of the chamber, beneath the Great Seal, a shadow moved—the armored silhouette of an Iron Legion sapper setting the final charges.

Dorian stood beside her, his hands beginning to mist with a cold so intense the air around them began to crystallize into jagged shards. 

"The students are holding the door, Dorian," Mira said, her voice dropping into the calm, lethal register of a Chancellor of Fire. "Let’s show the Legion why we were the ones who built it."

They stepped off the ledge together, drifting down on a platform of frozen flame toward the final stand.

The sapper looked up, his face pale behind his visor, just as Dorian’s ice spiked through the floor and Mira’s fire turned the shadows into a furnace.

"We have a problem," Dorian noted, staring past the soldier at the glowing mechanism of the seal. 

The clockwork was glowing red, the ancient gears grinding against a wedge of black iron that shouldn't have been there. It wasn't just a demolition; it was a corruption. 

"It’s not a bomb," Mira realized, her heart sinking as the floor beneath them groaned. "It’s a siphon."