Chapter Twenty-One: The Boiling Point

The DNHA was coming.

Tara could hear their boots hitting the pavement, the low hum of their dampener tech buzzing in the air like angry wasps.

But something was wrong.

She could still feel her power beneath her skin.

It was muted, like it had been wrapped in a layer of gauze, but it was there—thrumming, pulsing, alive.

She shouldn't be able to feel anything under their tech.

The realization sent a shudder through her bones.

They don't know.

The DNHA didn't know that their dampeners weren't strong enough for her.

She could still fight.

She could still win.

Seamus turned to her, his expression unreadable. "You feel it, don't you?"

Tara swallowed hard.

Skye's black-glimmering eyes burned into hers.

"Think of this as a kettle boiling over or ripping off a seal," he said. "It needs to be done to let out some pressure. Now's the time."

Tara's pulse thundered.

She had never pushed herself past the edge before.

Even with Skye's training, they had stayed within her limits, careful not to attract attention.

But here they were.

And every gun, every blade, every shadow hunting them—was aimed at her.

Tara exhaled, feeling the shift beneath her skin.

"Stand back."

Landon's breath hitched. "Tara—"

She didn't give him time to protest.

She let go.

⸻

The DNHA had barely breached the ruins when the air exploded.

A gust of wind howled through the temple, knocking the first wave of officers off their feet.

The dim twilight flickered, shadows stretching unnaturally as a black storm of wings erupted from Tara's back.

A hundred crows—no. More than that.

The sky darkened, the swarm pouring out of her like living smoke.

The DNHA hesitated.

Then someone shouted—

"OPEN FIRE!"

Tara moved.

Bullets tore through the air, but they never reached her.

She was already shifting, her body contorting, twisting—too fast, too fluid, too unnatural.

One second she was flesh, the next she was feathers and talons, her bones snapping and reforming in an instant.

She hit the first officer at full speed, tearing into him with hooked claws.

His scream was cut off—his throat spilling open in a red, wet mess.

The others barely had time to react before she was gone again, shifting back into her human form mid-air.

A sharp crack—lightning burst from her fingertips, snapping across the temple floor.

The scent of burning flesh filled her nose.

The DNHA collapsed around her, some writhing in agony, others already still.

But it wasn't enough.

A deeper, darker pulse swelled inside her.

She could feel it rising, clawing its way to the surface.

She could taste blood.

She needed blood.

Tara landed in front of the next officer before he could even lift his weapon.

His pulse hammered in his throat.

She grabbed him by the jaw.

His scream barely started before her teeth sank into his flesh.

The moment his blood hit her tongue, the world ripped open.

A vision slammed through her skull—

President Bailon.

He was there, somewhere close, watching.

Waiting.

Her stomach lurched.

But she wasn't done.

Her fingers burned—pyrokinesis flaring to life.

The officer barely had time to register what was happening before his body went up in flames.

The fire spread.

More screams. More gunfire. More death.

The world blurred.

She could feel herself slipping.

Her hands shook, her breath ragged, her entire body throbbing with power.

And then—

A hand closed around her wrist.

Tara froze.

Her head snapped up, and for the first time, she saw her reflection—

In Skye's black-glimmering eyes.

Her left eye wasn't her own.

It was Balor's.

A searing orange-red glow pulsed from her socket, flickering like embers in the dark.

"Tara," Skye murmured.

His grip tightened.

"You need to stop."

She couldn't.

The power inside her wasn't done yet.

Skye exhaled sharply.

Then he stepped closer, voice dropping.

"I won't let you lose yourself."

Tara shook.

A war raged inside her.

Balor's hunger gnawed at her ribs.

The Morrigan's voice whispered in her skull.

Blood dripped from her fingers, staining the temple ruins in streaks of red.

The DNHA was falling back now, retreating.

But she still wanted to chase them.

Still wanted to burn.

Seamus moved then, stepping into her line of sight.

"You've done enough, girl." His voice was steady, but firm. "Rein it in."

She tried.

The flames flickered.

The crows scattered.

Her eye dimmed.

The hunger remained.

But it sank beneath the surface, curling deep in her gut—waiting.

Skye finally let go of her wrist.

Tara exhaled shakily.

She turned back to the carnage.

The DNHA was retreating.

The temple was burning.

She had won.

But it didn't feel like victory.

It felt like something had been unchained.

And she didn't know if she could lock it away again.