The night had never been so quiet.
After the explosion, Crescent Vale was a field of smoke and ruin. The once-proud towers of the packhouse had collapsed inward, leaving nothing but scorched stone and the faint, trembling glow of blue light rising from the ruins.
Jax stood at the edge of the crater, his breath sharp and ragged. Every instinct in him screamed to run straight into the chaos, but Zack’s hand was tight around his arm.
“Don’t.” Zack said quietly, his voice strained. “It’s not safe.”
Jax tore his arm free, his eyes wild. “She’s down there.”
“I know.” Zack said, his jaw tight. “But that…” He gestured toward the swirling remnants of silver-blue energy, “that isn’t normal magic. That’s the Door.”
Jax didn’t care. “I can’t just stand here.”
“You won’t help her by dying.”
The
