Rebecca

I could feel Maximus tense beside me. His claws slid free, and the air rippled with heat. “That is not me,” he said. “I am not that thing.”

The figure’s voice deepened. “You carry the same fire. You bleed the same light. You are what you were made to be, no matter how you run from it.”

I reached for his hand, feeling the tremor that ran through him. The gold under his skin brightened, spreading until his whole body glowed like molten glass. ...