Two days later, and Will was still missing.
One week later, and he was nowhere to be found. He seemed to have vanished, taking all evidence of his existence with him. Jacob sent Rooks, allies, and connections to see if he was killed by his own spies, or if he left London and looked for greener pastures or more profitable endeavors. Either way, Jacob was worried.
She saw him stumble into the main room at midnight, boots covered in mud, coat damp. With so much exhaustion in his eyes that he barely noticed her drinking tea by the window.
She saw him look under his bed for any items that belonged to Will, maybe he left something, anything, that could tell Jacob where his spymaster went.
She saw him drink himself to sleep, downing glass after glass of gin. Stumbling out of his stool and falling, and falling into a deep slumber right there.
She saw him brooding by the docks, clutching the only item Jacob found that was related to Will. The comb that they both used.
And she saw why he was so terribly opposed to the idea of herself getting with Will.
And when watching Jacob turn into a husk was too much to bear, May sought after the only thing in the world that made her feel happy, safe, and warm all at once.
May put her cheek to the ground and tried to find the bag she always stashed under the closet, her hand felt and felt, reached the wall and back again, but it was nowhere to be found.
Was this Will's doing? Did he reclaim the reward he gave her? A little part of May was glad he was probably killed by the Assassins' enemies. She closed her eyes and forced the disgustingly gratifying idea to fade away.
Her fingers brushed a familiar shape, one made of leather. She pulled it out, it was Will's candy parcel. May looked at the closed door. She could run to Jacob, open the parcel together to see if he left something in there, whether dangerous or not. But he was probably drunk or gambling his fortune away in some shady pub, or both.
She inhaled and opened the parcel.
She was not greeted by the smell of raspberry candy, nor the uncomfortable sight of a lit bomb, there was a folded paper there. A letter, she immediately thought. In the one place Jacob didn't know about, but May did. A letter for her.
She unfolded the paper and tossed the empty parcel back under the closet.
Great Tower St. I will find you there. Bring no one and nothing.
May blinked, she read the letter again. Will was inviting her, to what? A trap? Was he in trouble somehow and was trying to contact her? No, Will placed this letter in here before he went missing. He couldn't have crept passed a dozen Rooks and a half-drunk-but-still-protective Jacob, just to place a stupid letter instead of talking to her face.
He planned this, but why? She didn't know.
If this was another life, she would let Jacob know. She would go with the assassin to retrieve his precious spymaster. They would argue like a married couple, and forgive each other eventually. And the three of them would focus on annihilating the Templars one by one.
But it was her life. Life in sodden old London that crushes the weak and poor and addles the rich with their own power. This is the only world she knew, one that doesn't forgive mistakes.
She stood with the letter against her chest as if someone was watching, and moved to her nightstand, where a half-burned candle propped up using its own wax, and a box of matches, waiting for the cold night. She lit a match and held the thin paper to the flame, watching it as it turned black and rain fragile, ashy bits on her lap. If this was a trap meant for her, she wasn't about to drag Jacob down with her.
She donned a full black attire that a Rook abandoned after it became too tight for his growing muscles. The Rook outfit Jacob gave her was smeared with mud, and the sleeves smelled of blood and salted meat. She threw the articles on her bed and hoped Jacob wouldn't wake up from his alcohol-induced coma and chase after her.
She hurried to the door, but before she opened it, her mind drifted to the dagger and revolver she kept under her pillow. Will saw them once and joked about them, playfully accusing her of not trusting him. Well, it seemed to be the reason, and it still is. She hid the weapons under layers of clothing and set out to the Tower.
With a cloud-wrapped moon and a few dim gaslights as her only guide, she trudged through the dewy night, watching every soul warily as they passed by, throwing her both odd and lewd looks. She dressed all in black for a reason. She didn't want to be seen, not by Jacob, and not by those people, and for a fleeting moment she found herself wanting to disappear from Will as well.
The Tower was behind her, its walls ancient and wrought, protected by the watchful eyes of the royal guard who loitered on the roofs, glaring at whoever dared to beseech the castle. The tops of their bearskin hats appearing momentarily as tall, round silhouettes before vanishing. She wondered if Jacob ever scaled those walls, since he seemed to have climbed every building in London.
May walked closer to the walls of the buildings, trying not to bump into drunkards and muggers and gangs that weren't the Rooks. She was in the heart of Great Tower street, and Will still haven't showed up. She knew it, she knew he would lure her out and decide not to meet her after all. What were his intentions? Did he want to see Jacob alone? Those two should get a damn room, and not the one she shares with them.
May decided to wait by the pavement, watching carriages and delivery wagons, and pickpockets as they tried to snatch a fat purse or a heavy ruby necklace. She brought her feet close and stood taller, braving through the cold wind and willing to stay for just a big longer. The urgency in Will's handwriting instilled a vague unease in her heart. It was far too interesting, far too frightening to avoid. But here she was, like an idiot, waiting in the cold for a man who she knew wouldn't show up. And for what? Did she still feel something for him? If he viewed her as something more than a good exercise—in so many ways—then things would be different, he would be different.
She squeezed her eyes shut, she didn't know what to think or how to feel about him. He gives her something, then pretends it never happened, then repeats the cycle. And she takes it, as if the high of his attention was worth the low of his abuse. No, no longer. She walked out here to see why he's been missing, she did not have any feelings for him.
When she almost gave up on a bittersweet wish, a carriage stopped in front of her. The door opened from the inside, and the first thing she saw in the curtained darkness was Will's grey eyes.
"Get in." He said, and leaned back in the backwards-facing seat.
She looked around, then at the driver. This is a hansom. But something told her it was also something beyond that. She sighed and got in, closing the door behind her.
The carriage immediately moved forward. The street whizzed by.
Will was silent for a long moment, listening to the world with closed eyes. He wasn't wearing his coat, no, he was wearing brown and black, with a top hat on his head, perfectly fitting him. He was wearing black leather gloves, and was wearing a tight scowl to match his dark attire.
"Will."
"May."
"Why have you summoned me? I thought… I thought you were in danger."
Will barely looked at her, he turned his head to the window and looked behind the curtain at the lights. His eyes almost glowed forbiddingly. Deep and fierce. May felt the urge to escape the carriage somehow.
"Do you trust me?" He said in a broken voice.
"What?"
"I need to know this before we say anything, do you trust me?"
The question was complex, and it raised so many more questions, "I don't know. But then again, I try not to trust anyone."
"That's good, trust shouldn't be given freely. After all, people all want the best for themselves, never for other people."
"That's not true…" She remembered the Morvells. Were their generosity only a way to repay the heavenly debt they were in? She didn't think so. Or at least, maybe it was so when it first started, but then it changed into giving for the sake of giving.
"That is true, May. People don't sacrifice themselves for others. People are selfish."
"So, you deny the sacrifice your mother made for you and your brother?"
He clenched his teeth. May thought he was about to strike. But he never moved an inch.
"That's the only human who ever sacrificed for me, but after her, no one ever did. I gave my life to Jacob, all my power, all my allies, and he was nothing but a pain to me. A thorn in my side."
"He kept you safe. He sheltered you! He gave you a job! How could you say this about him?"
"Kept me safe? He forced me to work for him, to join the Assassins. As if I wanted to join a cult. I was a young boy, then, I didn't know why or how or what, I didn't know anything. I only knew I had to kill or rob or pillage to survive, and that suited Jacob just fine. He didn't need to explain to me what killing was, or what he did when he wasn't looking for the next Templar to butcher. I was already an assassin in his eyes, he just had to get me on his side."
"William, I don't think-"
"And he just sits there, with his gauntlets and contracts and poisons he forced me to make for him, while pretending that what he's doing is the right thing. What he's doing is for a good cause. He's saving mankind, he's destroying those who wish to enslave it."
"Isn't he?! You'd prefer if the Templars took over?!"
The carriage stopped, Will darted out and left the door open, he stood by a door that led to a beige building. He looked at her, impatient. May huffed and climbed out of the carriage, closing the door behind her and watching as the driver spurred his horse away. She looked around, not recognizing the area in the darkness, but she probably wouldn't in the light either.
Will fished for a set of keys and unlocked the door, already taking off the hat that was so unlike him. May followed after him to a set of stairs and two doors that led to separate flats. He went to the one on the right and unlocked, going in and tossing the hat, his coat, and his keys on a small table by the door. May closed the door and waited by it.
He immediately moved to the tiny kitchen which was basically a larder and a small coal stove. He swept up a teapot with a short spout and snatched two cups from an open cabinet filled with more candy than china. He walked to May and handed her a cup, and poured a brown, lukewarm liquid in it. She eyed the cup with some distaste.
"Have you ever tried Cocoa before? It's the most delicious thing your lips will touch. It's supposed to be served hot, but we took too long getting here."
Then he poured himself a cup and walked to a coffee table, put down the teapot, and plopped on a small plain love seat. With the cushions sinking so low they almost touched the ground.
He looked up at her as he sipped the rich, sweet beverage, "Take a seat, kitten. We have a lot to discuss." He slapped the love seat with his empty hand.
"Don't call me kitten, only Jacob calls me that."
"And now I call you that, too. It's not my fault Jacob likes to replace names with nicknames so thoroughly that you forget your own name."
She took a sip, licking her lips afterwards, it was cold, but it was still amazing. It kissed her tongue with a sharp sizzle, is this chili? That's odd, she thought.
She walked to the free spot next to William and carefully sat down, she sunk, her knees rising above her bottom.
They sipped in silence, both enjoying the sweet taste. Will's apartment was so obviously his. For a person who knows what evidence can do, Will didn't try to hide his tracks. The coffee table was overrun with stains of either wine or chocolate. There was this odd smell of stale candy clinging to the air and the furniture. And the cushion underneath her felt lumpy, as if there's bags or candy wrappers or stashed cans of cookies stuffed under it. The color of the walls and the floor was stark white, unblemished and untouched. Much like his coat even after all the dirty deeds he's committed with it on his back.
They finished their beverages, and placed them on the coffee table. Will wiped his lips with the back of his hand, May crossed her arms and tried to read his mind. Indifferent eyes and steady breathing practically numbed her. He looked as if he fell asleep with his eyes open.
"William, what do you want?"
"I want to tell you what you're doing."
"What? What am I doing?" She looked at herself, as if he was describing an action in the present.
"You're chasing after a dream."
She stared at him, trying to decipher his words. A dream? All she ever had was nightmares.
"What dream? What are you talking about? Stop speaking in cryptic words."
"No, you're literally chasing after a dream. I watched over you after you made me stab you with the fear spike. I heard you whisper a name, and talk about a gauntlet, and saw you listen to the ghostly pleas of a dead woman. Yara is dead, May, she's been dead for thousands of years. The gauntlet is lost-"
"No, no! Stop right there, I'm not listening to your nonsense."
"It's the truth. I went to her tomb, the Isu vault. It's in North Yorkshire, upstream of Ingleton waterfalls. It's nothing but a ruin, and the gauntlet was nowhere to be found. I found gold tablets with etchings about everything that ever was, including the story of the keeper of these tablets. But that's it, there's nothing else, and I want you to know that. What you dreamed is something anyone who comes in contact with the map will suffer, visions that urge you to find the vault, to fall into the trap. You dreamed of Yara because she was like you, a prisoner who wanted to be free. But she's dead. And there's no gauntlet."
Thoughts, questions, and a boiling anger gathered in May's head, she felt like fainting. Her face felt cold and her feet colder, "No, you're lying. The map is undecipherable, there's no way anyone could translate it, you're a fraud."
"The map is undecipherable now, but what about… before?"
She looked at him with a pair of teary eyes, "What do you mean?"
"I looked for the gauntlet once, before the Assassins or the Templars even knew of its existence. And you know what I found? After years of research and yearning and searching, years of pretending and hiding and promising myself. I found nothing but a vault full of the skeletons of those who tried to claim the gauntlet for their own, those who fell into the trap the Isu set for them the same way they set for Yara. I read her thoughts, etched on black stone instead of gold, slathered in blood, as if she scrawled them with her own nails. I witnessed her descent into madness through lines of ancient sorrow that covered the walls. And you think she's still alive? You think anyone who looked for the gauntlet is? The piece of Eden lures men into its dark pit, coercing them with tales of unimaginable power. And when they believe it, it imprisons them to guard the secrets of the Isu. I survived because I didn't take the bait, instead, I destroyed the clue that leads to it."
"You… you sabotaged the map?"
"I made sure no one ends up in the vault, but cling to the false hope that there's a buried treasure waiting for them."
"Why?" She asked, dreading the answer.
Will leaned closer, "Because it's the only way one could manipulate both the Assassins and the Templars at the same time, dangle a piece of Eden in front of them, and they flock to the merest chance of getting to it, committing unbelievable acts on the journey, mostly to each other, until they find the end of the line, and find it was all for naught," he rose and paced in front of her, "Don't you see? I'm trying to destroy them both! I'm ridding the world of them, and when they're gone, they will no longer force young, innocent children to join their war! You were a Templar once, one that didn't even know what kind of war you were in. You were one of those henchmen who fought blindly for a cause you didn't understand, and if you did, wouldn't believe in. Indoctrination is the worst of crimes, and you and I, we are a victim of it. Victims because we had no other choice."
"It's not only us, there are hundreds of people who lost their old lives to join the Templars, and more to join the Assassins…" She looked at her lap, feeling as if she was about to go insane, the words he was saying were too much, as if he was reciting a play, a fantasy that could never take place.
"But none of them are like you. I watched you, May," He kneeled in front of her, trying to look into her eyes, "I watched you every night your uncle hosted a banquet or a ball, I watched you suffer. I saw myself in you, someone who was thrown into this disgusting city because their family was torn apart by the seams, someone who was forced to go to war because it's the only way you could survive."
"How did you get in my uncle's banquets?" She asked, a tear slid down her cheek, but she barely noticed it.
"Don't you see? I am Ellis Cervantes, the Templar chemist. I am William Franczak, the Assassin spymaster. I am my own brother, the leader of the disbanded gang that escaped the authorities until it simply vanished. I am a murderer and a fraud and a liar. And I am a gentleman and a businessman and a smiling idiot who pretends to be in love. I am anything, and everything I want to be. I am always more. And I will never be what someone else wants me to be."
May raised her head, and looked right into the eyes of the universe. It was churning, turning, exploding with firmness and strength unimaginable, drowning in hatred and love all at once, alight with joy, deep dark with sorrow. It was everything that could be and could not. It made her eyes hurt, and made her heart pump blood through her veins faster than it ever did before.
"I want to wipe them out, May, so nothing could hurt you or me ever again. I almost lost you, right in the midst of the troops I sought to both free and destroy, but I found you, and I won't let you fall into the trap I made for them. I want you to come with me. To join me. To stand with me."
"William, this is insane…"
"No, this is not insane. It's the only sane thing in this city."
"I… can't…" She stood, moving away from him on shaking legs, "I can't partake in massacring hundreds and hundreds of innocents, people from both sides I lived with and fought with!"
"We will only rid the world of those who force them to fight their filthy war."
"There are those who would follow their leaders beyond death."
"Then those die with their beloved leaders."
He stood, May stepped back, stopped near the door if she needed to make a swift exit. William stayed his ground, but he offered his hand, "I want you, Maybelle Willis. I want us to get revenge together. I want you to stay by my side forever."
She looked at his hand, "What of Jacob? You'd kill him?"
A growl stayed lodged in his throat, "Of course, he's the first to die."
"No," she stepped further back, "No, no, I won't join you in killing him."
"And why not?"
She sobbed, "Because he doesn't deserve it."
"He betrayed you! He almost killed you!"
"And you almost killed me! You hit me so much that I couldn't see straight for days, and you joined him in his plan to stab me in the back whether we find a gauntlet or not!"
"It was all part of the act," He moved around the coffee table and slowly approached, "Come on, join me, be with me. I promise you'll be happier than you ever were."
"No, I won't." She shook her head, standing defensively with her shoulder against the door.
Will paused, lips parting, and for a moment he looked innocent, like a confused child. Then he let his hand drop and his frown appear.
"I'm afraid you've no other choice."
"Oh yeah? Why is that?"
"Because you have nowhere else to go. Not anymore."
"What do you mean? What did you do?!" She asked, but he never replied, "What did you do?! What did you do to the headquarters?!"
May's heart pounded, adrenaline shot through her veins. She darted to the door and tried to open it, but her hand was sweaty and flimsy. Will came behind her as fast as lightning, seizing her collar and dragging her off the door. He slammed her into the wall and fixed her in place with a forearm digging into her neck. She choked, gasping for air.
"You will not abandon me, not for him, and not for anyone."
"I don't belong to you…" She wheezed, "And if you think I do, then you're no better than any of them."
Before he could reply, she delved in her layers of clothing and found the revolver, she aimed it under her arm and fired. Will stepped back, easing the tremendous pressure from her reddening flesh. She didn't stop to see what she'd done, but she heard him cry out as she pried open the door, she almost stumbled down the stairs.
She broke out into the night, a strong wind cooled her lungs and made her body tingle. She rushed away from the building, barely seeing what's in front of her, not daring to look behind her. Horses neighed and drivers yelled, gasping at the smoking gun in her hand. Her eyes stung against the wind, and she tasted a bitterness to it that didn't have anything to do with the cold.
She blinked and stopped in front of a moving carriage, the driver swore loudly and pulled the reins so hard the horse reared and moved uneasily for many seconds.
"What are you, blind?! Or suicidal?!" The driver said, rising slightly as if he meant to step down.
May aimed the revolver at him, the words caught in his throat and he raised his hands at once, "Get. Out."
"What?"
She stomped to the side of the carriage, "Get out!"
"Alright alright! I'm getting out!"
As soon as he climbed down, she climbed up and spurred the horse on with a shout and a lash of the reins. It didn't matter if the coppers noticed the crime and were on her tail, maybe they'd stop whatever Will did.
The horse neighed in surprise and hurried towards the eye of the storm.
One person could do more damage than hundreds, perhaps even thousands of men gathered and united, an army. One person could eradicate the life of thousands. One person could bend a city to his will.
She never thought it was possible, but she was staring at evidence of its possibility. The headquarters was in flames, the twin buildings and the warehouse burning endlessly as if it produced fire from within. When one is faced by such a tremendous, powerful, real sight, there's nothing one couldn't believe. Will was more dangerous than many things she'd seen. She'd raised her rifle at armed men, killed some and disabled others. She walked through fire. And endured the heights for years. She lived under the roof of two merciless Templars who treated their own family like prisoners. And she went against an assassin, and survived.
But this, this demon that wanted to burn the world, she didn't think she could escape him. It was easy to believe it, and easy to let go and give up.
But she wasn't going to.
Her feet hit the ground and she rushed towards the flames, bursting through the tongues and ignoring the smell of singed hair. Rooks were battling inside the ring of fire, sword to sword and gun to gun with the men she saw while spying on Cain. Rooks stood on ledges and fired bullets that missed and bounced off the blackened ground. Glass burst on the right, a body falling out of the window, seemingly hurled by someone lurking within the flames. The corpse landed in front of May, still on fire, marred and unrecognizable.
She whipped out her dagger, and tried to figure out who she's supposed to kill. She dodged a man or a woman on fire, their voice too high pitched to be either. The person jumped into the Thames, dying of disease rather than burning. Blood spilled out of a slit throat on her left, spraying on her sleeve. A man in black, expressionless, wiped his knife on his chest and marched towards her. She raised her gun and fired at the head, the soldier died soundlessly, not even his body thudded, as if he was seized by a sudden sleep. As if he was already dead and was reanimated to fight them.
She almost slipped as she hurried to the building that used to be the main room, someone bumped into her, and fell on top of her, she heard a blood-curdling scream and could only see fire. Then she felt a sting on her arms that quickly became an unbearable pain that made her want to die instead of go through it. She kicked the burning body away and rolled on the ground to put herself out. She didn't know if it was a Templar or an Assassin, she didn't see a face she recognized, or hear a voice she knew. She only saw death, death, death. Pain. Misery. The orange light bathing the battlefield. Rooks and Templars fell around her, or ran, unable to douse the flames that devoured them whole. Everywhere around her was a walking nightmare sewn out of flesh and fire.
She stood, then didn't think, but jumped through the door frame and tried to take in the scene within.
A man in black was on the ground, surrounded by cinders and shards of wood. A figure moved in her vision and came up to her, something glinting in his hand. May dodged before she even understood what he was trying to do. The bullet whizzed by, and then another she felt kiss her shoulder, May fired back, missing. Then the gun slipped out of her grasp. She couldn't see through the flames, couldn't think, and couldn't feel anything but pain and heat.
Cain's scarred face came to view, he lowered his gnarled arm and snarled at her, putting his boot on her chest.
"You're finally here? Good, I wanted to see your face, I wanted to kill you myself. And I wanted you to see the beauty of this, as well." He raised his arms to the flames, as if welcoming an old friend. His figure was back-lit by the light, and in all his burned glory, he smiled at her.
He itched his thick beard. Beneath the right side of his facial hair the scars showed, melted, tangling flesh, "I think you already know who I am, so, introductions shan't be made."
Despite her pain and fear, she smiled, "Of course I do. Everyone knows everyone in this war, we shouldn't be surprised."
He chuckled, scratching his temple with the barrel of his gun, "You know, we met before. When you were younger, almost fresh from Nottinghamshire, I came to report to the Viscount, and saw your little face peering at me from a corner while I pretended to discuss good coffees with the Viscount. And I saw you again, and again, almost twice a year. You might've not noticed me, or noticed the constant change my face undergoes. The increasing scars, the milky eye that burned shut some years back, and reopened through a painful surgery," he eyed her, almost with appreciation, "such a pity that you fled from Hayward's custody to join these… repulsive criminals."
"You ain't better."
He knelt before her, arms folded, finger still on the trigger. His shoulder length hair dripped water on her knees, "You can change, you know. You can choose the right path. It's never too late." His smile didn't touch his eyes.
"Really? You want me to go back to Hayward?"
"I have enough authority to vouch for you, to tell him that you changed. That you intend to serve him, to repay him for raising you, all these years."
She had to chuckle, "Raising me? You mean raising me to the roof so I could shoot down robbers who wanted his gold bars and diamonds? Enough horseshit."
"You'd rather be back at the countryside? Playing your dusty instruments around a petty fire? That it?"
"You seem to know an awful lot about me, which is odd and pointless, because you tried and are trying to kill me."
Remy Cain shook his head, laughing as he looked at her, adoration in his eyes, "The Viscount intended to turn you into one of his commanding men—or women. Along with Rosalie, you'd offer the female opinion we so acutely crave. I was to be your mentor, I'd even made you the ring, the silver with the Templar insignia. I'd show you an example, but it's deep in my pockets."
She stared at him, "You, my mentor? What makes you think that I would accept transitioning into an Order of greedy bastards?"
"If your judgement wasn't tampered by walking with these fools, you wouldn't hesitate to join. I know you, I've seen you and I've studied up on you."
He treated her like an experiment, it was revolting. She glared at him, trying to push him away with only her vision. She tried to move, but it was too painful and he had her under his boot, "Being with them made me realize the flaws of both organizations. The creation of you both is a jarring mistake. You're the unwanted denizens of our world, working underground to leech from it and control it and burn it to satiate your fetishes. On the other hand, the Assassins are a bunch of homicidal philosophers that benefit from organized crime. Neither of you are worthy of existence."
"Is that what you think? You think our war, spanning centuries before your ancestors, and your ancestors' ancestors, is pointless?"
"And stupid, and incredibly childish."
"Then be sure to tell Ashton Willis of your opinions, when you meet him. And when it's my time to go, as well. You'll discover what would happen if someone were to die in hell."
He raised his gun, and May stared at the barrel. So, this is how it ends? There's no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, the entire headquarters she viewed as her home is burned to the ground, and everyone was being manipulated by a sociopath on drugs. And finally, she will die by the weapon she held close to her most of her life. By a bullet, a tiny, soaring metal eagle that helped shape history and wrote her story from beginning to end.
But then, she heard a sound.
One she heard the first time she saw Jacob's green eyes.
Cain yelped, dropped the gun, and clawed at his back as if a humongous snake bit him there. He turned, and May saw a spike lodged between his shoulder blades, tied to a strong wire that wrapped around Cain as he tumbled and rolled about. The figure in black that was once motionless slid an inch towards Cain every time the burned man fidgeted. May watched numbly, unable to react. Her fingers touched something cold, odd, everything was burning hot in this fiery dome, she felt as if the object was her friend. She lifted the cold metal, and almost out of inborn instinct, pulled the trigger at Cain. Twice, Thrice. Until he fidgeted no more.
She peered warily over Cain's corpse, trying to see Jacob, notice him in the maze of her addled mind. His cheek was to the ground, and he was barely breathing. He was tethered to Cain by his gauntlet, and made no move to escape.
May grunted, wincing and moaning as she pushed off the ground. She pressed her hand to her shoulder, where it hurt the most, and blood coated her palm.
She stepped over Cain, and stumbled to her knees, crawling towards Jacob, ignoring the pain and the fire. She reached him, and with her forehead resting on his back, blindly pulled the gauntlet off his arm. Then she dragged him, crawling with him in tow, heading towards salvation, the door frame leading to a colder, more merciful hell. If it was the last thing she'll ever do, she will get him to safety, she will get him to safety.
And she got him to safety, dragging him away from the falling splinters. She laid on her back, unable to go on. She silently watched the fire devour the sky, watched as people died and killed and died. Then, she saw everything fade.
Things are heating up (excuse the pun), what do you think will happen next? :)