As he collapsed, Amon's sigh sounded almost peaceful. The orbo gun clattered from between his fingers to fall with a thundering sound in the sudden silence. Robin's eyes widened as she saw her mentor go down. She went to her knees, cradling his head in her lap. Wracking sobs shook her body, but she was distant. It was someone else kneeling on the cold concrete weeping for Amon.
His darkening eyes seemed to plead to her to run. He was dying to save her. As long as she was safe, he could go on. Robin shook her head and leaned in, daring to press her lips to his, pulling back after several heartbeats.
Amon smiled, trying to say something, but before he could force the words out, he went stiff, eyes staring at some point above her head.
Amon was dead.
Heartbroken, Robin threw her head back defiantly, glaring at the men who had caused this. She did not even attempt to control the rage-born firestorm that blazed through her body. She was the fire, her voice rising to meet its roar in a scream of anguish as everything in her line of sight burst into flame. She took a vindictive pleasure in the screams of agony and fear from Amon's murderers. Flames licked at the dome around the fire witch and her protector, but could not pass.
He building fell, but they were untouched. With some difficulty, Robin lifted Amon's body and walked through the last embers. They parted to let her pass, and she moved to a distant stand of trees, the angel among fire. She barely noticed the crack of thunder overhead, or saw the sudden flashes of lightning as the sky itself mourned for Amon. In relative safety, the girl fell to her knees, not noticing as the summer rain cooled her hot skin.