We run through the trees, the ground still trembling beneath our feet, the air thick with the remnants of the chaos I've just unleashed. My breath is ragged, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. Every step feels like it's not enough, like the earth itself is chasing us. But I can't stop. Not now.

I glance back over my shoulder. The rift in the earth is still there, widening and deepening with every passing second. The ground quakes as if it's alive, as if it's swallowing the forest whole. The tributes—whoever they were—are gone, consumed by the chasm. I can't even hear their screams anymore. Just the roar of the wind and the cracking of the earth.

And yet, I can still feel it.

The magic inside me.

Still restless. Still hungry.

I try to shut it out. Try to focus on running. But every time I close my eyes, I see it—the pulse of energy, like a heartbeat beneath my skin. The storm I can't control. The power that is me.

"Emerald, we need to keep moving," Xander says, pulling me gently by the wrist. His voice is urgent, but there's something in his eyes—something darker. Fear. Not of the tributes. Not of the rift. But of me.

"I know," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "I can feel it. It's not over."

Xander doesn't answer. He just pulls me along, his grip firm on my wrist. He's not letting go. And for some reason, that makes me feel a little less alone.

We push forward through the trees, the forest becoming denser, darker. The further we run, the more oppressive the silence feels. The sound of our feet on the ground is the only thing that breaks the quiet.

I can't help it. I have to know.

I stop, pulling my arm out of Xander's grasp. He stumbles, a confused look crossing his face, but he doesn't argue.

"Emerald?" His voice is softer now, less demanding.

"I need to try something," I say, more to myself than to him. I can feel it—the magic swirling just beneath my skin. It's still there, pulsing, begging for release. I need to understand it.

Before Xander can stop me, I extend my hand toward the sky. The wind responds immediately, swirling around me like a whisper. My hair lifts from my shoulders, flying in every direction. I can feel the magic building again, but this time, I'm not fighting it.

Let it happen.

I close my eyes, breathing in the air, the energy of the forest, the hum of the earth beneath me. The world around me feels alive.

Suddenly, it shifts. I feel the change in the air, the electricity crackling around me. The wind picks up, not just around me but all around us. The trees bend slightly as if bowing to my will. And I realize then—I can control it.

I open my eyes, and the world is different. The forest is brighter, sharper. I see every detail—the smallest movement, the shift in the leaves, the pulse of life beneath the earth. The magic is alive.

But it's not enough.

I concentrate harder, pushing the magic outward, reaching for something more. I want to see what else I can do.

And then, it happens.

The wind picks up with a violent force. I feel it rush through my hair, my clothes, pushing against my skin. The trees around me creak, the branches bending, cracking with the force of it. I feel the pull of the earth, the pull of the magic that wants to move.

"Emerald, stop!" Xander shouts, his voice panicked now. He grabs my arm again, trying to pull me back, but the wind is too strong. I can't control it. Not this time.

I look around, but everything is blurry, the wind whipping around me, making it hard to focus. I push harder, wanting to understand, wanting to master it.

And then the magic rips free.

The wind is no longer just wind. It's a force—whipping around us, tearing through the trees, uprooting them from their roots, sending branches flying like missiles. The earth beneath us shifts again, a deep tremor running through the ground, cracking the dirt wide open.

I scream, my voice lost in the roar of the storm I've created. I try to pull it back, to contain it, but it's too much. The magic is too wild. It's a beast I can't tame.

"Emerald!" Xander yells again, pulling me hard against him, trying to shield me from the chaos. "You're losing it! You have to stop!"

But I can't. The magic is everywhere now—alive, breathing, storming through me, around me, tearing through the forest. The ground cracks open, swallowing trees and rocks alike. The sky darkens, the clouds swirling in chaotic patterns above us, lightning flashing and thunder rumbling, as if the heavens themselves are responding to my fury.

"Please," Xander says, his voice desperate as he pulls me tighter against him, his arms around me, trying to shield me from the storm. "I don't know how much longer we can survive this."

And in that moment, I realize something: I'm not just controlling the elements. The elements are controlling me. They're feeding off my fear, my anger, my uncertainty.

I have to stop.

But I don't know how.

I close my eyes, focusing everything I have on finding the magic again, but this time, I try to let go. I try to let the storm die down. The wind rips through the trees once more, a final, violent howl, before it starts to slow.

Slowly, the roar of the storm begins to fade.

And then, silence.

I gasp for air, my body shaking, my heart pounding in my chest. My head is spinning. The storm is gone, but the damage remains. The trees are gone, the ground is torn apart. The air feels thick with the residue of what I've unleashed.

Xander is still holding me, his hands tight on my shoulders, his face pale. He's staring at the destruction around us, disbelief and fear in his eyes.

"Emerald…" he says, his voice a breathless whisper. "What have you done?"

I open my mouth to answer, but no words come. I don't know what I've done. I don't know what's happening to me.

But I can't stop.

Not now.