Chapter Nineteen Adela
The forest is dark, expectant. Harsh winds move through the trees, dropping thick beads of rain from broken leaves.
Everything feels on edge. The air carries a heavy stillness that comes just before the world breaks apart.
It’s not silence, but waiting. I go to Etana, sitting down beside Lathai.
He does not threaten me now. He’s defeated.
His love is dying. The ground is soft beneath us, churned by our fight with the dragon. Mud clings to the roots like old blood.
Or perhaps it is blood. The blood seeping out of Etana.
I want to collapse on top of her, somehow hold her together with my body. But I’m afraid my weight will only make it harder for her—her breath is already sharp and labored.
The forest around us seems to close in, like spectators at the scene of an accident, unsure of what to do but wanting to bear witness to the horror.
Kian bursts out of the forest and into the clearing. “What?” He cannot speak, he’s breathing too hard. But relief obviously rushes through him at the sight of me. “The phoenix—”
He sits beside me in the dirt and tries to draw me close.
I shove him away. His comfort is suffocating, and besides, I do not deserve his soothing.
My chest is tight and my breath comes in short, sharp gasps, my hands trembling from the intensity of my emotion.
Waves of helplessness, guilt, and anguish wash over me, threatening to drown me.
I shift, trying to get closer to Etana, and it’s as if the roots beneath me shift, like the forest itself is recoiling from the emotion spilling out of me, wild and raw.
I want to rip the bird skull off my face. What use is it, wearing one of the beastly skulls, if I don’t even have the magic to go along with it? If I cannot help my friend.
My thoughts spiral, a vortex of anger, regret, and confusion, and I feel my vision narrow.
Images, clear and cruel, flood my mind and confirm what I have suspected since Cecelia shared her theories in the library—the phoenix magic is two halves of a whole.
Destruction and rebirth. And I am the destruction half of this pairing.
But to use destruction to save my friend would mean—A strangled laugh, bitter and hollow, escapes me, and the air buzzes with a charged anticipation.
Is this who I am now? I was born a keeper, the daughter of a healer.
If there is one thing you learn early in the valley, it is that life is cyclical, and there are worse things than death.
Like futile suffering. If there is no chance that Etana could live, the kindest thing to do would be to end her agony.
But I am not strong enough for that.
Again, emotion and images flood through me. Strength. Grit. Duty. Stewardship.
“There is absolutely no hope?” I ask Dad.
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, love. She’s still here, but it’s a matter of time. You should go home.”
“Home?” I would never. I could never. It feels like the forest leans in, but I’m uncertain if it’s an offer of shelter or a trap.
“This is going to be a long and drawn-out goodbye. Don’t stay to watch her suffer and struggle. Remember her brave and strong. Not in agony.” He gives my arm a squeeze. “I won’t leave her.”
“Neither will I.” My voice is sharp, cutting through the howl of the storm’s wind.
I place my hands on Etana’s burnt skin. I do not want to do this. I hate this. I have always tried to be so careful.
When I slip, I fall hard.
I slipped with the phoenix, and my actions have led directly here. There is no going back to undo them. There is no future in which they’re fixed. There are only two awful choices—to let Etana languish in pain or to stop being selfish and use the power the phoenix is promising to end her misery.
Though it feels as if my heart is shattering, I pull from the phoenix skull. There is no gentleness in me. There is no hesitation. I will not stop until I’m done. If this is all I am good for, all I can do to help my star sister, then so be it.
“Do this,” I say aloud. “You will do this. Now.”
The phoenix flows through me. There is no resistance, no hesitation. The magic bubbles up into me, flowing wild and ruinous.
I feel my magic flow into her. I kill Etana.