Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
PHOENIX
Southeast of Jaakii, not far from the city, there’s a small cove with clear blue water and a pebbled beach. It’s tiny. Intimate. Private.
Steep dark rock mountains loom on one side, the vast deep sea on the other. My eyes trained on the horizon, I watch the sun lazily sink into the dark waters in front of me.
I’m not alone. Daegel stands right next to me. Many others are here, too.
On the edge of the beach, where the black pebbles meet the crashing waves, sit three carved boats with tall pyres inside. On top of the middle pyre is where Roman’s supposed to rest.
My best friend.
He should be there, with his eyes closed, hands peacefully folded across his chest, looking as if he’d just lain down for a nap. As if at any moment, his eyes might snap open and find mine.
But his body is not there. It’s lost somewhere in the depths of dark waters stretching ahead of us.
Nobody could retrieve the bodies lost in the sea after the mission went haywire.
It feels criminal, that Roman’s body won’t be put to rest.
His pyre is the only one without a body. Just a couple of his personal belongings rest there—a pair of daggers, a set of his Ezkai leathers, and a journal.
The other two fallen Ezkai are dressed in loose white pants and matching tunics.
I’m numb, my limbs heavy. Words dance on the tip of my tongue, meaningful words. But I can’t muster the strength to open my mouth.
What is there to say, anyway?
Roman’s dead, because I couldn’t get to him in time.
I should have been quicker. I should have fought Daegel harder.
He shouldn’t have ordered me to stand down. We fought about it extensively after the mission. He had to carry me off the ship, kicking and screaming.
I didn’t fight. And now, my best friend is dead.
The man at my side is the only one I’ve got.
Daegel’s hand rests on the small of my back. I turn my head slightly and our gazes meet.
I see the hurt in them. It pains him to see me like this, grieving. Devastated. Only after I’d seen the pain in his eyes did I stop fighting him.
He gently rubs my back and plants a soft kiss on my shoulder. It’s a small gesture, but the comfort it offers is bigger than life.
I’m grateful to have him at my side in this moment. I don’t think I could face this alone.
Not again.
Sure, my family didn’t have a burial. I couldn’t give it to them, even though they deserved it.
But I watched my home being devoured by flames, with people I loved inside. And I’m about to watch another person I cared about turned to ash by the ruthless fire.
Any step I take, any direction I look, there’s nothing but destruction. Death. Pain.
I forgot for a moment. Allowed myself to be blinded by the illusion that I may have a home, friends, and family again here in Ekios. That there might be more to life than the vengeance I seek.
I got distracted.
But I have clarity now.
Feeling eyes on me, I turn my head to the left.
Ezkai General stands at the front of Ezkai group.
His regal dragon rests behind him, the creature’s wise eyes observing the ceremony.
Taaslord Noire stands on one side and that beautiful mysterious fae on the other.
She wears a crisp ivory three-piece suit, her waist-long braids neatly clipped to stay out of her face.
She reminds me of a fox when her silver eyes scan the crowd from time to time, lips pressed into a thin line.
I was wrong when I assumed she was the General’s wife the first time I saw them together.
She’s someone they call Caetra here in Ekios.
The details of what that is are still blurry for me.
But every influential person in Ekios has one, some even a few.
But not necessarily in a sexual way—I’ve heard of some nobles who keep a Caetra’s company and have a spouse. No hard feelings.
I swallow hard at the look in the General’s gaze. Sadness lingers there, as if he knows exactly what I’m going through. He dips his chin slightly in compassion. My throat squeezes, but I return the gesture.
A group of monks enter the beach through a narrow pass in between the rocky mountains. They wear long white robes with wide sleeves. In their hands rest three onyx bowls. Wordlessly, they shuffle towards the pyres, and three monks pause in front of each one.
Someone sobs. Not far from us stands Roman’s family. When we got here, I recognized them immediately—he got his height and striking facial features from his dad, but he has his mother’s eyes. Roman’s dad pulls his mom closer and cradles her head to his chest.
A young fae with braided hair stands between two adults. I never even learned Roman had a little sister. My stomach sours and I avert my gaze.
Can I even call him my best friend? Do I even have a right to be this heartbroken over losing him if I didn’t bother learning such an essential part of him?
Roman’s gaze softened a little. “I’m sorry Nightingale tortured you. I feel terrible about not helping you or at least telling you what was to come.”
I crossed my arms. “As you should.”
“I deserve that,” Roman said with a sigh. “However, I thought we were friends. Or, at least, we’re on the way to being friends. So I think, as your only friend, or soon-to-be friend, I have a right to be curious about where on earth you know about things others don’t.”
My thoughts are scattered by the monks. The three that stand in front of the pyres turn to face the crowd. The sun is almost set, painting the sky the most beautiful oranges and reds.
“We’re here today to honor the fallen soldiers,” one of the monk says.
“These honorable Ezkai were loyal to our Ezkai General, defended people of Ekios fearlessly, and abided by Ezkai Laws with honor. In the process, they have sacrificed their lives. And for that, we will forever be grateful. They will be remembered. Their servitude will not be forgotten. But now, it’s time to let their souls rest together with the spirits of the gods.
They have earned it. We can only hope that one day, all of us will, too. ”
The backs of my eyes burn as the monks holding onyx bowls approach the crowd. Inside is the ash from Roman’s burned weapons and Ezkai leathers.
The monk holding Roman’s bowl goes to his parents first. It’s their right.
Roman’s dad urges his mom to go first. She dips two trembling fingers into the ash and then brings it to her face. Slowly, she draws a line from the top of her forehead down to her chin. The monk murmurs something and then offers the bowl to Roman’s dad.
When the monk with Roman’s ashes stands in front of me, I bite the inside of my cheek. He offers me the bowl and I dip two fingers into the ash. It’s light, and airy.
I drag the fingers down my face, and the monk says, “May his soul find peace with the spirits of the gods.”
Once all the attendants are marked, the monks return to their spots at the pyres. The other monks bring out a stand with a bronze bowl and place it in front of us.
Daegel nudges my shoulder. “It’s time.”
I blink, confused for a moment. When an Ezkai carrying a bow steps forward and approaches the bronze bowl, I snap into action.
Sliding my bow off my shoulder, I paddle to the bowl. I’m careful to select an arrow. While Daegel gifted me a set of arrows where every single one is enchanted to always find their way back to me, something in my gut tells me this one won’t be coming back.
I want to pick one that’s special.
“Is your family from the mountain fae clan?”
I watched the muscles of Roman’s arms ripple under his skin while he painted the wall of his apartment a deep plum color.
His hand stilled. He looked at me over his shoulder with a frown. “Excuse me? You know about the fae clans?”
I rolled my eyes. “Duh. Did you forget I spent all those nights in the library studying your history while you got drunk at Fern Silver’s?”
A mischievous smirk graced his lips. “Oh, is that how you call fucking around with your instructor now?”
I threw my brush at his back, and he laughed.
“Daegel said most fae Decarios descend from the mountain fae clans,” I said.
“Yeah, that’s true. Mine is no different. My parents are so proud of our heritage it’s ridiculous.”
I find an arrow carved with an image of the mountain fae clan dancing around a large fireplace. Dragons soar in the skies above them.
Like the other archers, I dip the arrow into the thick purple liquid inside the bronze bowl—a mixture of bloodroot for luck, and firemirth for finding the way. It sticks to the tip of the arrow like a second skin.
All of us archers line up in front of the monks and the pyres. One monk passes through us as we hold out the dipped arrows for him, and he sets them aflame.
The purple-and-blue flame flickers to life, startling me. I’ve never seen anything like it.
The monk who leads the ceremony raises his arms above his head, palms open to the sky. “Spirits of the gods, welcome our honored Ezkai into your world. We’ll meet them on the other side when our time comes.”
The first arrow shoots through the dark night and lands on the first pyre. Then goes the second and the third. The purple-and-blue tongues of the flame devour the pyre and the first soldier.
When it’s my turn to shoot, I pause. Close my eyes.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Open my eyes.
Let go.
Time slows as the arrow whizzes through air and lands in the middle of Roman’s pyre.
Goodbye, my friend.
The water is still. Not even a breeze of wind tickles my wet cheeks. It’s as if the land itself is holding its breath.
Soon, all three pyres are lit aflame. The flame is cold, though. Out of nowhere, the wind picks up, tearing through my hair. The monks push the boats with pyres off the shore, and they slowly float away.
Once the pyres are just a tiny dot in the distance, the crowd starts to break up. I stand unmoving, my feet rooted into the ground. I’ll only move when I can no longer see Roman’s pyre.
That’s the least I can do. Keep him company while he finds his way to the otherworld. Wherever that may be.
“Phoenix.” Daegel’s voice is gentle. His fingers find the small of my back. “It’s not your fault, you know that?”
My voice has no life in it. “I could have helped him if only I was faster to react.”
“Phoenix, my love. It’s not on you, what happened. I’m sure Roman wouldn’t want you carrying this weight on your shoulders.”
I turn to face Daegel, ready to argue, but the General with his escort and the Taaslord approach before I can say anything.
“Ezkai Phoenix.” The General addresses me first. Then, he turns to Daegel. “Ezkai Daegel.”
I dip my chin and press my fist over my heart. “General. Taaslord.”
“My condolences, Ezkai Phoenix,” the General says. “I was told you were close with Ezkai Roman.”
I clear my throat. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”
My gaze flicks towards his fae companion at his side. She’s even more striking up close.
Luminous skin, steely almond-shaped eyes, long hair woven into thick braids that reach all the way to her waist. A luxurious black diamond choker glimmers on her lean neck.
Meeting my gaze, she says, “I’m Vera D’Argent. I’ve heard a lot about you as the first human Decarios to ever become an Ezkai. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” I choke the words out, my throat thick.
She’s odd… No proper greeting for us, as Ezkai. But I suppose one doesn’t have to obey all the customs and rules when one shares the company of the Ezkai General himself.
“We must speak, Ezkai Phoenix,” the General says. “I’m sorry this needs to happen while you’re grieving, but we don’t have the luxury of time.”
Immediately, my heart sinks. “Yes, sir. Of course. Whatever you need.”
The General looks at Daegel before turning to me again.
“I assume Ezkai Daegel hasn’t briefed you yet about it.
” I shake my head. “This morning King Francis, the ruler of Wetra, as I’m sure you’re aware, arrived in Ekios.
He’s here to discuss politics, as he’s unhappy about a certain new law I’m about to pass.
Tomorrow midday, we’ll sit down for a meeting. I’d like for you to be there.”
My sight goes red for a moment. It takes a couple of heartbeats to steady myself enough so I can answer calmly. “I have to ask—why, sir?”
“The political and economic relationship between our countries has been shaky recently. I’m afraid King Francis sees this new law as a threat to his country, which it’s absolutely not.
Your position as a human Decarios serving the Order is important.
I would like you to be in the meeting so King Francis can understand Ekios is no threat to Wetra. ”
“Of course, sir.” I manage the words out. “I’ll be there.”