28. Ivy #2
He shakes his head, leaning back against the wall beside me as he stares off into the distance.
“Harmony was… everything,” he admits, stealing my breath.
“She was courageous, kind, brave, and very strong-minded, too strong-minded. When she had an idea in her head, there was no swaying her from that.” He takes a moment, a ghost of a smile tracing his lips as if recalling a memory before he continues.
“The night of the ball, where…” His words trail off, the ache palpable as I gulp.
“You don't have to talk about it, Hewy,” I murmur, and he heaves a sigh.
“It's okay.” He clears his throat to try again.
“The night of the ball, we had agreed we weren't going to go. That was our way of making a statement, but she went anyway. Instead of meeting me for a picnic in the forest, as we discussed, she thought it would be a better idea to try and murder one of the leaders of the other kingdoms.”
“Why would she do that?” I blurt, grimacing at my outburst when I know that this woman is not with us anymore.
“Because, unfortunately for Harmony—and Silas—they come from a family within the Fifth Kingdom that believes in having just one sodality.” He shakes his head, the words like acid on his tongue as his face crinkles in distaste.
“The family doesn't even belong to a single sodality, but… none of that mattered.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and he offers me a sad smile.
“It's okay. But what I need you to understand is, in that moment, if she'd have begged me to help her, I would have. I would have done anything for her, just as I know your hated mates would do anything for you.”
I roll my eyes. “It's only fun when I call them hated,” I grumble, and he smirks, his lips parting, but before he can speak, the door at the end of the hallway opens and Archer sticks his head out.
“Ivy,” he states, and I blink at him. He takes a deep breath, his spine stiffening as he clears his throat. “A meeting with The Fates has been called.”
“Second-guessing yourself?” Professor Viola asks as I step into the small chamber, engravings curling around the floor, creating a replica of what I recall appearing the night of my mating ceremony.
A shiver runs down my spine as the dull light peers in through the slightly ajar door behind her.
“Should I be?” I ask, and she shrugs.
Brushing invisible lint from her sleeve, she peers at me. “What is it you're trying to gain from this, Ivy?”
“Answers,” I reply honestly, and she purses her lips.
“Power?” she asks, and I scoff.
“Do I look like I want any more responsibility?
I came here for a normal experience, like everybody else.
Yet I've died three times.” Viola shakes her head, and my irritation rises.
“If you're worried that I'm after your job, you can rest assured that that's not the case,” I clarify, and she leans back, eyes wide, a startled look on her face, but it doesn't quite meet her eyes.
“I didn't assume that.”
“Of course, you didn’t.”
“Your mates will wait on the other side of the door. Knock on the door when you return,” she explains, and I frown.
“Return?” I repeat, and she smiles.
“I hope you get the answers you desire.”
Without another word, she exits the room, closing the door behind her, taking the final sliver of light that exists along with it and drenching me in darkness.
My pulse rings in my ears, my heartbeat a backing track as I wait with bated breath. With every second that passes, my mind races faster.
Why do I even need answers?
Why can’t I have the option to bury my head in the sand?
Why am I not choosing that for myself already?
Maybe I don’t have to deal with any of this.
Maybe I—
A flash of flames dances around the room, dimly shimmering in a twist of reds, blues, and greens before three hooded figures appear before me.
I tilt my chin up, feeling my skin tingle under their scrutiny as they circle me.
“The phoenix.”
“The phoenix.”
“The phoenix.”
They all state, and I gulp.
“Why are you here?” The one to my left murmurs, and I gulp.
“Hopefully for answers,” I whisper as the hooded frame directly in front of me tilts their head to the side.
“Why do you feel you need answers?” they ask, stroking a finger down my cheek, and I shiver.
“Because without answers, I can't ensure that we keep the peace among the people of the Fifth Kingdom.” I’m not sure where that reasoning comes from, but I like it.
“With all the powers at play, my only alternative is to take a deal with Leonardo Corrigan and represent the Second Kingdom as their Champion,” I explain before silence engulfs us.
It drags so long I’m certain they’re a figment of my imagination before the Fate to my right speaks.
“What answers do you seek?”
“Whatever Leonardo Corrigan is trying to use against me to lure me into his side.”
“And what makes you feel we know that?”
“Know that.”
“Know that.”
They echo, threading my veins with ice.
“Because the dragons told me so,” I answer honestly, and they put their hands together, their elongated nails long and rigid.
“Ah, so you're familiar with the dragons.”
“I am.”
“And you're aware of the bond with the phoenixes.”
“The phoenixes.”
“The phoenixes.”
Nausea churns inside of me as they continue to echo each other’s words. “Somewhat, I guess,” I mutter.
“What makes you think we know exactly what he has to offer you in those relics?”
“The fact that I never mentioned it was from a relic,” I blurt before exhaling, the tension and nerves stiffening my spine easing as I roll my shoulders back.
“The original phoenix was Guinevere,” the Fate on my left states.
“She was created for the kingdom to send peace throughout,” the Fate on the right adds before the figure in the middle clears their throat.
“The peace offering was molded into a weapon, and our gift was used against us.”
“We hoped with our second phoenix that things would be different, but it seems the phoenixes we create have all desired the same thing: a sense of belonging, a desire for power, and a need for control,” they speak in sync, and I gulp.
Their statement feels somewhat similar to what my mother has spoken of before.
“Each phoenix has been created to change the course of the path that the world is taking,” the Fate on my right states, and I nod.
“Including me,” I add, and their hoods move slightly as they nod.
“Including you.”
“Including you.”
“Including you.”
Fear laces through my veins. “That doesn't sound very reassuring because I have no clue what is needed of me.”
“That's because your ancestors are not here to guide the way.”
My pulse quickens. “Where are they?”
“Locked in the Phoenix Tomb.”
“Phoenix Tomb.”
“Phoenix Tomb.”
I rear back in surprise, but before I can question them further on it, the Fate straight ahead explains.
“Your mother's craft.”
“It is not our desire to help the phoenix beyond their true natural being, but I feel your suffering should come with a reward.”
“A reward.”
“A reward.”
I wish they would stop freaking doing that.
“I bless you with a vision, but what actions you take are yours, and yours alone,” the Fate to my left declares, pressing the tip of their finger against my forehead, and the room dissolves into nothing.
Just like when I press a relic, the ground shifts around me, and I find myself trapped in a space not much bigger than this, but I'm not alone.
Women lie around the room, exhausted and drained, as green flames hover overhead.
In my gut, I already know where I am.
My mother's Phoenix Tomb. Or as the dragons like to call it, her torture chamber.
“Sapphira will find her way,” a lady states, and the one beside her scoffs.
“Sapphira will never know her way. No matter how much we have explored and explained the errors of our ways, she will only learn from her own mistakes, and with those come more pain.”
“I can only hope The Fates bless us with another chance,” another woman asks, her voice almost sleepy as her eyes remain closed.
“Maybe this time they’ll do it differently.”
The first lady shakes her head, the move fragile.
“We were created to balance the energy, but that's impossible to do when we're trapped in here.
The corruption will never weaken while we're hidden behind these walls, burning with our own powers. The greed will only fuel the kingdoms and poison the waters.”
“War is inevitable.”
“It's always inevitable when it comes to these sodalities and their need for more.”
“We can only hope that they'll do things differently, that they'll bless us with a grace greater than ourselves.”
I shake my head, distressed by the fact that nothing feels different.
If they’re talking about me, about what I could represent, then it’s pointless.
I stand before these women, all with the same blonde hair and the same green eyes as mine, no stronger, no wiser. I’m just as weak as they are after my mother’s touch.
Desperate for more, to understand what they're saying, I take a step forward, silently pleading for them to know I need every last detail, when the vision evaporates before me and I fall to a heap on the engraved floor, back where I started.
I don’t have time to create my own wisdom and mistakes; I need theirs.
I need my ancestors.