44. Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Three
Isoria
I was immersed in darkness, my body weightless. All my pain had vanished, leaving me in blessed, soothing peace.
And then the world burst into flames, white-hot and searing, consuming my body in utter agony.
Ragged screams tore from my throat, but they were soundless.
I struggled in vain against the flames licking at me, finding that nothing moved at my command.
My limbs floated uselessly around me, suspended in blackness.
It was an endless void, save for the fire devouring me.
Am I dead? Alive? Somewhere in between? Is this my magic resurrecting me?
The pain became too much, devouring my consciousness until I slipped back into knowing nothing at all.
Hours, days, perhaps years or eons passed.
Or no time at all. I was in darkness again, but it wasn’t totally empty this time.
My body was lying against something soft rather than being suspended in nothing.
I wasn’t strong enough to move, only lie there and drink in the sight of the figures I distinguished through the blackness.
One was nothing but swirling shadows, as if it belonged to this darkness. Like it was a part of it. Mortius.
The other looked like a female fae, but she was impossibly beautiful, her skin radiating light and her gaze full of unfathomable wisdom and power.
My skin prickled just looking at her, and I knew, instinctively, even if her appearance did not perfectly match the likenesses depicted of her in paintings and statues, that this was Vithenna, Goddess of Life.
“Solea does not watch over her beloved phoenix shifters very closely now, does she?” Mortius’ gravelly voice said.
Vithenna’s voice was like music or nature itself, like a rippling stream burbling on a summer’s day, a breath of wind through the grass, or birdsong at the break of a spring day after an endless winter.
“She blessed them with her own flame, but you know this is the part where we take over. Magic gifted by me to bring them back to life.”
“And by me, blessing them with the peace and healing of the afterlife before they return to your cruel world,” Mortius cut in.
“And now your part is done. Go, let me speak with her.”
Mortius did not argue, his shadows swirling and slowly melting into the darkness until only Vithenna remained. Her eyes turned on me, assessing me with an emotion I could not read.
“Isoria Gildmere, your magic, gifted to you by the gods themselves, has granted you another chance at life.” Her mouth curled in something almost like a smile, but not quite.
That is not all you wanted to say to me, is it? As if I didn’t have physical use of my voice yet, my thoughts rang out loudly in this space, so that I knew she heard them too.
“You have questions.”
Are you finally here to answer my prayers? I’ve begged for a way to heal the phoenixes. And then for a way to stop the revenants that are destroying Emberglade. Do you know what’s happening?
Vithenna gave a single nod. “You’ll have to find me in my temple, in the land of the living.”
You can’t tell me here? Now?
“The gods do not give freely. There is a price to pay, even for information.”
My stomach dropped, but Vithenna was already gone. Anger and frustration tangled with my immense relief that my magic had saved me, that I had another chance at saving my people.
Had Archer been spared too?
Exhaustion clung to me, dragging me back into unconsciousness.
This time, I blinked awake to darkness again, so thick it took a few moments to adjust and discern my surroundings.
My throat was as dry as sand, and the scent of smoke clung to me, but when I assessed my body, there were no signs of wounds.
Lifting my tunic—a new one someone must have slipped onto me after my flames had extinguished—I couldn’t find even a scar.
Everything was new and whole, like my body had been completely remade.
I’d heard stories of how phoenixes could rise from the ashes, even if I’d never seen it happen myself, but I hadn’t known all the details or if the stories were all accurate.
Had I actually burned up in my fire and died?
All my memories seemed intact. When I reached for my magic, it was there, easily accessible.
It was as all the stories had said—my magic had consumed me in a healing fire, letting the same body reform from the ashes. I was still me, with nothing lost, nothing changed, except that I would not be afforded such a mercy again, my magic unable to resurrect me twice.
A new possibility occurred to me. What if Archer’s and my blood bond had severed in death?
What if he’d already sensed the change? Just because I’d awoken, alive and free, in his rooms didn’t mean that couldn’t all change.
What if he was planning to strike when I awoke, to put me in chains for later judgment or execute me immediately in his own quarters?
Or maybe he hadn’t noticed yet, but once he did, surely he’d make his move…
My chest tightened, breath constricting. Cold sweat broke out on my brow, and I began calculating how I could escape.
I blinked again, my eyes adjusting further to the darkness.
I wasn’t in Archer’s quarters. I sat up, trying to make sense of my surroundings.
Foul odors of filth and old blood mingled with earth and mildew assaulted my nose.
There was stone beneath me and on three sides, but they were lined with metal bars that matched those in the heavily barred door on the fourth side.
The dungeons.
My heart plummeted.
Had they discovered me while I was burning? Or had my resurrection finally snapped the bond between Archer and me, giving him the chance to reveal my identity and throw me in here?
Grief stabbed me so sharply that I had to blink against the threat of tears. Would he really have betrayed me that quickly and easily?
Worse was the pain seeping into me, tightening my chest, pounding in my temples, weighing down my bones.
I could remember what it was like to wield my magic, but my magic itself felt…
unreachable. I couldn’t recall how I’d accessed it before, couldn’t find the strength to conjure the smallest spark.
Forget-me-nots, surely. They had to be infused in the metal bars encasing me.
Isa? Can you hear me?
Relief flooded me. Archer. You’re alive. Our…our bond is still here.
Thank Vithenna, you’re alive. Your resurrection was complete, but you were still unconscious when they brought us here.
I was afraid your magic hadn’t worked. And then I thought the bond would be severed forever, but apparently phoenix shifter magic restores everything as it was before you were hurt, so that included our bond.
A beat of hesitation, as I wondered how he’d learned all that about my magic.
Had he been frantically tearing through books and researching while I’d been dying? Are you all right? he asked.
Completely whole, like I was never hurt at all. His relief and joy filled our bond. Strangely, the connection I’d despised and wanted to break was now comforting. I was soothed knowing it remained. And the forget-me-nots aren’t hurting it either.
That’s because the bond isn’t magical, exactly. It’s something deeper, a connection between souls. Its origin is from the gods, like magic, but…different.
I sucked in a breath, startled by how relieved I was that our bond was intact and unaffected by the forget-me-nots.
How did you find out how to save me? The price if I’d already died…
I shook my head. Even though Archer would have died anyway, imagining him sacrificing himself for me seemed like insanity.
But it’s not that bad, when the phoenix is still alive.
Did you read how to save me in one of your books?
There was a pause. Yes, Orchid helped me and we found it. A few drops of blood to help your magic do the rest? You can be grateful I’m used to suffering because of you, Feathers.
Thank you. The memory of the feverish glint in his green eyes when he’d found me, of his voice pleading for me to stay with him. Surely, it had been because he didn’t want to die too, right? For…ensuring my magic could work properly.
Archer laughed lightly in my mind. What did you expect, that I’d leave you to die so I would too?
How much time has passed? What happened? I thought of Dell’s threats, and my stomach twisted.
Only a day. They…they found the body.
Memories flitted through my mind. Flames dancing from my hands.
Dell’s screams. The smell of his flesh burning.
The thud of his body. It had been gruesome, awful.
My magic flaring to life to save me instinctively.
Even though I’d hardly been able to hold it back in the moment, a pang of guilt still cut me.
And apparently my father was already suspicious, Archer went on, which is why he sent that worthless weasel to watch you anyway.
I fear I made things worse. He was blaming me for the recent escaped phoenixes.
The guards stormed in and overwhelmed Orchid and me.
They wanted to chain us both, but I was able to argue against that since you were already unconscious. My word must still hold a little power.
I guess this means the wedding’s off, I jested, trying to find light in the situation.
I can’t believe I killed someone. My magic took over.
I didn’t want to—I knew I was going to die, that it’d take us both, and that he was going to tell the king what I am.
I panicked and my fire rose to protect me.
Archer must have felt my guilt and sorrow through our bond, because he sent a gentle thought: I’m glad you killed that worthless male, or I would have done the job for you. You did what you had to. He’s not worthy of your thoughts, let alone your tears.
It’s still…it’s haunting. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stop the horrific images from replaying in my head.
I know. That’s because you’re a better fae than him. But don’t let that break you.
I clung to the comfort of his words.
And…I’m glad you’re all right. Not just for my own sake, Feathers.
Not for long, I imagine. Does your father know about our bond? Would he try to spare you?
This time, the pause was longer. I stood from my place on the floor, the world tilting a little and my legs shaking. If I didn’t get water and food soon, I’d be too weak to do much more than curl up on the questionable-looking cot in the corner of my cell.
I don’t think he will, Archer responded at last.
I approached my door, peering through the bars at the stone passage lit by flickering torches. Across from me, Archer was at the bars of his cell, watching me with earnest but weary green eyes.
“What are we going to do?” I whispered. My voice came out raspy, each word painful in my parched throat.
His words were firm and confident in my head. We’re going to find a way to escape.