49. Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Eight
Archer
Coraline called Cliff up first. The male’s eyes widened in surprise as he stepped forward, as if shocked that the goddess of life would care to give him the time of day.
She spoke to him in whispered tones too soft for me to make out before withdrawing a tin cup from one of the pockets of her robes.
She pressed it to the tree, where sap oozed from a spile.
Cliff took the cup with a shaking hand, pressing it to his lips and drinking.
He followed Coraline’s gesture toward the tree, stepping forward.
There was something like mist forming at its base now, swirling gently as if a living thing. It reminded me of Mortius’ shadows, but softer, brighter. Cliff walked to it unflinchingly, stepping into the mist…and vanishing.
Panic stifled my air flow. The goddess of life wouldn’t harm my friends…would she?
Then again, everyone knew the gods were mercurial beings, every last one of them.
Vithenna may have been the one to grant us all life, but that didn’t exactly mean she was always gentle or kind.
What if the one who’d given Cliff life had decided his time was up?
What if this was all some elaborate trick, a game purely for her entertainment?
My skin went hot as sweat trickled down my spine.
Only a few minutes later, I blinked and Cliff was back, looking dazed but physically fine.
Coraline wasted no time, calling Lily next, then Owen. Lily left looking a little weepy, but she shook her head when Owen tried to ask her about it. Owen’s face was stoic as usual when he returned from his time with the goddess. Slowly, the tension in my body eased. It was going to be all right.
Yet when Coraline called Isoria’s name, something in my gut twisted.
It reminded me of my purpose here—to break the bond and send Isoria home.
There was no question that it was the right thing to do, to save her and let her return to a people who desperately needed her, but selfishly, I ached to think of never seeing her again.
This is how it’s meant to be, I told myself firmly. Something cracked in my heart, but I ignored it. My feelings didn’t matter when it came to her survival, her well-being. I’d shatter myself into a thousand tiny pieces a million times over if it would save her. She was worth the cost—any cost.
Isoria
As I stood beside Coraline beneath the tree’s boughs, she placed a cold hand against my forehead and murmured a chant under her breath in the ancient language of the gods, one forbidden for all but their dedicated worshippers to learn or utter.
She lifted the tin cup she’d offered to my friends beforehand, pressing it to the spile in the tree, letting more sap flow in.
When she offered it to me, I lifted it to my lips without hesitation. This was my chance to save my people at last, and I would not shy away from it. The syrup was thick and too-sweet, but I swallowed it, returning the cup to Coraline, and approached the mist surrounding the tree with sure feet.
For a long moment, I was enveloped in nothing but white mist, like I was trapped within a cloud, suspended in the air without my phoenix wings surrounding me.
Light appeared, flickering in a way similar to firelight but without the warmth.
It shifted from white to blue to violet to a flaming red.
Energy hummed through the air, making the hairs on my arms stand and my chest vibrate with the sound.
My ears popped as it rushed over me like a physical sensation.
And then—quiet. The noise vanished. The colorful lights were gone, as if snuffed out by an invisible hand.
Slowly, new light appeared in shades of gold and silver, seeming to dance before and around—and perhaps even come from within the female standing before me. It was ethereal, almost blinding.
Clothed in a shimmering gown that hugged her curves and trailed behind her, she walked barefoot toward me along the mist, like she was walking weightlessly upon a cloud.
Her gown hung off her shoulders and left the rest of her arms bare, exposing the toned muscle and golden hue of her skin.
Though she bore no weapon, power emanated from her so perceptibly that it made my knees quake just to look at her.
Her eyes were as piercing blue as the daytime sky, and her hair fell in shades of blue and white, red and orange, gold and violet, an ever-shifting array of colors. Full lips quirked in a smile, but it was sardonic, as if she found some hidden irony or jest in our presence.
Dread squirmed in my stomach, and I dropped to my knees, finding that the misty substance beneath me was indeed as soft as a cloud, but it supported my weight.
Tilting her head, Vithenna turned toward me, arching a brow. She didn’t speak, but it gave me the unnerving sense that she was reading my thoughts.
“You have questions,” she said, her voice rich and deep yet also somehow feminine and airy.
Swallowing, I permitted myself to meet her eyes, full of fathomless wisdom. She looked ageless, her skin perfect and unblemished yet her eyes full of infinite lifetimes.
“Yes. My people are losing their magic and dying. I don’t know why or how to stop it. Please, I need to know: Can you help us?”
Vithenna tipped her head, assessing me, before holding out her hand. I blinked in confusion. “Take my hand,” she said, “and let me show you something.”
Hesitantly, I placed my palm in hers. Instantly, the misty world around us vanished. I could still feel my body kneeling in that cloudy space, but a new world overtook my vision.
Instead, it was like I was standing on a crowded street in Rainsong, the moon cloaked in clouds and smoke.
The tang of ash burned the back of my throat as I scanned the gathered onlookers.
Shrieks shattered the night but the crowd didn’t flee.
It was as if, despite their terror, they felt the need to watch, either out of respect toward their king or out of a need to see the chained female brought to justice.
Behind the female, a roaring fire devoured a home.
“You killed them!” someone was screaming. “You killed them all!”
Others were weeping, their shoulders wracked with their sobs.
My wild eyes tracked the flames, finding a neighboring house was also ablaze.
Another. A fourth. A fifth. My heart stuttered as I realized an entire row of houses was burning.
The flickering orange and red light cast over everyone in the street was eerie, painting the tears tracing cheeks in shades of blood.
“I’ll kill all of you if that’s what it takes!
” the prisoner roared, her pale eyes wide and remorseless, gleaming with a bloodlust that chilled me to the bone.
Her azure hair was plastered to her skull with sweat and blood, like she’d been injured while trying to escape—or had harmed others in the process.
“I’ll burn Emberglade to the ground! Destroy you all! We all will.”
“Kill her,” King Wystan barked to the small form at his side. “Dispense justice for our innocent dead, son.”
Young Prince Archer, his hair a shock of gold in the darkness and his mouth set in a tight line, stepped forward.
I closed my eyes as he ordered the female to take the dagger he’d extended toward her and slit her own throat, but it didn’t block out the gruesome gurgling or the thud of her body.
The onlookers cheered and shouted. “Death to the fire demons!” came their cries, and for once, I didn’t only feel their fear or indignation.
I understood their pain.
More scenes followed, flashing by with equally disturbing images. They showed phoenixes either retaliating when cornered by their hunters or lashing out in rage against King Wystan’s decree—it hardly mattered when I watched innocent lives being taken.
My stomach churned.
Then came a new vision, one in an unfamiliar place of green grass and warm sunshine, where the light was infinitely brighter, more colorful and vibrant, and the earth around me seemed to hum with life.
There were flowers blooming, fruits gleaming, and animals lounging or playing everywhere I looked, along with glimpses of beings as awe-inspiring and flawless as Vithenna.
“They have to be stopped, Solea.” This was Vithenna’s voice, sharp with annoyance as she approached a female with hair the color of living flames. Solea.
Solea glanced up. With each of her movements, the shades of her hair shifted, an ever-varying array of fiery locks.
Her eyes were molten gold, her features strong and proud.
Plucking a nearby flower off its stem, Solea twirled it between her fingers as she narrowed her eyes at Vithenna.
“I thought we agreed to no longer interfere in the affairs of those on the mortal plane. We aren’t strong enough to withstand time in their world now that we’ve moved on. Our work is done.”
“Hardly,” Vithenna bit out. “First, an imposter not recognized by the land—not of the bloodline we chose—murdered the royal family and stole the throne. And now he’s slaughtering. He and your phoenixes.”
“My phoenixes are healers. Talk to Sanvo. He worked with me to bless them with that nature.”
“You made them too powerful,” Vithenna complained.
“You worked with me to create their magic as well,” Solea added, crushing the petals in her grasp. “If they’re killing, perhaps it’s to stop your murderer king and restore justice and peace to our kingdom. They will do what’s right. Their magic is opposed to death.”
“Their magic works with death,” Vithenna retorted, crossing her arms. “And now there’s entirely too much of it.
The land will never recognize that usurper king or his offspring.
We need to stop him and set things right.
I’m going to purge the kingdom, and you’re going to help me by punishing the phoenixes.
I’ve already spoken to Sanvo to weaken their healing powers. ”