Chapter 31
Phoenix
Caelen and I tore through the ruins, chasing Elira’s path—but she was gone.
So was Thorne.
It didn’t bode well.
“Where is she?” Caelen shouted, spinning like he could summon her by sheer force of will. “Where is she, Phoenix?”
He grabbed my shirt. I shoved him back, breath ragged. “I don’t know!”
Gods, I should have known. I should’ve stopped her. I should’ve—
“Phoenix!”
Leo sprinted toward us, Maddie close behind. “The boats are ready—but we need to go. Now.”
Then we heard it.
Not war horns.
Departure horns.
I turned toward the sea, heart in my throat.
In the distance, sails were rising—dark banners stretched taut in the wind. Vael’s ships.
“Oh, fuck.” The breath punched out of me. Because there was only one reason they'd be leaving now.
“They have her,” I whispered.
“No.” Leo shook his head. “Slade wouldn’t... he wouldn’t let her go.”
His voice wavered. Trying to sound sure. Desperate to believe it.
“He wouldn’t,” he said again, like repetition could make it true.
But something in my chest curled and twisted.
My hands trembled. I rubbed my wrists, but the star-shaped mark on my palm throbbed—like it knew.
“Slade…” I breathed. “I can’t—”
The thought alone was too much.
Leo’s head snapped toward me. His eyes were wide. Pale.
“No.” He stepped back. “There’s no way. Not Slade.”
But the silence that followed...
None of us could say it.
None of us could bear to.
“We have to go after her. If they’ve taken her—”
“You and Maddie—stop the boat. If she’s on it, get her back.”
Leo blinked. “What about you?”
“General Marcus will handle the evacuation,” Caelen answered, already moving. “We’ll find Slade.”
“I refuse to believe he’s dead,” I said.
“What about Thorne?” Maddie asked.
“If you see him,” I said, my voice fraying, “stop him. By any means necessary. Even if…”
I didn’t finish.
Leo flinched, like the thought physically hurt. But he nodded. Maddie’s eyes were steel. No questions. No hesitation.
Leo grabbed her hand and they were gone—vanishing into the haze.
I stood with Caelen, smoke and ash spinning through the air. The scent of burning wood, blood, and salt clung to everything.
Caelen looked at me. “We’re really going after him?”
“We’re finding him,” I said. Because saying anything else would break me.
“What if we’re too late?”
“We’re not.” My voice was sharp. “We can’t be.”
He didn’t argue. Just adjusted the straps on his sword and took off down the western ridge, where cliffs gave way to ravines. I followed. Because standing still another second might tear me apart.
The trail was hell.
But I followed it to the ruins of an old outpost.
I knew we were in the right place.
The dirt was torn—scuffed, scattered. Like something had torn through here.
Worse—there was blood.
Still wet in places.
“She was here,” I muttered.
“Phoenix,” Caelen called.
I turned. He was at the cliff’s edge, staring down. I stepped beside him—and my stomach dropped.
Snagged on a gnarled branch halfway down the ravine, a length of gleaming steel swayed in the wind.
Slade’s.
The one that never left his wrist.
Caelen didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.
That one glint of metal said it all.
He fell here.
Or was thrown.
And my chest—it felt like it might cave in.
“We have to get down there,” I said, voice clipped.
“Phoenix—”
“You can go back if you want,” I snapped. “But I’m not leaving my brother down there. Not this time.”
Caelen studied me—like he was trying to read something buried too deep.
“And if he’s dead?”
The words hit like a fist.
I wanted to punch him.
Instead, I said, low and hard, “Then at least I’ll know.”
He didn’t answer. But his silence wasn’t empty—it echoed with guilt. The same guilt clawing through me.
We stared down the cliffside. Jagged rock. Swirling mist. Too many shadows. Too many places he could’ve fallen. Too many chances we were already too late.
I stopped at the ledge and let the wind cut through me.
Where are you, Slade?
Please.
Hold on.
Just hold on.