Chapter 36
Phoenix
We made camp deep in the woods beside a narrow stream of freshwater. Around us, the forest stretched in every direction—endless, shadowed, and still. It felt like a place time had forgotten.
I thought of Elle. Just a few nights ago, she had told me she loved me. And now...
Gods, I missed her.
Caelen had proven useful enough—he caught a couple of rabbits, cleaned them with quiet efficiency. I lit a small fire while he lay back, arms folded behind his head, eyes on the darkening sky.
The silence between us wasn’t awkward. But it was heavy.
We still hadn’t found Slade.
"So, tomorrow," Caelen said, not looking at me, "do we head back toward the garrison?"
"That area’ll be crawling with soldiers—Crown and Sentinel." I sighed, poking at the fire.
"We could try Velmere. That’s where the civilians were evacuated."
"I’m not leaving Slade."
"I get that. He’s your friend, but—"
"But what?" I cut in.
He hesitated. "But maybe you need to come to terms with the fact that he might not make it out here."
I snorted. "He fell off a cliff and still dragged himself through a godsdamned cave system to get to these woods. Slade’s alive. But he might be lost."
"Like us?" Caelen snapped.
"We’re not lost. I could find our way back if we needed to."
"Of course you could." His voice turned sharp. "Still so sure of yourself, aren’t you?"
"I am. And I know my friends. That’s the difference." I shot him a look. "But I get it—you’re pissy because you don’t actually know what that means. Do you even know what a friend is?"
Caelen sat up fast, his glare sharp. "I have friends, Phoenix."
"Right," I drawled. "Name one."
"Elira."
I barked a laugh. "Please. From what I saw—and what she told me—that ship’s already sunk."
"You know," Caelen said tightly, "you don’t have to be an asshole. I know that’s a big ask."
"You’re right. I can’t change what I am." I grinned. "And neither can you."
He rolled his eyes and lay back down, muttering something under his breath.
I shook my head and pulled Elle’s book from my bag. Caelen watched me.
"Is that..."
"The journal. Whatever it is."
"Any luck deciphering it?"
"I would if I could actually read it. There are symbols though, in the corners of the cover and the border. Tiny ones."
Caelen stood and stepped closer, peering over my shoulder. "Still looks like a blank page to me."
I pointed at the border—fine lines etched like smoke curling through frost. "You don’t see that?"
"No," he said, jaw tight. "It’s empty."
"Huh." I frowned. "Maybe it’s a magicborn thing."
He didn’t answer right away. Then: "When Ellie found it... she was bleeding. Some of it got on the pages."
My head snapped up. "You think it needs blood to activate?"
"Might be worth trying," Caelen said too quickly. "What have you got to lose?"
"Says the guy not offering up his own blood."
Caelen grinned. "Exactly."
I pulled out my blade and sliced my hand. A trickle of blood welled up. I hissed and pressed it to the pages.
"Brace yourself."
At first, nothing happened.
"Well, that was anticlimactic," I muttered.
But he wasn’t there.
And neither was I.
The forest was gone. The fire, the night, Caelen—gone.
I stood in a tower room overlooking the docks I knew too well. Duskfall. My hometown.
And there she was.
Elle sat at the edge of a narrow bed, small and folded in on herself. She wore a soft pink dress—too delicate, too wrong against her skin. Her fingers clutched that damn amulet like it was the only thing holding her together.
She rose slowly and walked toward the mirror on the far wall—ornate silver, too large for the room. In the low amber light, her beauty looked shattered. Her eyes, normally so fierce and bright, were flat. Empty. A bruise bloomed on one cheek. My stomach turned.
She stared at her reflection. Silent. Still.
Then she moved—flicking everything off the dresser in one sweep of her arm. Glass shattered. Bottles rolled. She yanked open drawers, hurling clothes, combs, scraps of paper. A pair of silver shears tumbled to the floor.
She snatched them up like they were a lifeline.
And then—she grabbed a fistful of her long black curls.
Snip.
One curl.
Then another. And another. Faster now. No rhythm. No plan. Just chaos.
She hacked at her hair like it was choking her. Like it was pulling her under.
The floor filled with curls.
Her breath came ragged. Shoulders shook. But she didn’t cry.
She was coming apart.
I stepped forward. “Elle—stop.”
She didn’t hear me. Didn’t see me. Just stared into the mirror like it held something she couldn’t reach.
Then she dropped. Collapsed to her knees. The scissors hit the floor with a clatter.
“Elle...”
Behind me, a door creaked open.
Her head jerked up. Not to me. To the mirror. Just for a heartbeat.
And I swear—she saw something.
She lunged for the amulet, clutched it tight to her chest. Her lips parted.
The vision shimmered.
The mirror cracked—no sound, just light. Then darkness.
I was gone.
And Caelen’s voice dragged me back like a slap to the face. “Phoenix!”
I gasped. Reeling. The book fell. The vision vanished.
"What the fuck was that?" Caelen demanded. "You were just... staring."
"I saw her," I rasped. "I saw Elle."
Then came the growl. Eyes blinked open in the dark—six, eight. Low. Gleaming.
Caelen cursed and reached for his blade. I lit my hands.
"Wolves?"
The creature stepped into view.
"Nope. Not wolves."
It looked wrong, that was my first thought.
Too long-limbed. Too bent. Skin slick and black, part fur, part scale. Its mouth split sideways and down, lined with jagged yellow teeth.
More emerged.
Ravagers.
The book pulsed beside me—cold, alive. Symbols blazing. The hum of magic rose.
Like it was drawing them in.
"Oh shit."
Caelen drew his blade.
"Phoenix, that book—shut it, burn it, throw it—whatever you just did - undo it!"
"You told me to bleed on it, jackass!" I shot back.
“Well clean it the fuck off, Phoenix! Or we are both dead!” The second creature came at Caelen from the side. He turned, barely in time, slicing through its shoulder. But there were more. Dozens. Circling. And every single one of them was looking straight at the book. Straight at me.
I backed up to the fire, breath sharp in my throat. “Caelen,” I said, my voice tight, “we don’t fight these. We run.”
His eyes flicked to the darkness. “You think they’ll let us?”
“I think,” I said, lifting the book higher, “we don’t have a choice.” And then I threw it into the flames. Flames roared up as it hit the centre of the blaze.
For a second, just one second, I thought it might work— then the fire recoiled. The flames twisted sideways, like something inside the book pushed them away. The logs cracked. Sparks shot up, sizzling—and the book just sat there, untouched. Glowing brighter. Feeding on the fire.
“Shit,” I breathed.
“It’s not burning,” Caelen shouted, backing toward me as two more creatures slithered from the brush, their eyes glowing dull and hungry.
“Yeah, no shit,” I growled, snatching it back.
Caelen’s blade lifted again, sweat shining on his temple. “Then next time, throw it in a lake or something!”
“Do you see a lake, Your Grace?” I snapped.
“Then chuck it! Into the woods—anywhere!”
“I can’t! It’s Elle’s—she needs this.”
“She needs us alive!”
“I know that! Just—fuck! I’m trying.”
Caelen grabbed the book and hurled it into the trees. It spun midair—then curved back like a godsdamn boomerang, landing at my feet with a thud. “Fuck.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” Caelen growled.
“Helpful as ever, Caelen.” I snapped, snatching the book again. I hurled it—harder this time. It still came back. Every damn time.
I stared at it, panting. “I guess it’s mine now.”
“Tell me this is the part where we run.” Caelen said
“Yup. Running would be good right now.”
We fled. But they cut us off.
Caelen slashed one down. Another lunged. I singed it with fire.
"They just keep coming!"
A new snarl. Louder.
The largest burst from the trees.
Too fast. I spun, ready to strike—but something else moved quicker. A flash of steel.
"Slade?!"
He crashed into the creature, blade driving deep. It gave a strangled cry before crumpling to the ground.
Slade turned to us, breath ragged. “Are you two always this godsdamned reckless?”
Then he staggered—and dropped.
“Slade!”
Caelen caught one arm. I grabbed the other. His weight sagged between us, heavy, bleeding.
The creatures crept closer—circling now. Jaws slack. Saliva stringing from their teeth like they could already taste us.
“We need to move. Now,” Caelen muttered, breath tight.
“To where exactly, your grace?” I shot back. “Straight into their mouths?”
No time to argue. I raised the book, half-thinking to throw it, half-hoping for a miracle.
They stopped.
All of them. Frozen mid-snarl.
Caelen’s eyes flicked to me. “What the hell was that?”
“I have no idea.”
Then the wind shifted—cold and sharp, like it knew something we didn’t.
And the howling started.