Wings of Shadow

by Nicki Pau Preto

  Rex nodded fervently. Tried to help people. Made mistake. Rex still trust. Tristan still trust.

  Those words twisted in Veronyka’s stomach like a knife. Trust was a wonderful gift and a terrible burden. She had given Val her trust over and over again.… Was it her fault for bestowing it, or Val’s for betraying it?

  She recalled their first dream-conversation and what she’d said to Val: I could have helped you… if you’d let me. If you’d trusted me in turn.

  But Val had never trusted her. She’d accepted Veronyka’s vulnerability but refused to offer any of her own. That was the difference.

  Veronyka gave as well as received—and so did Xephyra, and Tristan, and Rex. All she could do was try to be worthy.

  Come on, you two, she said, getting to her feet. Let’s go for a fly.

  * * *

  Sometimes it felt almost selfish or indulgent soaring through the air with two phoenixes, the stars glittering above and the world rolling out below. But even though it always made Veronyka feel better, she knew it made Rex and Xephyra feel better too.

  Lately she was able to feel Rex’s emotions almost as easily as Xephyra’s, and the satisfaction that surged through him during their flight told her that she gave him something he was sorely missing.

  Veronyka wasn’t Tristan, but a part of him remained inside her, thanks to their bond, and Rex liked to be near her because of it. And, of course, she liked to be near him for the same reason. Tristan’s presence felt stronger when they were together, as if their combined fragments were like puzzle pieces—once united, they were a more complete version of the whole.

  And of course Xephyra was also a part of that, the four of them magically entangled in ways Veronyka was still struggling to understand, though she knew the term.

  Mated pair.

  Or, at least, that was where they were heading.

  She sensed Rex and Xephyra sometimes, reaching for each other magically and physically—an echo or amplification of her own feelings for Tristan—and made sure to give them time alone. She was always there, of course, but she could withdraw. It wasn’t the same as putting up blocks or barriers.… It was more like respectful boundaries.

  But for tonight what they needed was to be together.

  Veronyka let them dictate their speed and style, and they chose an easy pace with leisurely pumps of their wings, riding air currents and soaring smoothly across the sky. After riding a while in Xephyra’s saddle, Veronyka walked across her bondmate’s outstretched wing until she stepped onto Rex’s wing instead, then settled onto Tristan’s saddle.

  Xephyra didn’t mind, taking the opportunity to shake out her wings and roll lazily through the air without concern for her Rider. Veronyka usually split her time between them, but tonight she had something specific in mind.

  It was late… late enough that wherever Tristan was, he was probably asleep. It was as good a time as any to try to connect with him, but she’d never tried it while riding Rex. Surely the magic that bound phoenix and Rider was most potent, most powerful, during flight? Maybe Veronyka could latch on to that, on to the piece of Tristan inside her that responded to Rex, and vice versa.

  She shared her thoughts with Rex, and he settled his flight into a steady rhythm, opening himself to her and his bondmate.

  Veronyka relaxed her mind and body, closing her eyes and running her hands absently along Rex’s feathers. She breathed in and out, in and out, and then there was a second set of lungs, a second heartbeat.

  Tristan? she whispered softly, not wanting to break the spell.

  In and out. In and out.

  There was something there, distant, but growing stronger.

  Her breath hitched—she was losing it.

  She clenched her eyes and stilled her body, trying to ground herself in the moment, in the connection.

  She was on Rex’s back, the wind in her hair, feathers under her fingertips.

  Feathers, smooth to the touch. Silken to the touch. Icy to the touch…Veronyka reared back, but too late. Coldness had settled over her, and she knew that the heartbeat she’d felt, the breaths she’d shared, did not belong to Tristan at all.

  This isn’t a good time, Nyka, Val said distractedly. I’m hunting.

  Veronyka bit back a curse. Despite her frustration, the words unsettled her. Hunting who? she asked warily.

  Your little spy, of course.

  This again? Did Val really think she’d sent Ignix after her? I’m not spying on you! I don’t care what you do.

  Val grinned; Veronyka could feel it as if her own lips were pulling back from her teeth. I’ve heard you say this kind of thing before, Veronyka. You always come looking for me eventually.

  Veronyka thought of her disastrous mistake to follow Val to Ferro. Not this time, she said.

  I guess we’ll find out, won’t we? Val’s tone was dark and detached in a way that made unease coil in Veronyka’s stomach. We may see each other sooner than you think.

  Sooner than I want, Veronyka snapped back, but Val was already gone.

  Veronyka shook her head. She had vowed to let go of Val, to embrace her power and leave the burden of her past behind, but it wasn’t that simple. Val wasn’t just her past; she was her present and, quite possibly, an obstacle to her future.

  Xephyra nudged questioningly at Veronyka’s mind: She could feel Val through their bond, but she couldn’t fully follow their conversation. Val wasn’t open enough for that.

  Everything’s okay, Veronyka said. Xephyra feared Val was close in the physical sense, which she wasn’t.

  Was she?

  Veronyka cast her senses and her magic wide—but she felt nothing at all.

  Destined to fight as our mothers fought.

  Destined to destroy each other.

  - CHAPTER 10 - AVALKYRA

  AVALKYRA DIRECTED ONYX DOWN for a hasty landing.

  They had been flying for hours, and despite Onyx’s impressive size—growing larger and more powerful by the day—she was young and building up her stamina. The sun had still been up when Avalkyra had heard those cursed wingbeats again, and she and Onyx had been unsuccessfully chasing them ever since.

  It had been a shocking but gratifying revelation that the phoenix she had binded all those weeks ago was Ignix herself, at least according to Veronyka, and it only made sense that she was the creature haunting these ruins. The two of them had unfinished business.

  But now, thanks to Veronyka’s lack of control, they had lost their quarry entirely.

  Avalkyra waited impatiently as Onyx had a quick rest; then they returned to the city square.

  They’d taken up residence inside the same soaring temple Avalkyra had occupied during her previous stay in the ruins of Aura, a monstrosity of a building lined with carved marble pillars that rose to a ceiling so high, no light ever touched it.

  Avalkyra had thought it a strange place upon first discovery, because it had no windows at all. Most Pyraean architecture featured open-air oculi and wide windows and archways meant specifically for ease of access for phoenixes.

  Then it had hit her—this was a temple to Nox. It was evident, now that she was looking, in the Dark Days carvings and the choice of gleaming black marble for columns and accents. The lack of light was essential, the building meant as a house for the goddess of night.

  And a fitting place for Avalkyra to take residence as well.

  As they entered, ghostly echoes filled the silence, their every movement reflected and amplified. The scrape of a boot, the flap of a wing.

  And likewise, movements from above trickled down to them below. Distorted and unsettling. Ominous.

  Thrilling.

  She closed her eyes and listened, letting the sounds wash over her, but as she tried to envision her future—the actions against which these sounds would play like music—what she saw behind her closed lids was what she’d seen moments ago through Veronyka’s eyes… hills and valleys, trees and rocks, rolling out below her. She had been flying, too, but wh
ere?

  Avalkyra growled and opened her eyes. Veronyka’s magic was as wild as it had ever been, intruding upon her thoughts and reminding her forcibly, repeatedly, that they were bound in ways beyond her power or control.

  If anything, it was getting worse now that Veronyka wasn’t so afraid of her own magic, though her ineptitude remained the same.

  Unless… what if it wasn’t ineptitude at all? What if Veronyka had deliberately tried to butt into Avalkyra’s mind tonight, at the exact moment she’d been trying to seek out her spy? Avalkyra had assumed her distant, winged visitor was Ignix, but could it be Veronyka herself? No, surely Avalkyra would sense her nearness. Surely she would know.

  She closed her eyes again, seeking the images from Veronyka’s mind on purpose now. The landscape could be almost anywhere in Pyra, but it wasn’t rocky and barren enough to be anywhere near Aura at Pyrmont’s peak. But some instinct told Avalkyra that Veronyka was not on a simple patrol route or taking a leisurely flight around the Eyrie.

  She clenched her jaw and dug deeper, paid closer attention to what she’d glimpsed. It was hard to mirror over such a vast distance, and Avalkyra had managed it for only a heartbeat or two.… There. That thrust of rock—that copse of trees. Avalkyra knew them, had flown over them a hundred times on her way to one of her underground bases. Veronyka was somewhere near Rushlea. Had she sent the spy ahead while she waited farther down the mountain? Was she planning something even now? A move against Avalkyra?

  Sidra, she said, sending her magic wide. She wasn’t far—Sidra never went far.

  Yes, my queen?

  Go to Rushlea. Learn what Veronyka is doing there, and who else is with her.

  As you wish, she said at once, glad for a chance to serve, to prove her usefulness—to do anything that took her away from what Avalkyra was doing at the top of Pyrmont. Despite her enthusiasm, Sidra’s distaste for Veronyka shone through her obedience. Her jealousy was tiresome, but it afforded Avalkyra more control over her than would otherwise be possible.

  Do not touch or engage with her, Avalkyra added. She wanted Veronyka all to herself.

  She had barely vacated Sidra’s mind when another familiar awareness washed over her, one she associated with fire and failure. With rage.

  It looked like her quarry had found her instead.

  She whirled on the spot, blinking into the dark. The world outside her lair was visible through the arched door, silver with moonlight and dotted with stars, bright and clear compared to the black interior.

  That was until a winged shadow descended from the sky, obscuring the view.

  But she was no true shadow—she was a creature of light and life.

  “Ignix,” Avalkyra breathed, fists clenched at her sides.

  Avalkyra, Ignix returned, inclining her head. She took in the temple surroundings, but her gaze was not idle. It was focused. Determined. Avalkyra prodded at her mind, but the weakness she’d found there that had allowed her to place a bind was gone, her mental defenses strong and sturdy once more. It seemed she would not be caught unawares again. Daughter of Ashfires, why do you skulk in the shadows?

  What I do is no concern of yours, Avalkyra shot back, the scars across her face and arm tingling in remembered pain.

  Onyx was close by, but out of the phoenix’s sight behind a pillar. No doubt Ignix felt the strix’s presence and would notice her at any moment, but Avalkyra wanted her near enough to mount when that happened. If they were to fight, she wanted to be in the saddle. She wanted to participate. To make the phoenix bleed.

  And I do not skulk in the shadows, she said as Onyx stepped into view. I am the shadows.

  Ignix’s gaze snapped to Onyx, and Avalkyra felt her shock and revulsion, and somewhere underneath that, her fear.

  Oh, how Avalkyra loved the sensation of it… the way it filled her up like oxygen.

  She grinned and reached beyond Onyx, high into the rafters. She found them there, her shadows. Her future. Then she called them forth.

  Whatever music she’d heard before, the echoing space exploded with it now—a screeching, flapping, scraping assault on the senses. A waterfall. An avalanche.

  Ignix squawked in alarm, rearing back, but not before fixing Avalkyra with a last, piercing look. Daughter of Ashfires… you are well and truly lost.

  Then she burst into flame.

  Avalkyra was ashamed of the way she staggered back, stumbling behind Onyx, seeking some measure of shelter. Of protection.

  But Ignix wasn’t attacking her again. She was directing the flames not at Avalkyra’s tender flesh, but at the ground, the archway—the building itself.

  The stone billowed smoke, cracking under the heat, while the blaze licked and crawled, melting the centuries-old masonry. The fire rose up in a sudden, roaring wall of light, blocking any chance of pursuit as the phoenix tore off into the night.

  Blocking the only way out.

  The strixes swooped and scattered away from the burst of light, and Avalkyra stared at the flames so hard her eyes watered, her jaw ached, and her scars burned. I do not fear you, she said over and over in her mind—a litany, a prayer.

  Distantly, somewhere outside, a creaking, groaning sound filled the silent night. There was a pause—a weighted breath—then a crash that shook the ground beneath Avalkyra’s feet. She stumbled into Onyx, gripping her feathers hard enough to tear them out by the root.

  Another crash, another rolling rumble that vibrated through the floor and caused dust and debris to rain down from above. Squawks and rustling echoed all around.

  Enough, Avalkyra gritted out, leaping into Onyx’s saddle. The strix was both unnerved and entranced by the flames. She wanted to taste them. To touch them.

  She wanted to stamp them out.

  The rest were the same, utterly transfixed by the sight but wary, too. Uncertain.

  Through, Avalkyra barked, leaning low in the saddle. Onyx hesitated, but Avalkyra did not leave room for debate. THROUGH THEM NOW!

  Onyx took a running, stumbling start, but after several pumps of her wings, they were in the air and on the other side.

  Avalkyra gasped for breath, her clothes scorched and smoking. The scent was enough to turn her stomach, but she fought the heaving spasms down. She searched the ruins for Ignix, but saw only what she had done.

  The archways that lined the Everlasting Flame had been knocked down one after the other, their massive blocks of stone landing inside the gaping pit, burying it. There had been thirteen archways, each dedicated to one of the First Riders and their mounts. There should have been fourteen, of course, but Ignix had never died. Barely a wisp rose from the once-smoking surface; all that remained of the Everlasting Flame was a pile of rocks. Still, silent—but not empty. Not vacuous and hungry. Just a ruin like everything else.

  A buzzing filled Avalkyra’s ears. No more strixes would be hatched there. No more soldiers for her army. Her future snuffed out in an instant by the same cursed firebird that had nearly killed her once before.

  Avalkyra scanned the sky, fury boiling in her belly, replacing the bile.

  There, a disappearing dot among the stars, moving ever farther away.

  Ignix.

  To me, Avalkyra ordered. Onyx opened her beak and shrieked, summoning them. All of them. She was Apex Master, and they belonged to her.

  They were not the army she’d intended, but they were army enough for this.

  They burst forth from the temple, fearless in the wake of Onyx’s command, even though some of them caught fire and fell to the ground. The others leapt upon them, whether to devour their fallen brethren or to smother the flames, Avalkyra didn’t know. Didn’t care.

  Onyx took to the sky, following Ignix like a beacon, a signal—their north star.

  Behind them, the air filled with wingbeats, their flight the music Avalkyra had craved.

  It was the sound of death and fury.

  It was the sound of vengeance.

  Was it always going to come down to this? Sister again
st sister? Daughter against daughter?

  Darkness against light?

  - CHAPTER 11 - SPARROW

  SPARROW HAD GONE RIDING with Elliot every day since their first flight together.

  He always asked Riella first—even though she always said no—but Sparrow understood. Riella was his sister, more important to him than anyone. Sparrow was just glad she was his second choice. Better than being no choice at all.

  Tonight she and Riella were outside the village when Elliot found them. Riella noted his approach as she combed through the matted fur of a fox that had wandered across Sparrow’s path seeking help. As Riella dug out the stubborn burs caught in his tail, Sparrow crooned and conversed, keeping the chatty fellow calm. They were surrounded by a ragtag group of critters, including Fine Fellow, her raven friend, and Carrot the cat.

  Elliot sat next to them, crunching the grass underfoot and setting up a gust of air that smelled sweet and damp with yesterday’s rain. Before he could open his mouth, Riella put him to work.

  Sparrow liked Riella very much.

  “Hold this,” she ordered. Judging by the fox’s annoyance and the lash and flick of fur, Sparrow guessed she was handing him the creature’s tail. “I said hold it, Elly.”

  Elliot made an impatient noise in his throat at the nickname, though he didn’t tell Riella not to use it.

  Sparrow smiled, telling the fox to give the poor boy a break, before extending her senses wide. There was an uneasiness on the air, a kind of pressure that she had trouble placing or understanding. Maybe more rain was coming. Maybe something else.

  Once the fox was tended—leaping out of their laps and darting after the other animals gamboling in the grass—Riella again denied Elliot’s offer of a flight. Jax hopped forward at once, eagerly nudging Sparrow instead.

  “Oh, all right, you great, needy creature,” she said, grinning indulgently. Jax, meanwhile, shook himself like an overexcited puppy, his buckles and loops jangling loudly.

  Riella laughed, the clatter of glass and ceramic telling Sparrow she was bent over and packing up her supplies.