“Did you really think you could disobey my commands and scorch my flesh, tear down my home and set yourself against me, and not be made to pay?” Avalkyra asked idly.
Anger boiled in her veins, fizzing and crackling against her skin, while her ears filled with a distant buzzing sound. It took her a moment to realize the noise wasn’t her own rage consuming her, but the Eyrie’s occupants filling the tiers above like an audience inside an amphitheater or spectators at the solstice festival games. As Ignix had so recently reminded them, traditional terms dictated that allies for either champion were not allowed to fight each other during or after the challenge, nor to interfere with the challenge itself.
The ruins of Aura are not your home, daughter of Ashfires, Ignix said, her voice weak in Avalkyra’s mind. That is Axura’s domain, and there is no more fire in you.
“There’s more fire in me than in a thousand phoenixes,” Avalkyra snarled.
Once, perhaps, Ignix said simply. Now, you are the ashes, the dregs.… You’re what’s left.
“That’s right,” Avalkyra said tightly, adjusting her spear so the obsidian point gleamed in the nearby torchlight. “I am the darkness between the stars, the shadow that looms larger than the light—I am Nox reborn and the Dark Days come again.”
Her words reverberated off the soaring walls and caused silence in their wake, like a bell recently struck.
“There is a new apex in the world,” she continued, as Onyx increased the pressure on Ignix’s throat. “And she belongs to me.”
Heat began to billow out from the phoenix, her chest glowing brightly from within. Avalkyra lowered her spear, preparing for a torrent of flame to come rushing out her throat, but just as quickly as the fire came, it faltered. Ignix drooped, all the tension leaving her.
Smiling grimly, Avalkyra raised her spear—then out of nowhere, Ignix exploded upward in a burst of fire and sparks. It didn’t fill her chest or come spewing out from her beak as it had in Ferro, but it took Avalkyra and Onyx by surprise all the same. They flew backward, Avalkyra flailing to keep her seat, and Ignix darted toward the gallery.
Onyx didn’t let her get there. Instead she clamped her beak onto the phoenix’s gleaming tail feathers, causing Ignix to shriek in pain and come crashing back down. She whirled, snapping at them, but Onyx surged out of reach. Avalkyra took the chance to strike with her spear, landing a glancing blow across the phoenix’s chest. Steaming blood spurted from the wound, but it was too shallow to do much damage.
Still, it slowed her down, making her retreat sluggish and giving Onyx time to leap atop her and rake her talons into the phoenix’s exposed back. The crowd around them gasped and shouted, the phoenixes screeching their fury while the strixes crowed gleefully with avid, almost sick fascination. Every time Avalkyra drew blood or Onyx tore out feathers, their delight surged.
Their attention fed Avalkyra’s adrenaline and fueled her magic. This was what it meant to be part of an apex pair, to reap the benefits of dozens of bonds and the power therein. She was dominating, diminishing Ignix, the world’s first phoenix—the very creature that had used this ability against the strixes centuries ago. As if their collective memory led back to the dawn of time, the strixes responded to it. Reveled in it. The tables had been turned.
Avalkyra breathed deeply, their reverence like healing fumes or soothing incense. Like smoke after a blaze—both caustic and cleansing.
Despite being apex herself—somehow still bonded to her dead Rider all these centuries later—Ignix’s magic was weak, her power limited. It seemed that despite her position, she’d not demanded the loyalty of the phoenixes around her, as was her due. Perhaps she’d been gone for too long and her status was in question with this young flock.
Perhaps there were others they’d rather bow to.… No matter. Avalkyra could destroy Ignix, here and now, and the knowledge made her feel potent. Invincible.
The phoenix’s scarlet feathers were streaked with dirt and patches of gray from contact with Onyx, and her entire body seemed wilted. Steam rose from several slash wounds dealt by Avalkyra, but they were just playing with her at this point. There was a reason the Phoenix Riders were able to defeat the strixes during the Dark Days, and it was because together, human and animal were stronger than either was alone. Ignix had no bondmate—at least, not one living—and that made her weaker. She was apex, but her flock was not sworn to her.
Despite knowing she was outmatched, Ignix continued to resist, making another desperate dive for the gallery. Avalkyra thought she was fleeing, but then she realized the tactical advantage such close quarters would provide. They might allow Ignix to regain some measure of control, which meant they had to get to her first.
People were lined up along the walkway, watching with dread, but as Onyx gave chase and Ignix barreled toward them, everyone in their path fled—all save a few poor fools who simply ducked or cowered against the wall. A lone girl actually tumbled back into the passage where Ignix was clearly attempting to flee, which put her directly in harm’s way.
The phoenix made it into the tunnel mouth just as Onyx extended her talons. They met with stone, missing Ignix by inches, but the force of Onyx’s claws cut through the massive blocks like butter. The solid rock cracked and crumbled beneath her vicious swipes, shadows pooling and leeching into the masonry, reducing it to rubble and burying Ignix underneath.
In seconds the whole archway had collapsed, releasing a cloud of debris and an earsplitting, thundering crash, before abrupt silence.
Avalkyra sensed Ignix no longer.
Frustrated, Onyx swiped once or twice at the mess before coming to a landing atop the wreckage and shrieking. A chorus of strix replies broke out in response, and again the power in Avalkyra’s breast swelled. With a nudge, Onyx flew into the open, soaring in wide circles. All around, the strixes halted in their celebration to lower their heads as Avalkyra and Onyx passed.
Apex. Queen. Like Nefyra before her, but reshaped under Avalkyra’s will.
She breathed deep, relishing their attention and their submission. Even with a force as small as this, Avalkyra could terrorize the world. But she wanted more. And Ignix had taken that from her.
Perhaps she would not honor the challenge’s terms after all. Perhaps they should suffer for harboring the phoenix and trying to deny Avalkyra her prize.
She spotted Cassian among the crowds, his gaze intent. Watching, waiting for what she would do next.
“My queen,” came a voice from the gallery, scant feet away. Avalkyra squinted into the darkness, but soon a figure stepped out of the shadows and into the nearest torchlight. It was a woman, her steps irregular as she leaned on a wooden crutch to support a missing leg. She looked Pyraean, and her hair was braided—a female Phoenix Rider? She was old enough to have fought in the Blood War, but Avalkyra didn’t know her. Then she noticed the ink-dyed feathers in her hair. She might have survived, but her bondmate had not.
Still, she had called Avalkyra queen.
“I offer you my service,” the woman said, dropping laboriously to her good knee. Murmurs broke out around them, and Cassian’s expression tightened.
“And why should I want your service, wing widow?” Avalkyra asked, using a rather insulting term for a Rider who’d lost their mount.
The woman seemed unfazed. “Because I offer it not only on behalf of myself: Morra, Rider of Aneaxi, but also on behalf of my master, Ilithya Shadowheart.”
To her surprise, Avalkyra knew both those names. While Ilithya was her spymaster and pretend grandmother, the name Morra was familiar as one of Ilithya’s alleged informants.
“And what is the manner,” Avalkyra asked, glancing up at the restless crowd, “of the service you offer? I have no need for a cook.” She reeked of cinnamon and cooking oil, not to mention her flour-dusted apron. “Or a one-legged once-warrior.”
What about a shadowmage who studied bond magic, phoenixes… and strixes?
Avalkyra tried not to let her shock at being spoken to i
nside her mind show. I didn’t know strixes were studied in empire classrooms.
They weren’t, Morra offered with a small smile. But they were in the right empire temples.
Avalkyra was intrigued, despite herself. She wasn’t necessarily inclined to take this woman’s words at face value—shadowmage or no—but Ilithya chose her allies carefully, and Avalkyra was in need of exactly the kind of thing Morra might be able to give.
There was one way to find out.
What do you know about hatching strixes?
Morra glanced at Onyx. “She is apex?” she asked. Avalkyra nodded. “Then she will do it for you.”
Relief rushed through Avalkyra, powerful as the River Aurys, but almost immediately suspicion reared up to take its place. Above, the restlessness of the crowd intensified as they waited in fear for what would come next. The strixes grew fidgety as well, awaiting her orders. Avalkyra had to make a decision.
“Why are you offering yourself to me? There are others who might benefit from your expertise.…”
“When last we spoke, Ilithya demanded from me a simple promise,” she said. “That I would do whatever I could to see you on the throne.”
Avalkyra straightened in her saddle. The throne might no longer be the lure it once was, but the sentiment was the same. And Ilithya was right about one thing.… She could use a servant such as this.
“The Eyrie is mine,” Avalkyra announced, her words rising above her in the soaring space. With the prospect of expanding her flock restored, Avalkyra wanted to rid herself of them and their distraction. She wasn’t here to decimate their pitiable ranks; she had her sights set on bigger targets, and she wanted to meet them at full strength—both hers and theirs.
And she wanted Veronyka to be there when she did.
In the meantime, she had an army to build. They said any flock larger than a hundred was considered a horde, and Avalkyra intended to have one.
“You will leave at once,” she continued, “or suffer my wrath.”
The crowd scrambled to flee, and though Avalkyra held her flock in check, she did allow them to chase and snap at those who took too long or tried to fight back. She wanted these people to know they lived and died by her hand and her will alone. All the while, Morra remained on her knees beside her, the first of Veronyka’s supporters to turn.
Avalkyra suspected she would not be the last.
Distantly, a bell tolled, signaling evacuation.
Everything was falling into place. The next time she and the Phoenix Riders met, things would go very differently. There would be no escape, no surrender… and no survivors.
History has a way of repeating itself… even without intention or instruction.
- CHAPTER 13 - ELLIOT
ELLIOT STARED AT THE collapsed tunnel.
He kept replaying it all, over and over in his head.
After Ignix had flown away, Elliot snatched Sparrow’s abandoned spear off the ground before climbing into the saddle.
“Don’t,” he’d said to Riella, who was glowering at him. Yes, it had all been poorly done. He should have insisted Sparrow ride Jax too, even if his poor phoenix buckled under the strain or Elliot had to run after them on foot. He should have found a better way.
Riella didn’t heed his request. She reproached him the entire flight over the stronghold—preparing for an attack—and into the Eyrie.
“I know!” he’d finally said as Jax had landed in the chaos. “I’m going to fix it,” he’d promised. “I’m going to find her.”
But he’d barely gotten Riella off the saddle when the challenge had begun.
There was a Rider mounted on one of the black shadowbirds, and she was locked in a fierce battle with Ignix. The sounds of their shrieking fight—beaks snapping and talons flashing—echoed all around.
People watched, shocked and terrified, but Elliot had only one thought: If Ignix was fighting, where was Sparrow?
He dragged Riella over to Kade as soon as he’d spotted him. “Stay together.”
“Where are you going?” Riella asked as Kade took her hand.
“To find Sparrow.”
Stay here, he told Jax, who was perched on the balcony, watching the challenge with tense focus.
Elliot hadn’t been looking long before a scream had cut through the tumult.
He’d looked for Riella at first, again, but of course she’d been safe with Kade.
It was Sparrow who needed him—Sparrow whom he’d failed.
He’d spotted her then, the source of that scream.
Ignix had been flying hard toward one of the tunnel entrances, apparently attempting to take cover or establish a better position. The mounted Rider, who was clearly winning the battle, hot on her heels.
A collision had been imminent, only, there were people in the way.
People like Sparrow.
And while the others ducked and ran, Sparrow remained rooted to the spot, her face a mask of fear.
Elliot’s heart had twisted like a knife in his chest.
He didn’t remember deciding to run, but he had, knowing that Sparrow was too far away—that even if he reached her, he’d be too late.
“Sparrow!” he’d screamed, and her face had turned to his, lit as it always was when she recognized his approach: with brilliant, aching light.
But as her head turned, she lost her footing and stumbled—backward, into the tunnel. Into Ignix’s searing flight path.
Elliot had caught a single, momentary glimpse of Sparrow’s face—eyes wide with terror and his name on her lips—before Ignix crashed into her, the Rider just behind.
The tunnel collapsed, an avalanche of stone crashing down.
In seconds the rest of the structure had given way, rocks tumbling in an earsplitting roar, exploding toward him as he ran along the gallery.
“Sparrow!” Elliot cried again, the name torn from his throat, his eyes streaming and his lungs coated with dust. Despite his frantic efforts, the slide of debris had been stronger than a current, knocking him back, tearing his clothes and skin and leaving aching welts and bruises.
Now he stood, staring at the place she had been moments—seconds—before.
He was barely aware of the distant sound of bells, or the way the noise around him changed. No longer dark and triumphant, but panicked and frenetic. Booted feet, phoenix shrieks, and voices calling out to one another.
Beryk materialized in front of him. He was bleeding freely from a cut on his face and looked as if he could barely stand up. “What are you doing, lad? It’s time to evacuate.”
“You don’t understand—she’s inside. I have to—”
“There’s no time,” he said distractedly, waving and shouting to anyone he could see. “Evacuate! Take only what you need!”
But Elliot didn’t have what he needed.
Beryk pulled him by the shoulder, dragging him away from the tunnel before hurrying elsewhere. Elliot tried to turn around again, but then Riella was there, tugging on his arm. Her face was streaked with tears.
He felt like he was in some kind of daze. Jax was trying to get to him, to push his way through the chaos, but there was a swell of people and phoenixes blocking his path. The black birds circled above like carrion crows, and Elliot wondered how long they had before they started attacking again.
“Can you take her?” he asked Kade, whose bondmate stood just behind them. “Can she carry two?”
“No, Elly, I won’t leave you!” Riella objected, but Elliot ignored her.
Kade hesitated. “She can carry us long enough to get out of here. After that…”
“I’ll find you,” Elliot promised, squeezing Riella’s hand as Kade hoisted her onto his saddle. “Kade,” he said, just as they were ready to go. “That’s my sister.”
It was an obvious fact, but Kade seemed to understand what he meant. That she was precious to him, and Elliot was trusting her to his care. Kade nodded gravely, and then they were off in a gust of wings.
“Elliot!” came
Beryk’s voice again, this time from his saddle. He and several of the other mounted Riders were flying in low circles around the courtyard, keeping everyone on task. The evacuation protocol told them to regroup at Prosperity outpost, but not everyone here could fly. They’d be scattered and divided after this.
“Onto your saddle and into the air,” Beryk ordered. “Now!”
Elliot nodded, climbing numbly into his saddle as soon as Jax arrived. Only then did Beryk move on. The air was cold as they took to the night sky, and though Elliot closed his eyes, all he saw behind his lids was Sparrow’s look of fear as she’d called his name—begging for a rescue that wouldn’t come—before the deluge of stone buried her alive.
The world began with Ashfire queens.… Perhaps they will also be its destruction.
- CHAPTER 14 - VERONYKA
VERONYKA HAD NOT SLEPT well the night before. She hadn’t had any shadow magic dreams, exactly, but only because she hadn’t fallen into a deep enough sleep to actually make such a connection. But her restless night was plagued with the feeling of Val, with surges of magic and anger, of failure and triumph. It was an emotional tumult, interrupted with snippets from other minds, though they, too, seemed to be fraught with tension and upheaval.
She kept lurching awake, expecting to see… what? Val looming over her? Some trouble nearer at hand? Maybe it was those damnable farmers and their mob of Unnamed making Veronyka fear a raid at any moment.
She eventually gave it up for a lost cause and climbed from her bedroll, only to see Doriyan across their camp, sitting outside his tent in the predawn mist.
“Trouble sleeping?” he asked, as Veronyka made her way over, rubbing warmth into her cold arms. Xephyra and Rex had kept out the worst of the chill as they’d huddled outside her tent, but she missed the days when it was warm enough—and dry enough—to sleep outside with them. As it was, the air was damp and heavy from an earlier rain, her tent beaded with drops of moisture and the grass slick underfoot.
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