The Eternal Dusk (Daughter of the Phoenix Book Two)

by Victoria J. Price

  Fia thought of Alythia, the home of the angels, as she settled beneath a blanket for the night in a tent where Runa had insisted on standing guard. Alexander had shown her Alythia once, safely hidden amongst the clouds, and Fia’s heart sank at the thought of going there for the first time without him. She’d imagined him taking her there, and how happy they’d be. But that was just a fantasy and this, this was really happening. The sun was dying, Erebus had returned, and she could do something to help.

  The reality was, she might never see Alexander again.

  Chapter Five

  Fia

  D aylight never broke past the shadow of dawn. A soft glow covered everything as Fia packed her things to leave. She held a hand to her eyes and looked towards the sun.

  “This is as bright as it gets,” Noor said beside her.

  “Any word from Alexander?” Fia asked, testing her arm where the witches had healed it. Her elbow was tight at the joint, but she could still throw a strong hook. Good enough. There was no point in checking for a scar, there were too many on her arms to count.

  Noor raised an eyebrow as she finished braiding her hair and flicked it over a shoulder. “The moment I have news, you will know it.”

  He had to be okay. Fia felt it—at least she had to believe she did. She closed her eyes and thought of Alexander’s blue eyes gazing back at her, of the warmth of his skin and how he carried the scents of the forest. She ran her fingers along the engraving of the cuff he’d given her. He’s coming back.

  “Everybody ready?” Fia’s eyes opened to the sound of Runa’s voice.

  Smoke from a campfire blew towards them, and Fia swatted it away. “How long will it take?” Her nerves tried to push their way to the surface but knowing she could help—that she could make a difference, calmed her fears.

  “It’s been harder and harder to return to Alythia. As the sun dies… it’s as if the sky spirits don’t want us to go back there. It could take a few hours, or it could take us all day, it really depends on how lucky we are.” Runa said.

  Why wouldn’t the sky spirits want the angels to go home? Fia swiped aside a branch as they made their way through the forest towards Arion. The canopy broke every now and again, but the dim light remained even when there was nothing but clouds to look up to. Witches and Makya sat around tents, a low hum of conversation accompanying the crackling of their campfires. Ferns and bushes filled the spaces between tents and trees, and a few winding pathways had been trodden down amongst them. It was colder since her last visit, and Fia had pulled her green jumper on as soon as she’d woken up, tucking in her little pouch of witch stones. She didn’t know when she might need them again, but they felt like a good luck charm, nonetheless.

  She thought of all she knew about the sky spirits—how they protected the skies above Ohinyan, and the angels’ home. How they led the angels back to Alythia. She thought of Oren, Runa’s nephew who had betrayed them all and died at the hands of the Makya. Could the sky spirits be trying to protect Alythia from its own kind?

  Arion whinnied as they approached. He was in the clearing where they’d left him, scraping a hoof against the forest floor.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind two of us hitching a ride?” Fia glanced from Arion to Noor.

  Arion knelt on his forelegs and dipped his head low to the ground. He said nothing as he blew a clump of black mane from his eyes.

  Noor laughed beside Fia. “I think that’s our cue.”

  Fia sat closest to Arion’s mane, and Noor sat behind her, just as they had when Fia had caught Noor leaping from a Makya airship before it exploded not too long ago. “Let’s hope this is a smooth ride,” Fia said, a smile tugging at her lips.

  Runa leapt from the springy moss first, pushing her wings wide the moment she breached the canopy. Arion followed, a short canter and he soared, beating his wings harder and harder until they were airborne, in close pursuit of the angel.

  Fia wiped her sleeve against her streaming eyes as Arion flew into the wind and above the clouds. Orange and pink flooded the sky, turning everything into a dreamscape in the half-light.

  “How long has the light been like this?” she called out to Noor over the wind.

  “Not long. One day the sun rose as normal, the next was like this. It has taken some adjustment, as you can imagine,” Noor replied.

  Fia tried to imagine the devastating effects of a world without its sun. Freezing temperatures, total darkness, no food. Even with intervention, it felt like a losing battle. But there had been another sun before the one gloomily hanging over them now—she’d been told as much. It had to have been reborn, somehow. If a sun can be born.

  She sank into the rhythm of Arion’s beating wings and focused on Runa’s silhouette in the skies ahead of them. Every now and then the angel would change direction or double back. Once or twice she flew back to them to voice her frustration.

  “I thought I had them a moment ago, but then the wind changed, and I lost them. It’s so peculiar,” she said, her wings still as she floated on a pocket of air.

  The angels made flying look so effortless, and Fia had often found herself wishing for her own pair of feathered wings. “They were nothing more than the chiming of a bell when I heard them last time,” Fia called out. “Is that what we’re listening for, bells?”

  Runa tilted her head to listen. “There,” she said, and spiralled away from them, her wings beating hard as she followed the sound. Arion stayed close behind.

  A shimmer of gold seemed to hang in the sky, and as they flew closer Fia could make out the silhouettes of upturned mountains, of forests and hills surrounding a city. Alythia.

  But they weren’t making their way to the city just yet. Runa flew on towards the base of an upturned mountain, a waterfall cascading off the plateau above—the water falling into nothing. There was no foliage here, only light brown rock and flowing water. Arion followed Runa behind the waterfall, where a platform of wet rock gave him enough space to touch down.

  “The Shadows are not fond of us coming near their nests,” Runa shouted over the rushing of the water, the spray flattening her hair against her face. “Fia, you may need to climb the rest of the way.” She inclined her head to an outcrop beyond, and Fia could make out the black masses of the great birds huddled in their nests between rocks—with nothing but air beneath them.

  “I will accompany you,” Noor said, wiping the spray of water from her face.

  Runa seemed satisfied with that. “Arion and I will be waiting, if anything goes wrong or if you lose your footing, we’ve got you.”

  Fia wasn’t afraid of heights. But rock climbing above the clouds of Ohinyan wasn’t exactly what she’d choose to do with her spare time. A pungent smell, like a rotten animal, permeated the area behind the waterfall, so she didn’t need prompting to get back out into the open. She scooped her hair back into a tighter bun and led the way out onto the rock face.

  From the periphery of her vision, Fia could make out Arion and Runa as they dived below. A winged horse and an angel for a safety net. She coughed back a hysterical laugh as Noor pointed out a route across the rocks.

  Smaller pieces of rock floated beside the one they climbed across, and every now and again Fia was able to reach out and rest with her weight safely balanced. Wind whipped at her cheeks as she reached out for something to grip onto, the sharp rocks biting into her fingers.

  There wasn’t far to climb. The nests were concealed from the waterfall, but up close Fia saw that they were not so terrifyingly perched as they’d first seemed. Instead, a ledge opened up beneath them, and Fia and Noor jumped down a few metres away from the great black birds.

  “May we speak with you?” Fia called out, unsure how to address a Shadow, or how wide a berth they should keep. Too close, and the bird’s enormous wings could swipe them off the ledge into nothingness.

  Heads twitched in their direction, but many of the birds simply remained huddled against the wind. Fia took a few tentative steps closer to
the nests—thin tree branches and leaves twisted in and out of each other. One bird cawed in alarm, but the rest remained silent.

  Her palms were hot and itchy, and she rubbed them against her thighs. She chanced a look over the side of the ledge, just as Arion circled beneath them. She hoped he was confident in his catching skills. “I’m coming closer,” she said against the wind, more for Noor’s sake than anything else.

  A bird stepped out over the edge of the nest and folded its wings against its sides. Its feathers were jet black, its scrawny legs ending with three black, razor-sharp claws. It moved no closer but turned its head left and right, the large rounds of its eyes examining Fia and Noor as they approached.

  Fia stepped close enough that she could see her reflection. “My name is Fia, and this is the Lady Noor.”

  “We know who you are. Even though you do not yet know yourself,” the Shadow said. It cawed as if in response to one of the birds calling out from the nests beyond. “Why have you come here?”

  Did she know herself? Fia supposed she didn’t, really. She’d been trying to work that out since Sophie died, and being in Ohinyan had made her feel, well, better. That was partly why she knew she had to come back before she’d even seen the fox. “What can you tell us of the dying sun?” Fia asked. She tried to keep her voice steady but wasn’t sure how much longer her composure would last. A heavy knot of anxiety had settled deep in her stomach. Beyond the bird standing before them, others shuffled in their nests, eyeing them in silence.

  The Shadow adjusted its wings. “We remember the setting of the first sun and the time that passed without it.” It looked out into the clouds, and Fia followed its gaze. A dusky pink haze hung over everything. “We did not know when it would rise again. But Terah’s descendent rekindled it from the ashes, and the second sun brought with it a dawn brighter than any we have ever known.” A small cry came from beyond the Shadow, and the fluffy head of an infant popped up over the side of the nest before being ushered down by another of the great birds.

  “Terah’s descendent? You mean the fire mother?” Fia knew what the Shadow described—a witch had explained it to her the last time she was in Ohinyan. It was Ohinyan’s creation story: a phoenix bore a winged son—Gabriel, the first angel, and a daughter with the power to wield fire, to become it—Terah, the fire mother.

  “Many names describe the descendent of Terah, as Terah once used many names to describe herself.”

  They were doomed then. “But she—Lorn—she’s… a renegade Makya.” Fia began. “A fire wielder. She launched attacks across all of Ohinyan. Erebus… he twisted her thoughts, corrupted her, there’s no way she’ll help. No one even knows where she is.” Corrupted her. Fia brushed aside the thought that there could be anything that made her like Lorn.

  Noor stepped up beside her—Fia had almost forgotten she was there. But the witch remained silent, her attention fixed on the remaining Shadows and every now and then, darting back to the rocky ledge behind them that fell away to nothing.

  “As the caterpillar ends to become the butterfly, the fire mother will emerge to rekindle the sun in Ohinyan’s moment of need,” the Shadow replied.

  Fia turned to Noor and paraphrased the bird’s words for her. “Is that meant to be a riddle? What am I supposed to do with that?” She hated riddles. The Shadows were old, ancient even, but there was no time to waste, and Fia had sensed everyone’s urgency the moment she’d returned to Ohinyan.

  Noor’s brow creased. “I’m sorry, I have no idea.”

  The witches had told her all they’d known. Or so Kharsee, Noor’s coven leader had said. “What do you mean, rekindle the sun?” Fia asked the Shadow.

  “The fire mother will know what to do. Is there anything else you wish to ask of me?” The bird tilted its head again and began preening the feathers of a wing.

  “We need to help the people and creatures of Ohinyan when the sun dies, and to warn them about Erebus, can you help us?”

  The Shadow ceased its pecking and looked up at them once more. “We are not a welcome sight across Ohinyan. Many fear us. What you ask of us would not bear any fruit. Seek out the Tahjiik, they will assist you.”

  There wasn’t time to go halfway around Ohinyan searching for something. They had to act fast. “Does the Tahjiik mean anything to you?” Fia asked, looking at Noor.

  “They are nothing more than a whisper—a story of a people who once were. But if the Shadow says they still exist, then they must.” Noor’s gaze never stopped darting as she spoke.

  Fia turned her attention back to the Shadow, who had begun cawing to the birds in the nests and flickering its wings impatiently. “What do you know of Erebus? Is there anything that can be done to stop him?” The other birds were frantic, pacing their nests and flapping their wings but Fia saw no sign of what had disturbed them.

  The Shadow spread its wings and flapped them up and down, pushing a gust of wind towards Fia and Noor.

  “Erebus is here,” the bird cried.

  There was nothing in the skies behind them, no indication of what they’d seen, but Fia felt their fear and it wrapped itself around her spine. “We know he escaped; we want to stop him. Do you know a way?”

  “Erebus is here!” the Shadow flapped its wings again, and this time the force of them swept Fia and Noor back, dangerously close to the precipice. The other Shadows were cawing and crying and flapping their wings. “Erebus is here! Erebus is here!” the Shadow cried, and the others began to chime in with it. “Erebus is here!” Yet still, Fia could see nothing that had disturbed them.

  “Fia, Noor, time to go,” Runa flew up from below, followed by Arion, who touched down on the ledge beside them. Fia jumped on first and reached out a hand for Noor, but as she did the rocky ledge crumbled beneath Arion’s feet and he took off into the air. Fia grabbed hold of his mane with one hand and swung down for Noor with the other, clutching her arm just as the ledge fell away beneath her. Runa was beside them at once, heaving Noor up on to Arion’s back.

  “Alythia is under attack,” Runa breathed as she made certain Noor was securely seated.

  Arion followed her as she swooped around the rocky outskirts of Alythia, up over the waterfalls and forests and towards a golden city in its centre.

  “Erebus is here,” Fia whispered to herself. “Erebus is here!” she cried out. “It’s him, he’s here.”

  As they flew closer, balls of flame shot through the sky and streamed down around the city like fireworks. Alythia, the angels’ home above the skies of Ohinyan—symbol of peace and light—was burning.

  Chapter Six

  Alexander

  E very window they searched for was gone. There was no way back to Ohinyan—not in London, anyway. A knot of anxiety twisted in Alexander’s stomach. Erebus could be there now, causing chaos and destruction—the people and the creatures were all at risk. The angels had a duty to protect the inhabitants of Ohinyan, and it was Alexander’s responsibility to lead them. But two worlds were at stake here, not just one.

  And where was Fia? Had she made it back safely? Alexander examined his wing where Hazel had healed it. You’ll see her again. Hazel had assured him Fia would be fine, but the fact that the window from the Atlantis bookshop had closed along with the others did little to calm his fears.

  “Sire?” Halvar climbed in through Fia’s bedroom window. They’d been using her flat to meet between searches and releasing spirits. They still had a duty to uphold to the dying, after all.

  “Any news?” Alexander asked as Jo burst in through the door. The timing was not lost on Alexander—nor was the matching dark tinge of mud on Jo’s boots and Halvar’s bare feet, or the way Halvar’s gaze remained on Fia’s friend for a few moments.

  Halvar pulled his gaze away from Jo. “None, I’m afraid. I’ve not seen another angel either.”

  “Neither have I,” Jo added.

  Alexander rubbed at the stubble under his chin. “All the windows I know of are sealed. We need to widen our search if
we are to find a way back.” He’d never been outside of London before—other angels would have different locations they’d travel to. “But Halvar…” Alexander was pacing, his wings too large for the small space of Fia’s flat.

  “Yes, sire?”

  “If the Eternal Dusk are imprisoning angels, I cannot leave without freeing them. I need your help.” If there are any left to be saved. He dismissed the thought. Now was not the time to let worry creep in.

  “Of course he’s bloody helping,” Jo said, finishing off a glass of water and slamming it on the side. “We both will. Hazel too, she can witch her way into the inner circle or something, can’t she?”

  Alexander huffed a quiet laugh. “If it were that simple, she’d have done it by now.” It was cramped with the three of them in Fia’s flat, and Alexander still hadn’t adjusted to her not being in it. He’d looked through her piles of books, at the photos of her and Sophie. Beside what must have been a photo of them with their parents before they died, he found a black hair elastic, and slipped it onto his wrist.

  A familiar screech carried through the window from the car park below.

  “Kit. Perfect timing,” Alexander said to no one in particular. “Let’s go.” He climbed out the window before Jo and Halvar had a chance to reply, touching down lightly beside Kit.

  The fox licked a paw as he waited for Halvar and Jo. They’d taken the staircase together, and Alexander caught a sideways glance between them as they approached, but he said nothing. Jo was a good friend to Fia—her only friend, and she’d been there for Fia when her sister Sophie died. It felt like a lifetime ago, had it really only been a few months?

  He’d known Halvar since they were boys—trained together, fought together. The temptation to say something tugged at him, but he resisted, and turned his attention back to Kit. “We’re all here fox, where do you need us to go?”