The Eternal Dusk (Daughter of the Phoenix Book Two)

by Victoria J. Price

  He poked a finger into the blistering wound on Alexander’s chest, and Alexander made a pained sound, clenching his teeth. “Always so noble,” Erebus said. He wiped his hand across Alexander’s limp wing. “I have to say, I’m rather disappointed the witches’ talismans could bind you so easily. I thought you’d have a little more fight in you than this. A little… what do they like to call it here on Earth… magic?”

  Alexander slumped forwards, and the witch behind him lunged forwards to tug on a wing.

  “Let him go,” Erebus ordered. “Let the cold floor soothe his pain. We wouldn’t want our esteemed guest to suffer unnecessarily, would we?”

  Alexander fell forwards with a stifled groan. He’d angled himself to land on his shoulder, but blood from a wound above his right eye still flowed freely onto the stone floor. “We don’t have magic. You know that. Angels cannot command the wind as we once could.”

  “Hmm. I see. Pity.” Erebus eyed Lorn as he spoke, disinterested in whatever Alexander was doing on the floor. It was too pathetic to watch. And even more pathetic that he thought angels could no longer command the wind. Degenerates. They could not forget their affinity for air, it was in their blood. So many in Ohinyan had let their affinity with the elements fall away from them. Erebus clicked his tongue. It was to his benefit that they’d mostly forgotten anyway.

  Lorn smoothed her hair as Erebus watched her, her eyes never breaking his gaze. “Well are you going to just stare at me all day?” she asked, a thin smile revealing a flash of white teeth.

  She’d removed her coat, and her tight-fitting jumpsuit traced every curve of her body. “I’ve been imprisoned for thousands of years. I shall stare at whatever pleases me,” he said, with not a hint of emotion in his voice. She was too easy to toy with, it bordered on boring. Yet, as her eyes flicked to his mouth and then back to meet his again, and she ran her tongue across her teeth, just touching her top lip, Erebus acknowledged the thoughts that told him he wanted to pull that mouth towards his and have his own tongue explore it. Later, perhaps. “Where is Halvar?” he finally asked.

  Lorn’s eyes flashed with mischief. “With the others, sire.”

  “Please, let them go. I’ve no idea what you want with the angels. You have your army. You have me. Please, let them go,” Alexander spluttered from the floor.

  Erebus rolled his eyes. This dignity was beginning to grate. “I do indeed have my army,” he said, circling Alexander. The single witch stood beside the door kept his eyes fixed forwards, and Lorn folded her arms across her chest as she leant against a table. “You, remove the talisman, unbind his legs. This is too pathetic to watch. He can’t escape. And even if he could, he wouldn’t leave his friends.”

  The witch looked to Lorn, and then back to Erebus again. “Yes, sire.” He knelt down to unfasten the talisman from Alexander’s arm and untied his legs. Alexander pressed his hands to the floor and pushed himself to his knees.

  Erebus clicked his tongue again. “Oh, do help him, won’t you?” he said, rolling his eyes at the witch once more.

  The witch dragged Alexander to his feet and unceremoniously pulled him towards the table. Lorn sidestepped out of the way as Alexander reached out a hand to steady himself.

  “There. Isn’t that better? Now we can talk, eye to eye.” Erebus stood in front of Alexander, inspecting the burns along his arms, his chest. His white wings were bald in places, others were scorched black. His hair was thick with sweat and pressed against his face. “What could I possibly want with the angels? Let me think.”

  Erebus circled the table, his hands behind his back as he walked. Lorn watched him as he paced, and he winked an eye before turning to walk back the other way. “Ohinyan shunned me. Spread lies about me. About Terah. You angels and those pathetic Ohinyan witches spread poison about us both. She fled here, you know. She thought she’d be safe on Earth. And she was for a while.” He paused for a moment and looked at Lorn again. How could she believe she was the fire mother? He saw nothing of Terah in her. None of her strength, her vulnerability.

  He turned back to Alexander. “Thousands of years I’ve had to listen to the stories your kind have spun about me. I wasn’t like my father, not back then. You have made me into this. This is your doing.” Erebus held out his hands, stretched his arms wide. “You aren’t protectors. They took Terah away from me. Your kind tricked me. Tricked us both.”

  Alexander gripped the table for support, a lip and an eye had begun to swell, and dark bruises bloomed beneath crusted blood. “I didn’t know,” he said quietly. He coughed and wiped at his mouth, the back of his hand smearing with crimson. “I had no idea.”

  “I don’t doubt that. But you have a responsibility. Your father before you had a responsibility, and the leaders that came before him. Every leader of angels had a responsibility to learn the truth, and they chose not to. And now, Ohinyan’s sun is dying, and only the fire mother can rekindle it. With her, Terah’s true descendant, I will show Ohinyan who I truly am, and they will wonder why they ever relied on you pathetic angels for protection for all these years.”

  Alexander made a choked sound, one that might have been a laugh had it not been for the severity of his wounds. “You truly believe she is the fire mother? I may not know much of what you’re telling me. But I know this—Terah was no destroyer. She was a giver of life. She nurtured. She wasn’t this.” He waved a hand towards Lorn. “I’m sorry you were taken from Terah, but you cannot condemn the angels, the inhabitants of Ohinyan—of Earth, for the mistakes of our ancestors.”

  Erebus stopped pacing. “Can’t I?” He grabbed a fistful of Alexander’s hair, and jerked his head up, forcing him to look up. “Perhaps a demonstration of just what I can do might help you to understand a little faster.” A slither of darkness began to coil its way along the length of Erebus’s arm and around his wrist. “You two. Take him to the others. It’s time for a lesson.”

  Lorn and the witch grabbed Alexander by an arm each and followed Erebus out of the room.

  “How did you even get Lorn to Earth, anyway?” Alexander asked, elbowing Lorn and the witch away from him. Despite his injuries, he managed to walk alone. Erebus felt a fraction of respect for the gesture.

  “I brought her here. But I wouldn’t waste your few precious moments to question me on Lorn.”

  Alexander lunged forwards and grabbed Erebus’s arm. “What do you want with the spirits, with the angels?”

  Erebus shrugged Alexander’s hand away. “Isn’t it obvious yet?”

  The witch opened a door into a large, dark room. Low lighting hung high overhead, and as they entered the room Erebus held his arm out towards his prize. Dozens of angels, all bound by the talismans. Some were unconscious, some had bloodied faces like Alexander’s.

  Halvar stepped forwards, a witch pulling at his lifeless arm. “Sire, you’re injured,” he said, his gaze fixed on Alexander.

  Erebus ignored him and flicked his chin at Lorn. She pressed a hand to Alexander’s shoulder and he cried out in pain. “Tie him up. Over there.”

  He watched as four witches all but dragged Alexander towards the far wall and began fastening him to a wooden pillar, arms behind his back.

  “No, no, no! This will never do,” Erebus said as he flew to close the space between them. “Where is your sense of theatrics, of grandeur? Take pride in your punishment.” He ushered the witches away and rubbed a finger and thumb against his chin for a moment. “Ah yes, a classic. The fallen angel.”

  With a flick of his wrist, his darkness extended from him, wrapping around Alexander’s neck and pushing him up the wooden pillar, right up to one of the wooden beams above them that the lights were now swinging from.

  With his other hand, a swirl of darkness flared Alexander’s arms and wings outstretched across the beam. Something was missing, though. An extra touch. Ah, yes. Erebus reached with his darkness towards the back of the room, ripping apart some of the smaller, decorative wooden beams, and sent them hurtling like stakes towards
Alexander. They slammed into his wings, through his hands and one through a thigh, pinning him into place. Alexander convulsed and made a choked sound, blood trickling from his mouth as Halvar and some of the other angels cried out.

  “There,” Erebus finally said. “Now, you’re in a much better position to watch.” He jerked Alexander’s head up with the darkness, and with his free hand began firing it out towards the angels behind him. Screams erupted from the room, and Erebus huffed a quiet laugh.

  “No! Stop, please!” Alexander called out, his voice scratched and hoarse.

  Erebus stopped after a few seconds, but held his darkness around Alexander, kept him conscious and watching. “Enough whimpering, all of you,” Erebus called out. “There was one very important question you forgot to ask—more important than what I’m going to do with my army, or with your precious angels, Alexander. The question you should have asked is what am I going to do with her. With your beloved Fia.”

  “No!” Alexander kicked his free leg against the wooden pillar and shook his torso and head as best he could. It was a pathetic effort, but Erebus supposed the leader of angels would want to show some sort of effort in front of his minions. “If you’ve so much as touched her, I’ll—”

  “You’ll what, exactly?” Erebus yanked Alexander’s head back. “She’s the perfect tool to spread my message to the creatures of Ohinyan. There couldn’t be a more perfect conduit. What a glorious way for her to fulfil her prophecy.”

  “No,” Alexander breathed.

  “Lorn. Do what you want with them. But do try to drag it out this time. I want them all alive when I return, but barely. I want Alexander to watch as Fia does my bidding.”

  With one last pointed look at Alexander, Erebus walked away, readying himself for another journey back to Ohinyan. It was time to find Fia.

  Chapter Twelve

  Fia

  T he rhythmic beating of Arion’s wings was comforting, but as exhausted as she was, Fia still couldn’t sleep. She knew the ocean was somewhere beneath them, but Arion stayed above the clouds—it was safer, he’d told her.

  Noor had insisted she go alone to find the woman who might be able to speak with the sky spirits. But something about that turned itself over in Fia’s thoughts. If I can speak with the creatures of Ohinyan, can I speak with its sky spirits too? She knew it was just wishful thinking though. Wishful thinking because she would do anything to talk to Sophie, no matter how crazy.

  “Arion, what do you know of the sky spirits?” Fia called out as he dodged a dense cloud.

  “There are few who die in Ohinyan and do not join them. Very few indeed,” Arion bellowed. The vibration of his voice buzzed against Fia’s legs as she pressed against him to hold on.

  “Have you ever spoken to them?”

  Arion snorted and flicked his head up for a moment. “I have not. But not through lack of trying. When my mate died, I tried for many years to speak with her.”

  Fia shifted her weight and dug her hands tighter into Arion’s mane as he leaned to one side, his wings gliding on a pocket of wind. “I… I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Why had she never asked? He’d told her when they met that he was the last of his kind, but it never occurred to her to ask about others. Fia silently scolded herself for never asking him. Not that there had been much time to ask such a question.

  “I feel certain Nova can hear me. It is said in our world that the angels are our protectors, that they protect the sky spirits. But I have known the truth for many years. The sky spirits protect the angels.”

  Fia wiped at her face. What if Sophie could hear too? “Alexander once told me the sky spirits protect Alythia. And when I arrived back to Ohinyan, Runa told me the angels had been having trouble finding their way back to Alythia, and then it was attacked by Erebus… I can’t help but wonder if the sky spirits were protecting the angels, in their own way, by trying to keep Erebus out.”

  Arion sighed. “Indeed. There is much we do not know. So much knowledge has been lost to us.” He dipped his head low, and they began to descend through the clouds.

  Fia held an arm across her face to shield her eyes against the wind. She chewed her lip to fight back more tears. Who, on Earth, would remember her parents? Or her sister? When I’m gone, who will remember me? “Knowledge, loved ones… we lose it all in the end, I guess.”

  Arion flicked his head back. “Do not dwell on such things, Fia. When all we are is a memory, nothing more than a name, when everything we are is forgotten, what we have created, what we achieve here now will be what’s left of us. It will never be lost.”

  “You really think so?”

  “I have lived for many years, and I have seen it. We make much larger ripples in the waves than we can ever truly know.” He leaned and touched the edge of a wing into the ocean beneath them, and Fia looked over her shoulder at the separating water as he leaned back up.

  Ahead of them in the dusky light, a cliff face stretched up out of the water, waves crashing against white rocks. What if they couldn’t reach everyone in time before the sun died? What if nobody listened? For all Fia knew, the prophecy might not come true—there could be some other girl out there that they should all be looking for.

  “This is Estesh. We will rest here for a moment. The last place I saw a Tahjiik was in Djira, which is located in the very north of Ashar. This might be our last chance to have fresh water for a while.” Arion flew towards the forest at the top of the cliffs.

  Fia scanned the treetops for any signs of movement. A few birds flew out from the canopy, but nothing sinister caught her eye. “Nova, Enne, Sophie, my parents—you really think they can all hear us?”

  Arion circled closer to the treeline until Fia could see a patch of water, and he swooped down beside it. He knelt down for Fia to jump off and, with aching legs, she made her way to the water. It was small—they were lucky to have found it, barely more than a pond with the forest pushing against it on all sides. She could see the flowing stream that fed it at one end, and the tiny waterfall where the water tumbled over rocks at the other. Purple dragonflies hovered over the pond, and something chirped from the tall reeds lining its edges.

  “I do believe they can hear us, yes,” Arion finally said as he stood up.

  He walked to the water’s edge and dipped his head to drink. Fia looked up to the sky. She’d lost all track of time, and with the constant dwindling daylight, it was impossible to tell whether it was past noon or not. She felt the familiar pull of panic settling in her stomach, twisting itself over and over. Was Mira right? Fia counted her breaths slowly, pushing each exhale out as steadily as possible. Was there really a thread connecting her to Alexander? He had to be alive. But what was happening on Earth? Was he safe?

  She absentmindedly ran her fingers along the golden cuff he’d given her, tracing the engraving with her fingertips. She’d left Ohinyan before to keep her friends safe… and now Erebus was free, and she was still separated from Alexander. Would she ever see him again?

  Fia turned her attention back to the water, scooping some to her mouth with a cupped hand. Around her other wrist sat Sophie’s bracelet with the little bird charm and the witch knot Noor had tied for her. Noor had said it could bind winds and release them like the ice giants had done outside of Mizune, but Fia wasn’t sure she was convinced. How could a strip of leather possess magic? She breathed through her nose as her thoughts raced. No. No more second-guessing yourself. You can do this.

  “I wanted to thank you, Arion. For rescuing me from Behrog. For coming with me back to Mizune. For everything. Sometimes I worry I spend too long thinking about what I’ve lost when I have so much right in front of me. Thank you,” Fia said, swirling her hand in the water.

  Arion flicked his head up as he drank. “It is as I told you before you left Ohinyan, Fia. You have given me something I have not had in many years, something I thought I would never have again in the winter of my life. I have learned much from you, and I am grateful our paths have crossed.”


  Birds shot up from the canopy and Arion’s ears twitched. Fia reached for her bow and nocked an arrow ready, searching the line of trees for any signs of an intruder. Adrenaline pulsed through her, but she held the bow steady.

  Arion stepped away from the water, his ears flicking back as he paused to listen. “We should not stay any longer. Come.”

  Fia hesitated to put away her bow, but after a few moments of quiet swung up onto Arion’s back. “Should I be concerned?”

  “We will not stop again until we reach Djira—there is further yet to travel than the distance we covered this morning, I’d like to try and make it by nightfall if we can.”

  He broke free of the canopy, and Fia automatically scanned the forest for any signs of unrest.

  They’d landed at the very tip of Estesh. Fia could see ocean behind her and a stretch of water in front of her. “Are we far enough north to see the sky spirts, Arion?”

  “From Djira, perhaps.”

  He said no more, and as the last of the land slipped away beneath them, Fia found herself thinking about talking to Sophie again. No matter what happened, she couldn’t seem to find the balance between holding on and letting go. Being present. Sometimes, trying to move on felt like such a betrayal to her sister’s memory.

  Every now and then the clouds broke to reveal glimpses of the narrow sea below them, and up ahead in the distance, plumes of smoke rose into the sky as they approached the coast.

  “Any ideas?” Fia asked over the wind.

  “There are small encampments along the coast, we need to pass by here as quickly as the wind will allow us. We’ll need to stay amongst the clouds, the cliffs here are treacherous.”

  Arion beat his wings steadily as they approached the land, and below them, Fia could make out the chalky white edges of the coast as it fell away into the sea. Pieces of rock jutted out from the waves, and the mast of a ship poked out from the water.

  A flicker of something shiny caught Fia’s attention, and something whistled past her, and then again.