The Eternal Dusk (Daughter of the Phoenix Book Two)

by Victoria J. Price

  “All angels have magic, but they’ve forgotten how to use it, apart from with the spirits on Earth.” Dante’s expression darkened. “I didn’t grow up with the angels. My father was an explorer. A scientist. He taught me everything he knew before he was killed.” He was on his feet, circling round to the wingsuit.

  Fia tested the strength in her legs and dragged herself up. “I’m so sorry, about your father. My parents were killed, too.”

  “So you understand what it’s like when someone close to you dies. It shatters everything you know.” He examined the wings for a moment. “Everything you thought you knew about yourself. And it takes time, a long time to rebuild.” His grey eyes met hers, and he held the wingsuit up to her. “To rebuild yourself. Here.”

  He helped Fia into the suit, and she felt the weight of it immediately. Dante folded the wings back and she almost toppled backwards with the weight, but he grabbed her elbow and pulled her upright. She wanted to answer him, to tell him she understood exactly what he’d said. But she was too busy focusing on her breathing and the tightness in her chest. No. He can’t be dead. He just can’t be.

  “Science and magic, remember?” Dante stood in front of her, his fingers deftly fastening buckles and straps.

  Fia looked up at him as he spoke, the clouds in his eyes looked as if they were swirling, tumbling over each other.

  “Magic is what propels the suit. Science is what keeps you airborne.” He pointed to some buttons along the copper plate across her chest. “Eventually you won’t need these, but to begin with, these fold and unfold the wings. This one tells them to beat. But as you learn the subtleties of the suit, you’ll be able to make those movements without the buttons and switches.” He looked up. “We should have enough space here. Jump, and press this button. I’ll be with you the whole time.”

  She nodded and felt for the buttons without looking. She had a feeling she wasn’t going to have time to look for them from the air.

  A wide grin spread across Dante’s face. “Ready?”

  Fia didn’t reply. She jumped, jabbed at a button, and the wings spread wide. She pushed another and they were beating, thrusting her upwards through the canopy. She couldn’t see where Dante was. She didn’t care. She just kept going, up and up, away from the world, away from her responsibilities, away from all the death and dying.

  She let the wings pulse and propel her upwards, past the clouds until there was nothing beneath her but a blanket of white. It was just like the rush of being on the back of Sophie’s motorbike, and Fia’s heart raced at the thought.

  But the moment she looked down the sense of elation dissipated. She fumbled against switches and tried leaning her weight, but it was no use. Fia knew she had no control over the suit. She was falling, fast.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Erebus

  E rebus looked up to see Fia falling towards him. She’d shot off into the sky, and it more than irritated him that he couldn’t keep up with a device of his own making. Her red hair fell around her in ribbons as she fell towards him, but he caught her with ease.

  “I thought I told you not to do that,” she said, brushing the hair from her eyes and catching her breath.

  He laughed quietly. She looked just like Terah. The same eyes, the same softness to her face. The same lips. “I can let go?”

  “No!” Fia squeezed his arms. “Just wait. I need a second. I can’t work out the balance.”

  Erebus held her upright just above the clouds as she examined the buttons on the suit. Rays of light from the dying sun reflected off the copper panels and cast a shade of pink across the clouds, not unlike the colour of the sweets he’d so often watched the children of Ohinyan passing amongst each other.

  Being here, with her, it didn’t feel real to him. “Always tilt forwards. The weight is behind you, that’s never going to change. If you’re tilting forwards, you’re in control. See.” Erebus let go, just at arm’s length, and Fia hovered beside him, the copper wings pulsing gently. He’d always wanted to fly with Terah. He’d dreamt of it so many times—had made so many revisions to his plans for the wingsuit over the years.

  “I think I’ve got it,” Fia said. A broad smile spread across her face, and within a heartbeat she was away again, soaring across the clouds so quickly he worried he wouldn’t catch up with her again without his powers.

  “Slow down,” Erebus called out to her. “I can’t catch you if you’re already resembling a trampled bucket of berries.”

  A sound escaped from Fia, somewhere between a snort and a laugh. “Wow, you really have a way with words. You really aren’t like the other angels, are you?”

  You really aren’t. She said it as if she’d been thinking about it. Thinking about him. Could she love him, in time? It didn’t matter. Being with her was enough, for now. “I’m not, no. I suppose that’s why Alexander asked me to be one of his scholars.”

  “You’re a scholar?” Fia banked around to face him and instantly lost her balance, but Erebus caught her again, pulling away the moment she righted herself.

  He nodded earnestly. “I recognised you, from the description in the prophecy.”

  Fia made that strange sound again, an incredulous but quiet laugh. “I know for a fact that there are other redheads in Ohinyan, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting one of them.”

  “Ah yes, but you so clearly have an other-worldly aura about you,” he teased.

  She was quiet for a moment, concentrating on her flight or considering her words, he couldn’t decide which. “So is that… is that how you know Alexander… how you know he’s…”

  Her eyes were glassy, and Erebus knew she was fighting back tears. Something twisted inside of him—to know she was in pain. He cast the feeling aside. The pain was necessary. “I’d warned him against returning to Earth. If only he’d listened. The angels would still have their great leader.” The words stuck in his throat, but Erebus made his best effort to sound like he cared. Great leader. The thought was sickening. Alexander is nothing. I will make her see that, in time.

  Fia had paled, and she clutched her hand around the golden cuff she never took off. She turned away for a moment, closing her eyes as she faced the sun. “Tell me what you know about the prophecy.” Her copper wings beat in unison—she was still using the buttons to control them.

  “That you will unite the people and creatures of Ohinyan. That you have far more power than you know. Didn’t Alexander tell you all of this?” Erebus knew precisely what Alexander had told her—only what the witches knew. And Alexander had no idea how powerful she could be, given time.

  Fia’s brow creased into a frown. “Can we talk about this on the ground? I feel like I need to be sitting down for this conversation, not hovering thousands of feet above the treeline.”

  Before he could reply, she’d leaned forwards again, diving down towards the forest. Erebus had known she was headstrong, but he hadn’t noticed before how little regard she held for her own life.

  He dived down after her, ready to prevent another crash landing. But Fia was smart. She pulled back as they broke through the canopy, leaning far enough into an upright position that it looked as if she might touch down smoothly, but she was still going too fast. If he used his powers, she’d see it, so instead, he surged forwards and dived towards her, grabbing her around the waist just before she made contact with the ground.

  “I said you can’t do that, what the—”

  They crash-landed in the bushes, his arms still wrapped tightly around her. “You were going too fast, I had to.”

  “Get off of me.” She wriggled free from his arms but was weighed down by the suit.

  Erebus stood up and reached out a hand with a grin. “Truce?”

  “Look, Dante. You need to learn some boundaries.”

  “I can’t stand by and let you injure yourself.” He wouldn’t allow it. He pulled Fia to her feet and she threw out her free hand to balance herself.

  “Let’s just get back to our campsite an
d finish this prophecy discussion, okay?” she asked, unbuckling the straps on her suit.

  He stepped forwards to help her but caught the expression in her eyes and thought better of it. Such fire inside of you. Words he’d uttered to her from his prison, not too long ago. It was true. There was so much she was capable of. “Allow me to carry those for you,” he offered as politely as he could manage. His manners would need practice around her, as much as it irked him to admit it to himself. With anyone else, he saw no use in asking for anything. What he wanted, he simply took.

  Fia wriggled out of the suit, the wings falling away from her. “Fine. Tell me what you know about the prophecy.”

  “Everything in Ohinyan is connected in some way or another,” he hoisted the copper suit between a shoulder and a wing. “The dying sun, Erebus escaping, the prophecy about you.” He gave her a sideways glance. “A thread runs through it all.”

  The colour had drained from Fia’s face, but she was quiet. Erebus was patient. He had time. And incredibly, she’d landed not far from their camp. He stepped around another tree trunk and brought them back to the small clearing where he’d set up a space for them to rest.

  “My bow,” Fia finally said as she sat beside the remains of the fire. “How did you find it?” She held it up to him, her expression unreadable.

  “I found it not far from here whilst you were sleeping.” It was an innocent enough response. In truth, he’d seen where she’d dropped it and gone back to retrieve it whilst she slept. So it wasn’t entirely a lie—not that he had any qualms about spinning more for his cause, anyway.

  Fia picked up a stick and examined it. “I lost my dagger. It was a gift.” She sighed. “And I’m going to need a lot more practice before I can fly solo to look for the Tahjiik.” She threw the stick into the remains of the fire. “Please, tell me what you know about the prophecy.”

  She was looking at the smouldering remains, but Erebus knew her thoughts were elsewhere.

  “The prophecy says that the descendent of Terah will unite the people and creatures of Ohinyan when the sun dies. That you will face the ancient darkness and bring glory to this world.”

  Fia’s eyes flicked up to meet his. “Descendent of Terah? Do you mean Talina, the witch? That’s what I’ve been told. I’m a descendent of an Ohinyan witch.”

  Witches. How many lies had they spun across the years? How much poison had they spread about his love? “And Talina was a descendent of Terah. Therefore, you are a descendent of Terah.”

  “I’m a Makya?” Fia placed a hand in the grass beside her to steady herself. She seemed to focus on her breathing. “And you’re telling me Alexander knew this?”

  The angels had always known very little. The witches had made sure of it over the years. But what little knowledge remained, Erebus had ensured Gnossaan had destroyed it all. “I told him myself.”

  Fia was on her feet, pacing. “I don’t understand… why would Alexander have kept this from me? He… Lorn killed his father… he would never be with me if he knew… had known… would he?” She held a hand to her forehead.

  “I cannot say why. I told him when he returned to Alythia, prior to the battle in the south. I’m sure he had his reasons for keeping it from you.” Erebus maintained his composure. He’d had an eternity to practice. Alexander didn’t deserve her anyway. No angel did.

  “And what about Erebus? He’s already escaped. So I’ve failed.” She pulled her hair back with both hands and fastened it above her head with a band from her wrist.

  He’d seen her tie her hair that way many times before and resisted the urge to click his tongue. She suited her loose style better when her hair fell freely around her face. The shade of red against the cream of her skin was just like Terah’s. “The prophecy says you will face the ancient darkness. Prophecies are quite vague, I’m afraid.”

  She was still pacing. “So you’re saying I have more power… magic? Like you?”

  Erebus fought back the smile that was threatening to tug at his lips. “Yes, in time.” The wind picked up through the trees, carrying with it the scent of the ocean. For most, this was not a safe place to linger or to light so many fires, but Erebus was pleased with the perimeter he’d set up around the camp. No one would see or hear them.

  “Altair… a friend told me, anyone could wield water like the Mizunese. So anyone could learn magic? Can you… can you teach me?” She stopped pacing and looked at him, her green eyes all the shades of the forest.

  “Not just anyone, Fia. But yes, I can try, if that’s what you’d like.” How long had he waited for this moment? For her to ask him, to learn together as he and Terah had done, so long ago.

  Fia sat down again. “Tell me more about your tattoo, about Terah and Erebus. If he wasn’t always this way, maybe my part in all of this is to talk to him, to convince him to change.”

  “The tattoo is Terah’s story. It tells of how great their love was for each other, but the rest is about her.” Erebus paused, but Fia waited for him to continue. “Terah created many worlds, breathing life and love into all of them. She could wield more than just fire. She could command the elements, she could heal, she could grow plants from her fingertips.” He looked at his arm, at the white ink that wrapped around it. Never forget my love for you, it read in the language they had been taught by their parents, one that had long since faded from Ohinyan.

  Fia was quiet. She looked at her hands, turning them over. “You think I could do all of that?”

  “Perhaps. Given time.” Enough time for him to show her the true nature of the angels and witches of this world. To show her how they’d wronged Ohinyan, all of them.

  She chewed at her lip. “This is a lot to take in.” She let out a deep breath. “I need to find the Tahjiik, will you come with me?”

  “You’re going to need a few more lessons first.” He flicked his chin towards the wingsuit. “But I’d be glad to accompany you.”

  Training her was just the first step. Together, they could command all of Ohinyan. The Earth witches he’d had years to work on, thanks to the coven from Ohinyan who worshipped him years ago. But the remaining Ohinyan witches, they were almost as bad as the angels. And the greatest punishment for the angels was to withhold them from their precious duties. To turn Ohinyan against them. All of Ohinyan would know the true story of Terah. All of Earth would suffer for it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Alexander

  T his was the furthest away from London Alexander had ever been. Dark sea passed beneath him, and every now and then a bird or two swooped down to catch a fish. A school of dolphins had travelled with him for a while, but he’d had to pull up to cloud cover when there were too many ships. He didn’t want to risk endangering the creatures.

  He thought of Fia as he flew, and of Erebus’s threat. How could she defend herself against an ancient darkness?

  The sea became land and Alexander paused to rest in a harbour city, atop one of the many tall, metal arms standing beside the harbour. Some had hooks hanging from them at the end of a cable, others seemed to be part of another metal contraption. Some hoisted containers from ships as they docked. The land was strange here, small canals snaked away from the harbour amongst buildings quite different from the ones Alexander was used to in London. Most were tall and narrow, tightly packed side by side with peculiar rooftops. Amsterdam. Jo had pointed to it on a map, which had somehow been on her phone.

  A tinny bell sounded, and Alexander watched as a row of cyclists made their way down a road. What if this is a waste of time? Every moment away from London could mean the trapped angels were closer to dying at Lorn’s hands, or Erebus’s. And the spirit army—what were they for? Erebus had said it was obvious, but what purpose could they serve?

  I’m sitting here catching my breath whilst angels are being tortured. He shook his head and pushed off into the air at the thought, beating his wings hard to fly as fast he could. Jo had shown him several places to rest on his journey, but he wouldn’t stop aga
in. He flew for hours, day turned to night and he could see nothing but flickering lights every now and again below him.

  The air grew gradually colder, and he looked to the stars to check he was flying in the right direction. He didn’t feel the cold the way the humans did, but his wings began to ache from flying for so long without resting. It didn’t matter, there was no time.

  And then he heard it. A familiar chime, just a single note. And then another, and another. He pressed on until a ribbon of emerald flickered along the horizon in the darkness. There. The ribbons intertwined with magenta and violet and began swirling around each other, the familiar chime of the sky spirits accenting their movements. Alexander flew up towards the stars, right into the display until he was surrounded by the flickering lights and their chiming.

  “I need to speak with you,” he said, as loudly as he could. “I need your help.” He dragged a hand through his hair as he hovered. This was a foolish idea. He’d never spoken with the sky spirits. He didn’t even know if such a thing was possible.

  Alexander’s breath clouded in front of him as he looked through the Northern Lights to the stars above. Were they one and the same, the sky spirits and the Northern Lights? Or had he been wrong?

  He spun around mid-air as the ribbons changed colour to shades of blues and greens. “Please. I know you’re not supposed to intervene. You must understand—I’ve nowhere else to go for information.”

  “Hello again, angel.”

  Alexander spun around in the direction of the voice. A young woman’s voice. A voice he recognised. “Sophie?” Fia’s older sister—whose spirit he had set free the first night he came to Earth to look for Fia.

  “You kept your promise,” Sophie said. Her face emerged from a ribbon of magenta, and then her body, dressed just as she had been the night she died, her auburn hair swirling in tandem with the Northern Lights. Sky spirits.