Alexander followed him through Ehnalia, surveying the damage. Repairs were being carried out, and as far as Alexander could see, the worst of the structural damage had been to the platform out front.
Ehnalia wasn’t just home to the library and the scholars, it was his home, too, it had always been his family’s home. But more than that, it was the epicentre of Alythia. A soldiers’ barracks sat at its base and city meetings were held on the lower levels. Training took place a level above that, with the general’s office stationed just off the main hall to oversee arrivals and departures. Most angels were issued with patrols—either to Earth or within Ohinyan, only a handful remained to run the city as his sister did.
The general led the way down a marble corridor, open arched windows providing a view of plumes of smoke drifting from the city below. “Erebus attacked. He came to us as a swarm of darkness, burning and destroying.” Jarl waved a hand to the library. “Gnossaan is dead. He was working with Erebus, as you suspected.”
Blast marks marred the marble around the library, and Alexander had no desire to go inside and see what destruction had been caused. He hadn’t trusted the old scholar for some time, but he took no comfort in knowing he’d been right about him. How many more angels would betray him before this was over? Word would soon spread about what had transpired on Earth, and there would be those who would try to stand against him, he knew it. He let out a breath. He would face it when it came.
How many more had died at Erebus’s hands? “My sister, my nieces, are they safe?” He resisted the urge to go searching for them.
The general smiled. “They are all well. Come.”
Knowing they were safe would have to do for now. Hopefully, there would be time enough to see them soon. They flew out of Ehnalia, over Alythia’s ornate buildings overgrown with thick foliage. Everywhere there were signs of damage, groups of angels working together to make repairs.
Jarl gestured to a group as they flew past. “Repairs are going well. There was minimal damage. He came, attacked, and left.”
“Deaths?”
The general was quiet for a moment. “Fifteen.”
Fifteen. Fifteen deaths. Along with the twelve that had been murdered to set Erebus free. “What else can you tell me?”
“Runa and Malachai have been leading efforts to deliver devices across Ohinyan. The devices will allow Fia to speak with the people and creatures of this world, to advise them ahead of the Makya’s arrival.”
Alexander stopped mid-flight and reached out to the general, grasping his arm. “Fia’s here?”
“Not here, sire. In Djira, the northernmost tip of Ashar.”
She’s safe. Maybe Erebus had just been trying to provoke him, after all. But something told him that wouldn’t be the case. Erebus seemed like the type to see his promises—or rather his threats—through to the bitter end.
Jarl must have read his expression. “Everything is under control here. If you need to go to her, I’ll be awaiting your orders when you return.”
“The angels that returned with me, see to it that they have everything they need. They have endured much. And thank you. I will return soon—there is much to prepare.”
“Very well, sire.”
Alexander didn’t waste time on pleasantries, he darted away from the general, towards the rocky outskirts of Alythia, and straight over the precipice into the clouds below.
***
A flag with the symbol of Ohinyan waved in the harbour breeze, and Alexander recognised it as the ship Maab had captained at Altair’s request. He circled round to Djira’s dock and caught sight of his friends talking beside the gangway.
“Alexander.” Altair saw him first. He was swift for such an old man and hopped off a crate as Alexander approached.
Runa flung herself around him. “You’re alive!”
He felt hands on his arms, one at his shoulder. Noor beamed at him. “You look like you’ve seen better days, Lady Noor.” Her clothes were burnt and bloodied, her braid coming loose over her shoulder.
“As do you, angel.” She laughed. Maab stood beside her and gave a silent nod in acknowledgement. Malachai peeled Runa away from him.
Alexander glanced at his friends, hoping his exhaustion didn’t show. He was quite certain he looked as bad as he felt. “Much has happened. Here too, I take it?”
“You could say that. But things are moving quickly—we have the means to spread messages across Ohinyan, to prepare for the Makya’s arrival. They will be a welcome sight when they arrive.” Altair’s great cloak swayed as he talked, the old man was as animated as any other.
Some good news, at least. Perhaps they might reach everyone before the sun died, after all. You haven’t failed them all, yet. “So my general tells me. Good work. Arion will assist you, I’m sure.”
Altair reached a hand to his arm and fell quiet for a moment. “Arion is dead, my friend. I’m sorry to deliver such bad news on your arrival home.”
Dead. The great winged horse. A great loss to Ohinyan, to many. Arion had been a friend to his family for many years—a friend to—“Where’s Fia?”
A woman with ash-blonde hair, wrapped in nothing but a robe, shoved her way past them and walked right up to Maab. “Fia took off, do you want me to follow her?”
“Took off, where?” Alexander asked, fear taking hold in his chest.
“She has a wingsuit. She won’t have gone far. Osara, go. Alexander, she’ll probably be above the city.” Maab pointed at the stone steps leading up into Djira. Osara stepped out of her robe and shifted into a white bird, already airborne by the time she’d finished her transformation.
Alexander didn’t hesitate, he pushed off too, Malachai and Runa at his side. “Where did she get a wingsuit?” And how had she learnt to fly it so quickly? He’d never seen such a device before—never heard of such a thing in Ohinyan.
“We think it was Erebus, we can’t be certain. She was kidnapped and she stole it, and then an angel rescued her.” Runa relayed the story as they flew over the city searching for her.
An angel. An icy chill settled in his stomach. “Did he have a white tattoo?”
Runa and Malachai exchanged a glance, and Alexander knew. Erebus had already found her. His head throbbed as his thoughts ran away with themselves. Fia had found her way back to her friends—it didn’t make sense. Why had Erebus let her go? He’d said he was going to use her, had something changed his mind? Runa was talking, but the sound was drowned out, the city beneath them blurring as he urged his body forwards.
Alexander thought of Fia’s eyes, of resting his head against hers. Of holding her and breathing her in. He told himself he’d never leave her again, not unless it was what she wanted.
“He healed her, Alexander, she had no reason not to trust him,” he heard Runa say. They flew over stone bridges and pillars, Asharians and humans glancing up at them as they passed.
“I’ve no doubt that was precisely his intention.” Erebus had such an air about him. A self-assured arrogance. Alexander knew it could be used as charm, too, if Erebus intended it.
A bird squawked as they approached the towers that loomed over the city. Osara. The white bird flew above them, circling.
“There,” Runa cried out.
Up ahead on the city wall. Fia. That icy chill had taken hold of him now. Strands of her red hair waved around her in the wind. Erebus stood in front of her, right in front of her but she made no move to step away. He brushed a hair from her face—so close Alexander couldn’t be sure if their faces were touching.
Just as Alexander surged forwards with his magic to propel him, Erebus swarmed around Fia with his black cloak and they disappeared. “Fia,” Alexander called out. “Fia!” But it was no use, they were gone.
He touched down on the wall, searching left and right for any signs of them. A roaring, thundering filled his ears. She was gone. Alexander’s hands curled into fists as he shook. She was gone. Fia’s wingsuit lay on the stone—a strange copper contraption unlike anything he’d e
ver seen before. And there, glistening in the light beside it, the golden cuff he’d given her. He fell to his knees, the roaring in his head getting louder. You failed her. He would find her. He would do whatever it took to find her.
An anguished cry escaped him. The force of his magic amplified his voice across the city, sending Runa tumbling back into Malachai’s arms. He hadn’t even noticed them land. Fia had been taken because he’d been delayed on Earth. If he’d been here when she’d returned, this never would have happened. He dragged his hands through his hair, his hands still trembling. What if he never saw her again? He wouldn’t allow himself to consider it. But he had failed her, again. He reached for the hair elastic he wore around his wrist, the only thing he had of hers. He picked up the cuff from the stone beside him and held it to his chest, his magic humming against it.
You broke your promise. And now all of Ohinyan would pay the price.
Chapter Thirty-One
Erebus
J ust as Erebus wrapped himself around Fia, he heard Alexander call out to her. Not dead, after all. It didn’t matter. The pathetic angel wouldn’t be able to follow, not to where Erebus was taking her.
He didn’t need a window to travel to where he was going. Although he probably should have prepared her first for the journey. He rematerialised in total darkness and as he sank back into his physical form, Fia fell limp in his arms. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her shallow breathing against his cheek. He tossed her up over one shoulder and held an orb of fire in his palm to light the way.
She will never forgive you for this. His one consolation was that she hadn’t heard Alexander call her name. Better to crush any glimmer of hope. Better she still believes he’s dead. Better she forgets about him. Erebus made his way down a passageway cut into rock and slid aside a heavy door. The room was bare, he hadn’t had time to prepare it. Not that she would see anything in the darkness anyway. He carried her to the mattress he’d placed in the corner and laid her down gently. Strands of hair had fallen across her eyes and he brushed them away, tracing a hand across her cheek.
She was so like Terah it took his breath away. She even had some of the same mannerisms, the same flecks of gold in her eyes. And yet… he pressed a hand to his side and felt the warm stickiness of blood. Why wasn’t he healing? He pulled a blanket over Fia—it was thin, but it was all he’d had time to find. He’d bring furs and cushions as soon as he could, and he made a mental list of items that might bring her some comfort as he locked the door behind him with a flick of his magic. She’d likely be asleep for some time.
He made his way back down the passageway into a large open chamber, one he had spent thousands of years in, and even in the darkness, he knew every crack and fissure in the rock by heart. Even in his shadow form—as much as he loathed it, he’d still had a sense of touch, somehow. He sat himself down on a level piece of rock and examined his wound with one hand. In the other, he held a fireball to illuminate the chamber.
He stared down at the laceration, beads of sweat forming on his brow. What had Lorn done to him? What was she? Erebus tried to heal himself, gritting his teeth together as he let his magic fall from his fingertips and reach for his wound. He felt nothing but pain and he called out in agony in the darkness. What twisted fate would have him return to his ethereal form and cast aside his physical body so soon after it had been returned to him? He couldn’t go back to that existence, not permanently. It had taken so much from him to exist like that. Like nothing, alone in this place for thousands of years. Granted, he’d had lifetimes to torment the people and creatures of Ohinyan in his boredom, but it had been barely a life at all. He had merely existed.
Erebus lay back on the cold stone and let it soothe him. How had the Eternal Dusk been destroyed? His Earth witches had proved useless, but they had been loyal. The coven always had been. And now they were gone, along with his spirit army. It didn’t matter—not really. That part of his plan had always been for the sheer pleasure of it. Watching the pathetic angels have their ancient duty stripped away was merely for the joy of watching their precious responsibilities ripped from them.
He reached out a hand to try healing himself again, and a burst of pain rolled through him. It was his ethereal form that was the true prison. Not this place. Being robbed of his body—his own eyes and mouth and ears, that was the true punishment.
How had his father tolerated it? Existing as nothing but his shadow self for so long, alone in the infinite expanse of the universes, floating through the aether. But then he hadn’t been alone, had he? Not really. The phoenix had been there all along, from the very beginning. Light cannot exist without darkness. Balance, his father had once said. Erebus cried out again as another flash of pain tore at his side. No. He would not be trapped in that form again. He would fight for this body, even though he resembled those he loathed the most.
Ohinyan had wronged his father. It had wronged him and Terah. And he would see the world suffer for it. But he couldn’t do it alone. He still needed Fia for his plan. Erebus considered going to check on her but saw no use in disturbing her rest. Travelling to his prison realm would have taken its toll on her body, and she’d need sleep. Please. She’d whispered it to him right as he’d pulled Alexander’s golden cuff from her wrist. They weren’t wed, Erebus knew. He’d seen everything that had transpired between them. Even Alexander’s empty promise that he’d come back to Earth for her. Erebus clicked his tongue at the thought. Now she would have nothing to remind her of him, nothing to dwell on, and the quicker she forgot about him the better.
Erebus rolled himself to one side and hauled himself up. He still didn’t understand what had happened on Earth. How had the angels escaped the witches’ talismans? How had the basement been brought down? Alexander had no grasp of the angels’ old magic, Erebus knew. He’d seen no evidence of it for thousands of years. And yet, only magic would have been able to bury Lorn in that pile of rubble.
Still, there were many in Ohinyan who had heeded his whispers over the years. Many who would be eager to do his bidding, he was certain of it. So many creatures had turned because of his words. Many angels, too. He wiped sweat from his brow with a laboured breath as he thought of the pitiful beings. Wings were practical, there was no denying it, but he detested looking so much like one of them.
It wasn’t all a lie, he’d told Fia. And it was true. For the most part, he’d told her the truth, he’d made sure of it. Tried to show her who he truly was. What she saw in Alexander, he would never know. Erebus tried one last time to heal his wound. But it was no use. It was getting worse, and he was growing weaker.
They’d done this, the angels and the witches. If they hadn’t interfered, he wouldn’t have been wounded. Erebus gritted his teeth against the pain and thought of Alexander and his smug bunch of friends back in Djira. He trembled with rage and cast a jet of flames across the empty chamber as a roar of pain and anger escaped from him.
If he had to exist in his shadow form, he was at least going to find some pleasure in it. Erebus fell away from his body, his fury bubbling up inside him, and made his way back to Ohinyan. It was time for a little fun.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Fia
F ia awoke to absolute darkness. “Dante?” At first, she wasn’t sure if she’d been blindfolded, there wasn’t a single speck of light anywhere. But when she touched her face, nothing concealed her eyes. “Dante?” She called out for him again. She felt around her: a coarse blanket, a strange bed, a rough stone wall, cold to the touch. All she could hear was the sound of her heartbeat and her own panicked breathing. One, two… “Dante, please.”
She reached for the cuff Alexander had given her, but it was gone. “No,” she breathed. She brushed her other wrist, and the little bracelet with the bird charm of her sister’s was still safe. That was something, at least.
What had happened? They’d been standing on the wall above Djira, and then—all she remembered was darkness. She’d dreamt Alexander was there, call
ing her name. “Dante!” Hot tears rolled down her cheeks and she swiped them away forcefully, trying desperately to focus on her breathing.
She tentatively swung her feet to the side and tested the ground. Solid. Unwavering. With shaking hands, she walked herself around the edge of the bed, running her fingers along the rough wall to see if she could find a door or window—anything. But it was all coarse rock. “Dante, please, where are you?” Her voice was becoming hoarse from calling out to him, her sobs broken with her frightened breathing.
Fia followed the wall until it curved to the side, and then her fingers ran across something else—rough wood. She leaned into it. A door. Her breath caught in her throat and she banged her hands against it. “Dante! Dante, I know you can hear me!”
Sobs broke her shouts, and Fia sank down with her back against the door. Something hard pressed against her leg. Okwata’s device. She pulled it out and it snagged against her trousers. Shit. Something wasn’t right. She ran her fingers carefully around it. A piece of metal protruded out from the otherwise perfect surface, but Fia had no idea what it meant. She counted the buttons—three—they still felt like they were intact. “Hello?” She jabbed the live broadcast button and spoke as clearly she could. “Can anyone hear me? I’m trapped somewhere. Someplace dark. Dante, he—he brought me here. Please. If anyone can hear me, please let me know.” She released the button and waited. Nothing.
Their plan was ruined. If she couldn’t play her part—if she couldn’t explain to the people and creatures of Ohinyan that the Makya were coming to help, the plummeting temperatures could kill them all. What if the sun died, and she was stuck in this place? One, two, three. The darkness was all-consuming.
“Hello?” she tried the device again, louder this time.
“Are you talking to yourself already?” a voice in the darkness asked. A woman’s voice, one she recognised.
Fia jumped so fast at the sound she nearly lost her grasp on the device. “Who’s there?”
The Eternal Dusk (Daughter of the Phoenix Book Two) Page 24
