The Third Sun (Daughter of the Phoenix Book One)

by Victoria J. Price

  “Fia…”

  She froze, drawing in cool breaths of air to calm herself. Not here, not now.

  “Fia…” the voice whispered again. She counted her breaths and thought of Alexander.

  “This way,” the fireflies called as they swirled around her, and reminded her she wasn’t alone. And then they were gone, darting over the edge of the precipice. She stepped forward and examined the descent. The little glowing orbs were smart. She could see a route down the rock edge, and warily began her descent, her hands grasping at rocks.

  “This doesn’t look as if it’s going to end well,” Fia whispered to the little speckles of light, wondering if they could understand her.

  They cooed and called sounds of encouragement as she kept going, one foot steadily after another. By the time she’d reached halfway, her hands were cut and bleeding. She balanced herself against the edge as she ripped her spare shirt into strips, wrapping it around her palms. The cotton stained pink almost immediately, but it would have to do.

  Kharsee had told her so much, but she felt like she knew so little. She was still no closer to understanding what she could do to help, but the witch had said she’d answer more questions when they next met. When would that be?

  Fia could see more of the valley now, the path became less steep a little further below, and it looked like she might be able to walk rather than climb. The valley was full of life. High above, huge, dark, moth-like birds rested on the breeze and floated motionless on pockets of air. The Shadows. Her glittering companions urged her on so Fia continued.

  Soon, she found she could walk upright amongst the rocks with care, making her way to level ground. The little fireflies swarmed around her, chirping in praise before drifting ahead, guiding her through the alpine landscape. Her feet crunched in crisp snow, and her breath hung in the cool air. She fastened her coat and pulled up her hood, glancing up at the rock face as hundreds of angels passed by her in the skies above. The absence of Alexander’s presence had been an ache in her side all day, and she scanned the angels for any sign of him.

  She couldn’t risk calling out for help. If Oren had betrayed his kind, who knew how many others had, too?

  The valley was difficult to navigate. The herds of giant giraffes, although slow, moved in large groups and timing the run between their feet was tricky. The smallest, a baby, no larger than a double decker bus, moved slowly between the legs of its elders.

  A path through the creatures led to an icy blue lake and was her best chance to keep going without being trodden on. She dropped down to the edge of the water. The lake was vast, and a biting breeze swept across her face. The little orbs of light chirped frantically, flurrying around her.

  “This way, this way,” they cried.

  “I need to rest a moment,” Fia said, slumping at the water’s edge and unwrapping her bandaged hands. She gazed into the blue, cleaning away the crusted blood and drinking the crisp water. It was so clear she could see herself, the sky, and the little fireflies reflected as if she gazed into a mirror. It was mesmerising. Her reflection rippled, and Fia saw herself back in her flat in London. She watched, captivated, as Alexander joined her in the watery scene, wearing nothing but a pair of faded jeans and chopping tomatoes for their dinner. Fia ran a hand through the water, shaking her head. She was more exhausted than she realised. But the scene remained. She watched herself rinsing a spatula in her kitchen sink, and Alexander reaching in for an embrace as he dropped a colander on the countertop.

  The fireflies fluttered around her head. “This way, this way. Hurry!”

  The water began to ripple fiercely, distorting the image of her and Alexander. Fia looked up as the little glittering swarm frenzied around her.

  “Hurry, hurry, hurry!” they cried, but it was too late. Surging towards her and towering over the water loomed a giant serpent, covered in scales and rotting flesh.

  Fia leapt up, her little bow drawn, an arrow nocked and ready. As the thing hurtled closer, she doubted her arrows would have any effect against it. She ran back as far as she could, hoping the creature would be water bound, but she was backed up against a rock edge and still within its reach.

  The fireflies hovered above her head. “Hurry, hurry, hurry!”

  “Wait!” Fia cried out.

  The thing stopped far away from her in the water, but it was so vast that its neck leered upwards and outwards, its dripping head metres away from hers. It sent a surge of ice-cold water towards the shore that came crashing down over Fia as it stopped abruptly at her call. From this distance, she could see its scaly skin was torn and broken all over, barnacles and shelled creatures feeding off its wounds. She retched at the thought of the water she’d drunk just moments before.

  Its eyes were like a lizard’s, and it had a long muzzle of a mouth full of large, sharp teeth.

  “It speaks,” the thing said, eyeing Fia. Bits of fish and bone spattered from its mouth in a gust of wet, warm breath.

  “I do. My name is Fia.” She tried her best to conceal her tremble as she spoke. She stepped to her right, searching for a way up the wet rocks, whilst holding an arrow outstretched on the tip of her bow. If she slipped…

  “Mmmhmmmm, Fia.” It spoke as if it was tasting her name and checking the size and the shape of it. “I have not seen your kind here in some time. And certainly not one I could converse with. No matter, I’ve no doubt you’ll make a better meal than you do conversation.”

  “But wait,” Fia cried and took another step to her right. The fireflies circled above her, squealing incomprehensible cries of panic. “You…you haven’t told me your name, or how you came to be here?”

  The thing threw its head skywards and laughed, a booming, scraping sound that sent water and creatures soaring from its skin. It blinked, two eyelids touching over the glassy whites of its eyes and meeting at the inky grey pupils in the centre.

  “I have not spoken my name in many moons, nor would I wish for you to know it. I know what you are doing, and I do not care for it.” It reared up at the last word, throwing more cold water towards Fia, like a thousand icy shards.

  She didn’t hesitate; she aimed arrow after arrow at its eyes, hoping one would hit. The creature wailed as one pierced the corner of its eye where all the others had bounced off.

  “You will suffer for this,” it cried. “I shall savour every limb…” It lunged towards Fia, and she leapt across the wet rocks, continuing her attack. The thing laughed again as it snapped its great jaw towards her, missing her by inches.

  “Enough, Behrog!” a deep voice called from above Fia. The fireflies were nowhere to be seen. Maybe they’d fled in fear—she didn’t blame them—or worse, had been washed away by the water. Air rushed around her, and she wished for an angel to touch down beside her. Whatever it was that had spoken, she was grateful for its timing, but didn’t dare take her gaze away from the monster trying to make a meal of her.

  “Arion,” the creature in the water shouted. “This is no concern of yours!”

  A great winged horse, as large as the creature’s head, and as shaggy and rugged-looking as the giraffe-like animals in the valley beyond, landed on the glacial shore between Fia and the monster.

  “Leave here, Behrog, or I shall have the waters boil and cook you where you sit.”

  “But it wounded me, Arion…”

  “After you attacked. It tried to reason with you, did it not? Now go. Leave this place.” The horse rose, beating its wings with such a force that the serpent was shoved away from the shore. It was enough of a warning and with a grumble, the creature sunk into the icy depths of the lake.

  “Thank you,” Fia said through chattering teeth, pulling barnacles and bits of debris from her hair.

  “Think nothing of it,” Arion replied. “It is not safe here. Behrog could have a change of heart and return. I will take you somewhere safe.” He knelt, head low to the ground, and waited for Fia to climb astride his great back.

  Fia hesitated. She was soaking wet
in an icy valley and had almost been eaten. She’d no way of getting back to Mizune. What did she have to lose? With as much care as she could muster, and with a fistful of mane to balance her, she climbed up onto the back of the winged horse. Within moments they were airborne, up and away from the lake and over the rocks Fia had so desperately tried to traverse.

  A little way above, but safely out of Behrog’s reach, Arion settled down on a rocky ledge leading to a small opening in the rocks, just wide enough for shelter. From here, Fia could see the whole valley, and to her left, the witches’ forest. Within moments, the fireflies returned and lit fires at safe distances along the rocky ledge to ward off the cold air. Fia stripped off her outer layers and hung them to dry before sitting near the largest fire to get warm. Arion sat on his hind legs, head held high, wings folded neatly behind him.

  “I’m Fia,” she said, once the warmth returned to her muscles. “Thank you for your help back there.”

  “You have thanked me already,” Arion said, in smooth, deep tones. “And I know who you are. It is good to finally meet you. I am Arion.” He bowed his head a little as he spoke, dark strands of mane falling across his face.

  “You know me?” Fia asked.

  “The Sprites have told me who you are.” He flicked his head in the direction of the fireflies. “Fia, a fallen from Earth, friend of the angels, the witches, travelling companion of the Navarii, and a loquere, so it seems. You have made quite the mark on Ohinyan, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I…when you put it that way, yes,” Fia replied, hoping Arion would not understand the heat in her cheeks. “Behrog, what was it?”

  “Behrog was once, as many things in Ohinyan were, something entirely different. Much like the Sorren, who I believe you have had the pleasure of meeting. He once delighted in the simple life he had. He has the run of the glacial waters for much further than the eye can see from here. The water in this valley and beyond is connected by a series of icy tunnels beneath the surface, and he dominates the water. There was a time when Behrog would roam the waters and would come to the aid of anything in danger in the cold depths. But the darkness began to whisper to him, lonely as they both were, and he eventually became the thing you saw just now.”

  “That vision that I saw in the water. Behrog did it?”

  Arion nodded. “Yes. He has learned a few tricks over the years from the darkness.”

  “Erebus?”

  Arion hung his head low, his ears falling forwards. “Yes. He has been busy over the years. Patient, luring the creatures of Ohinyan to his side. Biding his time. Waiting.”

  The chill returned to Fia’s arms and she wrapped them tightly around herself, shifting closer to the fire. “Waiting for the sun to die?”

  “Waiting for the sun to die, for the right moment, yes,” Arion continued quietly. “At first I could only feel him.” He moved a great hoof outward in the dirt before him. “But then, I could hear him. He whispers to me. Calls me by name. Tells me we are alike, he and I, because we are alone.”

  Fia rubbed her palms against her knees. Erebus had been whispering to her, but she couldn’t bring herself to think about what it meant, not after his threat. “Are you alone?” she asked.

  Arion raised his head a little, his ears flicking upwards. “Alone in that I am the last of my kind. I was once connected to all the creatures of Ohinyan. By land and sea, I spoke with all those who were willing to share information and to keep abreast of all that is happening. I never felt alone.” Arion’s eyes were bright in the firelight.

  Connected to all the creatures of Ohinyan. Fia rose to her feet in a fluster, the realisation of how long she’d been gone settling in. “I need to get back. Alexander…they’ll be wondering where I am,” she said, gathering her belongings.

  “You’ll not make it back before dark. This valley is not safe even during the day, as you have discovered. Why would you risk the journey in darkness?”

  “I need to get back. I have information that could help—the Makya, they’re coming, and I need to warn the others what they’re up to.” As she spoke, she tested the dryness of her coat and heavy trousers, patting them over before pulling them on.

  “I can see you are very headstrong, Fia,” Arion said, as Fia put out the fires with fistfuls of dirt. She didn’t reply. She had been, before Sophie died, but she hadn’t felt that way for a while. But being in Ohinyan, there was a sense of purpose—everyone and everything had its place. Even Arion, the way he’d dealt with Behrog, the creature had recoiled in fear.

  Fia gathered the last of her things. “I appreciate what you did for me today, Arion. I won’t forget it. Will you come with me to Mizune, will you help us?” Her words came out in a rush. “If you don’t want to help, I’ll understand. It was a pleasure to meet you, truly.”

  He rose gracefully in one swift movement, stretching his wings to their fullest before folding them back. “I will take you. I would like to be of some assistance.” He knelt once more, head low, and waited for Fia. This time, she didn’t hesitate. Fia let the winged horse carry her back to Mizune.

  Herds of the giraffe-like creatures ambled below them, and the chill air stung against her cheeks as Arion picked up speed. The sun was setting, and the days were already growing shorter. What would become of this world when the sun died? “What do you know of the dying sun, Arion?” she shouted against the wind.

  “I will tell you all I know when we reach your friends,” he replied. He said no more, and they flew on in silence as Fia peered down at Ohinyan, far below.

  “Can you believe this, Soph,” she whispered to the wind, as the glacial valley disappeared from view, and the dense canopy of the witches’ forest swept across the ground, almost black in the twilight. The fireflies had been travelling with them, but now they spun around her head like they’d done several times that day, before diving into the canopy below. As they descended, they cried, “hurry, hurry,” one last time. She smiled, protecting her watery eyes against the wind as Arion carried her back to Mizune.

  Chapter Twenty–Six

  Alexander

  “What do you mean, you didn’t go with her?” Alexander dragged his fingers through his hair as he pressed Ilawu for a response. The snow fell thick and heavy, the wind was biting, and panic filled him as he thought of Fia out there alone.

  The huskies growled, and this time it was Maab who spoke. “Something big approaches.”

  “Alexander,” Fia called out through the blizzard. She sat comfortably astride a great winged horse, as if she’d done it every day of her life. Arion. His old friend touched down gently in the snow, and Alexander willed himself not to run to Fia.

  “Fia, where have you been? Are you all right?” He examined her quickly before pulling her into an embrace. She buried her face into his chest. She’s fine. She’s here.

  “Arion.” Alexander peeled himself away from Fia to place a gentle hand on the horse’s mane. “Thank you for bringing Fia back safely.”

  Arion whinnied in response, his head bobbing up and down.

  “He says it’s good to see his old friend.” Fia smiled.

  She could talk to Arion. Of course she could. Her cheeks were flushed, but she stood tall beside Arion. Alexander took Fia’s bow and quiver, noting the lack of arrows. He raised an eyebrow. “Did you meet with Noor’s coven?”

  “I did.” She pulled her arms across her chest. She was freezing.

  “Please, let’s go inside,” Alexander said. He took Fia’s hand in his, leading them through thick snow to the building where they’d watched the Mizunese perform their water skills. It was the only building big enough to house Arion comfortably, and what they had to discuss would need to be heard by everyone.

  Faces peered out from lamp-lit windows as the winged horse accompanied them through the streets of Mizune. Some stood at their doors in awe, drawing blankets tightly around their shoulders in the heavy snow. Alexander held his chin high, his hand around Fia’s, as Arion walked beside them.


  Blue light flooded the chamber of the meeting house, even though it was almost dark outside.

  “Alexander,” Altair began, with a deep intake of breath. “I see that you found—” He clasped a hand to his chest as Arion stepped into the light. “A winged horse…” He approached Arion slowly. His eyes were like a child’s as he gazed up at the great wings and the thick, shaggy mane. “I thought they had gone, long ago.” Astonishment glittered across his face.

  A snort erupted from Arion’s nostrils, and another soft whinny escaped from his lips.

  “He says all but him. His name is Arion,” Fia said.

  Arion bowed his head, as Yahto hesitantly stepped down into the chamber to join his father.

  “This is Yahto, leader of the Mizunese people, and his father, Altair, leader of the Navarii,” Fia continued.

  “It is an honour.” Altair bowed his head in return, and Alexander did not doubt his words.

  “It is indeed,” added Yahto. “Please, won’t all of you join us? There is much to discuss.”

  Alexander felt his chest swell with pride as Fia interpreted for Arion without hesitation. Was her finding him the witches’ doing?

  Arion sat, heavy hind legs folded with his front legs outstretched, towering over them. Maab and Enne had joined them. They were like two sides of the same coin; wherever one went, the other would follow, and their movements complemented each other’s.

  “Fia, how did you find the winged horse? How can you speak with him? He is the centre of many Mizunese myths, a symbol of our people. I have no doubt many trembled at the sight of you walking together through the streets of Mizune. It is, as my father says, a great honour to have you join us here tonight, Arion.” Yahto looked from Fia to Arion as he spoke, waiting patiently for Fia’s explanation.

  Arion folded his wings tight to his sides, as a Mizunese woman passed Fia a blanket. Alexander had not seen his old friend for many years, not since his mother was alive. But Arion had showed no signs of age.