She started coughing then, a dry, rasping sound that plainly came from deep inside.
Veronyka squeezed her hand and looked up at the others, who each wore subdued expressions.
She wanted to fight, to bring the healer here—to do something—but it was clear that what Morra wanted was peace.
Her eyes fluttered, her breath rattled, and she reached out her other hand. Veronyka didn’t know what for, until Ignix bowed her head and pressed her beak into Morra’s open palm.
“The world’s first phoenix. You did me a great honor carrying me here, Old One—gave me a funeral parade the likes of myself could never have hoped for. And a last chance to see the world that way… from on high.”
Veronyka’s vision sparkled, and when Morra’s hand dropped, she did not move again. The hand Veronyka held was slack too, and she laid it gently down.
Sparrow was staring off into the middle distance, uncertain, but then Elliot bent and whispered to her, and her face crumpled. Veronyka noticed for the first time that Sparrow wore a sling on her arm and was quite bruised and banged up herself.
“Thank you,” Veronyka said as she stood, addressing their small group. Tristan’s hand was on her back, rubbing slow circles, though she didn’t recall when he’d put it there. It felt as if it had been there all along. “For bringing her back, for taking care of her. For taking care of each other.”
Elliot nodded, glancing down at Sparrow, who was stroking her raven’s shining feathers.
“It makes it easier, somehow.”
Veronyka didn’t know exactly what she was trying to say. Sometimes she felt as if she carried the whole world upon her shoulders—and never had she felt more bent with the effort than she did at this moment, with Morra’s words still ringing in her ears.
Despair opened like a chasm beneath her feet, threatening to pull her under, but Veronyka could not let it.
She turned to Ignix, the world’s first phoenix, just as Morra had said. Surely she would know something of value for the battle ahead. Surely she was the missing piece to Veronyka’s rapidly crumbling plans.
Come on, then, Ignix said, as if she’d heard Veronyka’s thoughts. She flew away without another word.
Tristan pulled Veronyka gently around, his expression inquisitive as he ducked his head, trying to catch her eye. He opened himself to her, offering all he had to give.
Will you—can you…? She struggled to speak the words, even in her mind, as she stared down at Morra.
I’ll take care of it, he promised. I’ll take care of her.
And she knew he would.
Ignix had left the clearing and had flown to Prosperity’s second tower—all that remained of the ancient, original structure. Veronyka was both desperate to talk to the phoenix and afraid of what she might say.
As Tristan spoke quietly to the others, Xephyra fluttered over. She nudged Veronyka in the chest, and it was a surprise when Rex was there too, doing the same. Tristan glanced over his shoulder, a soft, tender look on his face to see his bondmate comforting Veronyka, before he turned back to the task at hand.
Their shared presence bolstered Veronyka, a mix of life and love and magic that brought her back to herself. The stars twinkled, the trees rustled, and all manner of creatures croaked and trilled and chittered away.
Veronyka patted Rex fondly before climbing into Xephyra’s saddle. They soared the short distance to the tower, Xephyra dropping her on the building’s sloping roof before departing again.
“I’m glad you’re alive,” Veronyka said, sitting on the ledge next to the phoenix. She was different from the last time Veronyka had seen her, raging at Val and predicting their coming doom. She seemed oddly at peace. “And Sparrow, too.”
Ignix followed Veronyka’s gaze as she looked toward the clearing where they’d left the others behind.
She is a good chick.
There was affection in her voice that Veronyka had not heard before. Her lips tugged up at the corners before grief and fear dragged them down again.
“I’ve been wondering,” Veronyka began, picking at a groove in the stone beneath her. “Did you accept Avalkyra’s challenge at the Eyrie because you were the only one who could defeat her? Apex against apex?”
Yes and no. It is true that only another apex can match her, but that apex was never me. I was weaker than her even then, and now? I wouldn’t stand a chance.
“But you’re the world’s first phoenix, over a thousand years old,” Veronyka said, somewhat desperately. “How could anyone be better than you?”
They both knew that when she said “anyone,” she really meant herself.
My bondmates are ashes on the wind, and this flock does not know me. I am little more than a ghost to them.
“Not a ghost—a living legend. No one could challenge you.”
Perhaps not, she conceded. But there is someone I could bow down to instead.
“Why me?” Veronyka said, barely above a whisper.
I think you know why, Ignix said gently. You are the ideal choice to replace me. Your flock admires and supports you, and your human bondmate would make the perfect benex. Plus, you are bonded to her, which means you know our foe better than any other. Better than I, certainly. It must be you.
Veronyka swallowed, trying to gather her courage.
I know it is a burden, Ignix said. I have borne it many long years. But you are not alone. Those you love will help carry the load.
“I wish they wouldn’t,” Veronyka said. “I wish I could take all the danger and make it my own.”
Ignix turned an understanding gaze on her. That is the mistake Avalkyra makes—the mistake I myself have made—and it is the surest way to fail. Together, as Axura intended. We were never meant to be alone.
That was the heart of magic, wasn’t it? Togetherness. With every new facet learned and ability discovered, Veronyka saw that it was all about connection, about lifelong ties and the strength that came from them. It was hands held in the dark. It was the stars against the black of night—one alone was not enough, but together the sky was alive with glittering light. And what was apex magic if not the epitome of that truth?
Her bond to Xephyra made Veronyka strong and brave. Her bond to Tristan made her life richer, her expression and understanding of love deeper. Even her bond to Val had changed her irrevocably and taught her what could happen if she let herself succumb to great sorrow and loss.
What might dozens give her? And more to the point, what might she give to them in turn?
“How did you manage it alone for a thousand years?” Veronyka asked in awe.
I wasn’t alone for as long as that. Closer to eight hundred years, in fact.
“Does that mean…? Did Nefyra really rule as queen of Pyra for two hundred years?”
Ignix inclined her head. Axura had chosen her—had chosen us—to defeat the strixes, and so, the goddess gifted her with long life to match mine, so that we might finish what we started and see the battle through to its end. Nefyra’s life was tied to the war. Once it was finished… so was she. Then I was truly alone. The pain was… Well, it changed me. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing another, so I tried to protect myself, to wear my apex status as a shield. But while it may have safeguarded my heart—and kept the burden of the apex from falling on the shoulders of any other—it also isolated me.
Veronyka couldn’t fathom such loneliness, but she also understood the impulse to protect others. To carry the responsibility alone.
I failed to see that connections are what give such a power purpose. And so I forged none and saw only the duty. The obligation. I forgot what it was to share the load. I forgot what it was to have companions and comrades.
Veronyka saw Val in Ignix’s words and recognized what might have allowed Val to break into the phoenix’s mind in the first place. A life without connection was a cold and lonely one, and it was clearly something the two had in common. Val saw her love for Pheronia as a fatal flaw and the one great mistake of her
past. She was determined to learn from it, to love nothing and no one. In some ways it made her stronger—it certainly gave her less to lose—but like Ignix said, her power lacked purpose. What would she do with it if she succeeded and there was no one left to hate and nothing left to destroy? She’d become an empty shell, much like Ignix had been.
Veronyka expelled a slow breath. Just like the throne, she knew the apex power was a gift and a curse, a boon and a burden—and that it was better to seize it for herself than to let Val wield it unchallenged.
“How do we do it? Become the apex pair? Do we have to challenge you?”
Ignix’s eyes crinkled, almost like a smile. You need not battle me, daughter of Ashfires. What you seek will be freely given—from me and from your flock. Phoenixes admire bravery and heart, love and self-sacrifice, and you have given them that in spades. They are already more yours than mine.
The words made Veronyka’s cheeks hot. Such praise coming from anyone would be overwhelming, but coming from apex Ignix, Nefyra’s own bondmate?
“But if there’s no true challenge… how do I get them to accept Xephyra as apex? To bow before us?”
Ignix twitched her wing. Nefyra had only to ask.
A question answered was better than one that was never asked at all. Like magic as a whole, it could be forced and demanded—or it could be requested and bestowed, and it had never been in Veronyka to take.
Not that she relished the idea of standing before the Phoenix Riders and asking them to bow to her. Asking them to give her power over them.
“What did Avalkyra and Morra mean when they said the height of apex powers? There’s something more than the group bond, isn’t there? Something to do with a benex?”
There is. It is called heartfire.
The word conjured the image of Ignix on the outskirts of Ferro, enraged as she spouted a fountain of flame from her beak. “I saw you use it before, didn’t I?”
Ignix nodded gravely.
“Is that what Avalkyra wanted? To be able to make heartfire?”
Indeed. Only an apex-benex bond can achieve it.
“But how did you?”
The bond survives death, Ignix said simply. And I have been bonded to Nefyra for a long time. Also, the Ashfire bloodline has kept the connection alive and strong. The Lightbringer line survives too, I think.
“Callysta was Nefyra’s benex?” Veronyka asked, momentarily transported into the world of history and legend that she’d adored so much as a child… and which often felt a bit too real recently. “And the Lightbringer bloodline is still intact?”
Ignix fixed Veronyka with an amused look as she was bombarded with questions. Yes, she was—and yes, I believe it is. I sense Nefyra in you, just as I sense Callysta in her.
“Who?” Veronyka whispered, though somehow, she already knew.
The little bird, of course. Sparrow.
A soft smile spread across Veronyka’s face. “Does she know?”
I do not think so. Yours is not the only bloodline that lost some of its daughters along the way.
“Tell me about heartfire. Is that how you destroyed the strixes?”
It is a powerful weapon. It can destroy, create, and unmake. It is Axura’s own flame, hotter than the sun. Strixes can survive a brush with phoenix fire, just as a phoenix can survive contact with a strix’s shadows. But touch them with a single spark of heartfire and their entire body will burst into flame.
A shiver went down Veronyka’s spine. She understood why Val would covet that power so fiercely, even if she would never want it for herself. It was too much power, too much responsibility. And yet… it would be the fastest way to end the fighting. It could save lives—the lives of her friends and family—even if using it would make Veronyka’s stomach turn.
Val had hatched more than a hundred strixes, which meant Veronyka would have to kill more than a hundred strixes. For all their wrongness, their dark intent and soul-sucking power, they were animals. They were living, breathing beings with minds of their own, however foreign to her. And they were only back in this world because Val had summoned them.
Veronyka hated to condemn them to death for the will of their master.
“Was it hard?” Veronyka asked. “To kill so many?”
Yes, but none were as hard as the last. She was my Shadow Twin.
“Your what?” Veronyka thought she might have heard the term before.… For some reason, it made her think of Val.
My False Sister—the apex strix. We were both first of our kind, born together… and destined to kill each other. Only with her death was our mission complete and the world safe.
Veronyka’s heart went cold. Ignix’s words were about the past, but they felt prophetic. Much as she wanted to hide from the truth in them—in all she had heard tonight—she knew she couldn’t.
Being apex would be a burden. It would put lives in her hands and give her the kind of power and control she had never wanted. But if that power was given freely and not taken or forced, if that power was earned and not bestowed by birth and blood… it could be wielded with care and in defense of those she loved.
Maybe it wasn’t what she wanted for herself.
But if she and Val were destined to clash, Veronyka must win.
She would bear the burden because she wouldn’t wish it upon another.
She would be their sword, their shield, their light in the darkness.
It was not the same as being a queen… but it was not so different, either.
The Everlasting Flame burned for nearly a thousand years.
Some said it was a clock, counting down until the fall of the queendom.
Others claimed it was a beacon, lighting the way home.
But the Everlasting Flame was not just any fire. It was Axura’s fire, blazing not from wing nor feather—but from heart and soul.
—Myths and Legends of the Golden Empire and Beyond, a compilation of stories and accounts, the Morian Archives, 101 AE
And so I will give it to her. I will keep fighting the same war I fought centuries ago.
- CHAPTER 48 - TRISTAN
TRISTAN WAS ALL OUT of sorts when he arrived at the Rider Council meeting. He hadn’t seen Veronyka since she disappeared to talk to Ignix, and he’d been busy ensuring that Morra’s body was carefully preserved until they could have a funeral pyre. Tristan insisted on carrying her himself—he’d promised Veronyka he’d see to it, hadn’t he?—and only once she was laid down in a quiet room, a blanket pulled over her body, did he attend to the rest of his duties.
He should have spoken to Elliot, gotten a full report on what had happened in their time apart or sought out his patrol members. As it was, he managed only to look in on Anders—unconscious, with Latham by his side—before making his way to the commander’s rooms.
Veronyka arrived not long after him.
She kept her head down, murmuring apologies before standing next to Tristan.
She wasn’t okay; she hadn’t been since their run-in with Val, and Morra’s death—and whatever that ancient phoenix had said to her since—wasn’t helping.
Everything rested on her: Val and her strix army, the empire and its vacant throne. Worst of all, their plan had not worked, and though Tristan didn’t fully understand the magic at play here, he knew that things were going to get worse before they got better.
Despite all that, when he caught her eye, her gaze was steady and her jaw set. She was shaken, not broken. It was one of the things he loved most about her.… No matter how many times she was knocked down, Veronyka always stood back up.
Tristan returned his attention to the group, which included Fallon, Darius, Beryk, Alexiya, Tristan, and Veronyka. Beryk was still heavily bandaged from the strix attack at the Eyrie, but it was good to see him on his feet again.
The table before them was spread with maps and letters, with carved obsidian markers indicating empire troops and Avalkyra’s army.
They hadn’t done more than catch up on the day’s event
s before Veronyka arrived.
Once they were settled again, Beryk’s tired gaze fell on Tristan. “I received a letter from your father.”
“My father?” His heart squeezed—had his condition worsened? Was he going to call them back to Haven?
“He sent explicit instructions for how we are to proceed,” Beryk continued. He noted the wary expression on Tristan’s face, and his lips turned up at the corners before he looked down to relay the letter’s contents. “He apologizes for disregarding the order of command, but considering his present condition, has requested that you replace him as commander for the interim and gives you his full support.”
“You?” Tristan repeated. “You who?”
Beryk smirked. “You you.” He cleared his throat and read aloud, “ ‘Tristan is fully apprised of the situation here and in Pyra, and provided he consults with Veronyka, would be best suited to lead the Phoenix Riders for the foreseeable future.’ ”
Tristan realized his mouth was hanging open. He snapped it shut, trying to find the right words. He was confused, elated—confused again—but also uncomfortable. His father’s second-in-command was meant to take the lead if and when the commander himself was unable to perform his duties.
“Beryk, I…”
“It’s clear to me,” Beryk said, speaking over Tristan’s attempts at a response, “that the commander—excuse me, former commander—has the right of it. I am not in much better shape than he is, truth be told, and I do not wish to contest his decree or claim my position in the order of command. Times are changing, and the war we fight today is vastly different from the war I fought seventeen years ago. We’re all in over our heads, and I seek only this: to be helpful. So, Commander Tristan, tell me how to help you, and I will do everything in my power to do so.”
Tristan looked around the table, expecting surprise or even outrage. But Fallon only watched the proceedings with mild interest, while Darius appeared wholly focused on the grim picture the map with its markers painted before them. Alexiya examined her fingernails.
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