Across the river, the soldiers seemed to sense that something wasn’t right—that their strategy might be changing. They edged nearer the water, heedless of the cries of oncoming strixes, and started to climb on the rickety beams of wood. They were utterly vulnerable out over the river, but whatever confidence Tristan had instilled in them was quickly dwindling.
“Fine,” General Rast snapped, drawing a sword from his belt. “I’ll do it myself.”
Tristan stepped backward and unsheathed his dagger—a less-than-ideal match against a sword, but it was all he had. His jaw clenched, with both annoyance and frustration. “You came here to fight, General. Why are you backing out now?”
“I came here to win,” he spat. “I came here to accept your surrender. To prove a point and finish what I started. I did not sign up for this.”
The soldiers surrounding them continued to watch, uncertain, but Tristan couldn’t expect any of them to come to his defense.
“General, they’re overwhelming the northern banks!” a soldier cried out. Heads swiveled in that direction, including Tristan’s. Rex and many of the soldiers were being swarmed. Rex was barely visible in the melee, and Tristan felt a true pulse of fear. Here he was, dealing with stubborn pride and fragile egos, while his bondmate was fighting for his life.
With a curse, Tristan put away his dagger and reached for his bow instead, determined to help Rex, but the general wasn’t finished with him. He lifted his sword, bringing the tip to Tristan’s throat. One good thrust, and that would be it.
Tristan took a careful step back, but the rush of the river—and the ten-foot drop into it—was not far off. “General Rast, why don’t we—” he began, but the man closed the distance between them, teeth bared, and Tristan knew he was out of time.
An earsplitting screech rent the air, and Tristan whirled around to see a massive phoenix come out of nowhere, ripping past and colliding hard with the general.
He went flying one way and his sword the other, but both wound up in the river. The firebird wheeled back up into the sky, and Tristan’s heart soared when he recognized Maximian. He bore a Rider, but it wasn’t his father—it was Veronyka’s, holding on for dear life. Distantly, impossibly, a chorus of additional phoenixes took up the cry.
Tristan gaped, and he wasn’t the only one. Every soldier on both sides of the river did as well, and even the strixes that had been surrounding Rex squawked and jumped, startled, into the sky.
There were twenty, maybe even thirty Phoenix Riders tearing toward them. They didn’t slow or stop but crashed into the strixes with explosive vengeance, beaks snapping, talons flashing. A cheer went up from the soldiers—empire soldiers cheering and clapping at the arrival of Phoenix Riders.
Rex extricated himself with their help, rushing to Tristan’s side. After they checked each other for injuries, Tristan hugged him tightly, then took a closer look at their rescuers.
Theryn had come with the Phoenix Riders from Haven. Tristan knew what his arrival would mean for Veronyka and waved his hands to get the man’s attention.
“She’s on the northern front!” he shouted.
Max came in for a landing, intending to stay here, so Theryn quickly dismounted and flagged down Jonny so he could climb onto his saddle instead. The reinforcements split, some following Theryn to help Veronyka and the rest staying behind with Tristan.
He frowned again at the group. Their numbers didn’t make any sense—there were only a dozen phoenixes at Haven, so who were these others? Where had they come from? Theryn had mentioned other Riders hiding in Arboria.… Had they somehow recruited fighters to their cause?
And then he spotted Theo… riding a phoenix. Her phoenix, surely. It couldn’t be, could it? The captured phoenixes from Aura Nova… Tristan’s mouth hung open. Sev and Kade were among them too, with Sev riding in the saddle behind Kade. Had they done this?
As Daniel got the soldiers to form ranks and the phoenixes cleared a path over the bridge, giving room for line upon line of fighters to charge through, Tristan thought that maybe they weren’t so outnumbered after all.
That maybe they could even win.
I thought I was here to teach them, but they have taught me instead, these bright young things.
- CHAPTER 62 - VERONYKA
SOMETHING WAS HAPPENING HERE, something Veronyka had only just begun to understand.
Phoenixes and strixes… they weren’t separate species, hell-bent on destroying one another. They weren’t even personifications of the goddesses Axura and Nox. They were like any living thing.… They gave back what was put in, only in their cases it was tenfold. Give them love and life and warmth, and they grew into phoenixes.
Give them hatred and hunger and cold, and they grew into strixes.
It had been in front of her all along—it was even in their creation myths. Born from the same rocks, the same eggs, but turning into either a phoenix or a strix, depending on who hatched them.
Veronyka had always seen their separate existences as an irrevocable sentence. A state of being that could not be changed.
But what if it could?
What had Ignix said about heartfire? It can destroy, create, and unmake.
Val had been living off cold hate for years, but once she had been bright as phoenix fire and able to bond to a creature of light, no matter her darkness. In fact, wasn’t Nox herself once a phoenix? Until her endless hunger, her vast longing, consumed her?
People could change. They could be reborn. They could be unmade and remade all over again.
Xephyra was thrumming beneath her, alive with Veronyka’s thoughts and the swirling possibilities of the heat coiling within her.
Val was still fighting with a vengeance, still determined not to concern herself with Veronyka quite yet, even though she’d just used heartfire again. One of the catapults launched a massive rock Val’s way, annoying her enough to loop around and attack it, a trail of strixes following behind her.
The distraction bought Veronyka time to experiment.
Spotting a solitary strix, Veronyka urged Xephyra to chase it away from the battle, giving them a chance to attack with more deliberation. Again Veronyka’s chest began to swell with building heat, the power coming from way down deep, making her feel both hollow and expansive—empty and explosive.
With a great, fiery burst, Xephyra hit the strix in the shoulder joint of its left wing—and something strange happened.
Typically the strixes burned up quickly, like paper, dissolving into nothing and blowing away on the wind. But this time there was that flash of red, a sheen of scarlet against the inky darkness of its plumage, and the creature pumped its wings once, twice—desperately—before at last being consumed by the blistering heat.
But there had been something, a flicker of possibility.…Veronyka thought back to when she’d seen Ignix breathe fire. She remembered the sight of her great rib cage swelling, glowing from within—the incandescent light spilling around her feathers, suffusing them with color and gilding them like the sun forcing its way through the clouds.
She also thought of the feeling she had when Xephyra built her fire… the way it seemed to coalesce behind Veronyka’s breastbone, as if she were holding a firestorm inside her chest. Heartfire, indeed.
And then it clicked.
It was their hearts. Xephyra had to hit them in their hearts.
Ever since the strixes had arrived in her life, Veronyka had been confronted with nothing but death and destruction. But here was a chance at something else, bright and pure as the dawn, and she had to chase it.
Soaring back toward the battlefield, Xephyra bobbed and weaved, setting her sights on another solitary strix. It took nothing but a shriek to draw the creature toward them, and Veronyka saw now that the strixes didn’t chase them so much as hunt them, like a starving wolf that’s sighted its first deer in weeks. Frenzied with hunger and wild with panic—that was how the strixes flew, how they followed Xephyra and the rest of the phoenixes, their desperatio
n only ratcheted up by the presence of their fellows, who were competition, not companions. This, too, was how Val felt about friends and so-called allies—that was why Sidra was her servant, not her equal or the benex to her apex. That was why she and Veronyka now faced each other as enemies, not sisters. Not family.
This time when Xephyra gained a lead and whipped around, her aim was careful and true—directly into the heart of the coming strix.
The creature seemed to freeze in midair, its wings outstretched, its head tilted upward in agony or ecstasy—Veronyka couldn’t be sure. But Xephyra’s heartfire didn’t incinerate the strix or cause it to go crashing to the ground. Instead, the flames licked and spread—emanating from that burning heart—until they covered the bird but somehow didn’t consume it. It almost looked like a phoenix as it pumped its flaming wings, a smoldering ember trying to catch fire. It picked up speed, the strix shrieking and flying and burning. Had they found a new, more painful way to kill the sorry creatures?
The strixes nearby actually halted their flight to watch, and so too did the Phoenix Riders and soldiers below. The entire battlefield ground to a halt as the burning strix continued to fly, struggling and veering almost drunkenly, but still aloft. Still alive.
Veronyka sensed something then, something beyond the pain and hunger she usually felt from them. It was the gentlest of whispers, and when she reached, she found she wasn’t using shadow magic as she had to with the other strixes, but animal magic instead.
It was the barest flicker, like a guttering candle. Fighting, struggling against a strong wind.
But then Veronyka was there, soothing, comforting, welcoming this new creature into an old world. Into her world, into her flock. Another shriek and a great flap of flaming wings—crimson wings, feathers bright as blood and tipped in golden honey. The darkness was gone, burnt and cast away like ashes on the wind.
Triumph blazed inside Veronyka’s lungs, searing her with every breath, and tears stung her eyes. The creature had been frightened and alone, but Veronyka had shown it the way. Had ushered it back to the light.
A chorus of phoenix song filled the night, causing the strixes to cower and flutter around frantically, while the firebirds soared and arced and expelled great gusts of flame. Sparks swirled and danced through the air, and suddenly the shadows didn’t seem so dark.
Xephyra crowed in excitement, and Veronyka sought out their next target.
This was how she’d win this war. Not with death and violence, but with hope.
They’d barely moved when a silent presence loomed behind them. Veronyka whipped up her bow, only to find herself face-to-face with Ignix. She appeared angry and agitated, heat crackling in the air, but since Sparrow still rode in her saddle, she didn’t ignite.
“What’s wrong?” Veronyka asked, already reaching into her mind. She’d been preoccupied throughout the fight, but never more than in the past few minutes. Last she remembered, Elliot and Ignix had been flying away from the battle.
“We were ambushed as we tried to escape,” Elliot explained, launching arrows in a defensive arc, giving them time to speak. “Jax got my father and sister to safety, but Ignix never had a chance to land.”
“Are you okay, Sparrow?” Veronyka called out.
She jumped, her body rigid in the saddle. “Been better,” she said. Her raven friend squawked, and she nodded. “Also been worse.”
Veronyka smiled, despite everything, but Ignix tossed her head to bring the attention back to herself.
You know not what you do, she said, before turning her ancient gaze on Xephyra. Only Axura’s heartfire is truly limitless.
“You said heartfire could make and unmake, that it could create.… That’s what we’re doing,” Veronyka explained. “We don’t have to kill them. We can set them free.”
Ignix looked away. I’ve never seen such a thing.… I fear it will come at a terrible price.
“Then I’ll pay it—we’ll pay it,” Veronyka said angrily, and Xephyra shrieked her agreement. “Don’t you see we have to try? Instead of slaughtering dozens of strixes, we could make dozens of phoenixes! We could save the empire and everyone in it.”
When you give them heartfire, you’re also giving pieces of yourself. The cost—
“If I have to die, then so be it!” Veronyka shouted. “We will stop this. We will stop her.”
Xephyra moved to go, but Ignix blocked them again.
There are worse things than death, she warned, the words hanging in the air.
Xephyra cried out a sudden warning, and Veronyka and Ignix looked around.
Avalkyra Ashfire was on the move and coming straight for them.
Go, Ignix said, moving in front of Xephyra—no longer to block, but to protect. I will keep the so-called queen busy.
“Alone?” Veronyka demanded.
Ignix cocked her head. No, not alone, she said, glancing over her shoulder at Sparrow. Elliot, too, soared next to them, bow drawn and ready to fight. Together.
Veronyka’s nodded. Thank you.
Then Xephyra sprang into flight, tearing through the sky, determination humming through the bond. They would make this work—they had to.
They could save them all.
Veronyka looked over her shoulder as Ignix and Onyx prepared to clash in the sky.
Maybe they could even save Val.
They have taught me how to love and love and love, even if it consumes you.
- CHAPTER 63 - AVALKYRA
AVALKYRA HAD NEVER SEEN anything like it.
And she had seen many things.
She had seen life, and death, and that place in between.
She had seen the sky fall, the earth shake… the foundations of the empire crumble.
She had lost much. She had taken more.
Still, she had never seen anything like this.
A fire-breathing phoenix, spouting not the flames of destruction, but the flames of resurrection.
Veronyka was more than a queen, more than an Ashfire.… She was Axura herself, making phoenixes, creating them from nothing.
No, it was even more than that. She was taking the empty vessels of Avalkyra’s horde and filling them up, up, up until the aching hunger and endless yearning were satisfied.
She was giving the darkness what it had sought all along. She was giving it light.
Avalkyra gritted her teeth and clenched her fists so tightly, the spear in her hands snapped clean in half. She chucked it away and refocused.
Just as she had felt her strixes dying, she could feel the moment of conversion when she lost a member of her horde. But because she was bonded to Veronyka, she could also feel when the new-made phoenix joined Veronyka’s flock instead.
Veronyka was not just weakening Avalkyra’s power—she was stealing it.
Rage scorched Avalkyra’s chest and seared her lungs. Every breath burned with the fire of it. She had known that heartfire was a possibility—had even expected it, given Veronyka’s bond to Cassian and Olanna’s brat. But she had also known that Veronyka was soft, that she would hesitate and hold back. Avalkyra had counted on it.
But this? How much more could she be expected to take? How many more chances could she give?
Veronyka, like her mother before her, was the one obstacle Avalkyra could not overcome. She would take Avalkyra’s strixes one by one, and then, if she had a backbone, she’d come for Avalkyra.
Unless Avalkyra came for her first—while she still had the power of the horde. While she was still bonded to an apex.
Onyx shot through the sky like an arrow, Veronyka in her sights, but then that cursed, ancient phoenix loomed up before them. Onyx squawked and brought them up short, trying to go around, but Ignix blocked their flight path.
“Out of my way, no-longer-apex,” Avalkyra drawled. Ignix had a passenger on her back, some tiny little thing, and there was another Rider pair nearby. “I need to have a word with my niece.”
I’m afraid I can’t allow that, Ignix replied calmly, bobbin
g up and down before her.
“You don’t allow me to do anything,” Avalkyra snapped. “I am still Apex Master.”
Ignix tilted her head thoughtfully. For now.
Avalkyra bared her teeth. She would shut this phoenix up once and for all.
Onyx shrieked and pumped her wings fast, no longer trying to avoid colliding with the phoenix, but rather aiming for it.
Onyx was fast, but Ignix was faster. She tucked her wings and rolled, dodging the impact by inches. Avalkyra cursed as Onyx banked hard and flew back around. Again they tried to crash into the foul firebird—and again, the creature rolled out of the way.
But for all her elegant acrobatics, Ignix’s size made her slower. Onyx was gaining on her, and already Avalkyra could feel her talons tearing into the phoenix’s flesh, her beak ripping out feathers. Tasting blood.
Her attack was thwarted again, this time by the other Phoenix Rider, who blocked their strike—not with avoidance tactics and tricky maneuvers but with artillery.
Avalkyra wobbled in the saddle as Onyx veered off course to avoid the arrows, and with a curse, Avalkyra grabbed her bow and launched a return volley. She didn’t bother to aim, just loosed them in the other Rider’s general direction, forcing them into a retreat. Then she reached for the nearest strixes and sent several after them for good measure before refocusing on her prize.
This time, when she and Onyx drew near, a damned raven dove in front of her face. Avalkyra swatted at it, but it wasn’t alone. All manner of winged critters burst out of the night, circling her head like a cloud of midges. Pigeons and doves and sparrows, too, snapping and scraping and squawking in her ears.
Animages, Avalkyra thought bitterly, knowing that girl on Ignix’s back was to blame.
Avalkyra reached tentatively, but her animal magic was all but dried up. She couldn’t connect to a single one of them.
With a cry of frustration, she swatted and batted them aside. When that failed to deter them, she pushed Onyx into a vicious barrel roll. The abrupt dive lost the worst of them, but Avalkyra came up scratched and bloody.
Wings of Shadow Page 54