Fireborn

by David Dalglish

  Cheers erupted from the crowd. Bree shook her head, a sour taste filling her mouth. Easy for them to cheer and clap when they wouldn’t be the ones donning plate mail or bleeding in the skies.

  “Listen well,” he continued. “We have been fed lies. We have swallowed truth wrapped in razor wire. Friends have been made enemies, and I must...we must make amends.”

  He struggled to project his voice despite the pain.

  “I want this message spread to all the people of Galen. I am sorry. Whatever crimes we believed you committed against us, I pardon. Whatever crimes we have committed upon you, I beg forgiveness. Rip the red bands from your arms and streets. You are not our enemy. You never were.”

  Isaac drew the sword from his hip and held the sparkling blade high in the sunlight.

  “Center is our enemy,” he said. “Marius Prakt our foe. We are at war, Weshern. I declare it with all my heart. War...and we shall emerge victorious. I trust in us. I trust in you. Victory comes. It comes...”

  His voice had lost volume with every word, and finally he paused and turned away from the crowd. Bree saw the face he wished to hide, one overwhelmed with pain. As the silence stretched on, claps began, few at first, then spreading like wildfire. Cheers joined in, chants of “Weshern” and “The Archon lives.” Tears filled Isaac’s eyes, and he let them fall as he turned back to the crowd.

  “Thank you,” he said. Hardly any could hear, but they didn’t need to. The emotion was plain as day upon their Archon’s face. Avila took her husband’s weight upon her shoulder, and together they descended the steps and slid back into the wagon. Bree checked the closed cathedral doors. Still no sign of Kael. She turned back, telling herself not to assume the worst.

  With Isaac’s departure, Johan assumed his spot, and he lifted his arms high to gather the people’s attention.

  “Your Archon speaks the truth,” he said, his voice carrying over the crowd. “War comes, but you are not alone. Rebellions are stirring on the other three minor islands, men and women willing to die to free themselves from Center’s centuries of oppression. The hour is almost at hand, my children. Stand strong, with fists raised to the heavens. Bleed for one another, die for one another, and you will see a dream come true for your children, a life of hope and plenty, slave to no one but God and his angels.”

  He paused to let a cheer fade.

  “You are not alone, but you were the first,” he continued. “As such, you will carry great honor in the tomes of history, but you will also bear the brunt of the Speaker’s retaliation. Stay strong, people of Weshern, and remember you are not alone. My disciples will bring what supplies we may, all to ensure your brave fighting men and women have the tools they need to overthrow Marius’s rule once and for all!”

  Another cheer.

  “This is a historic hour, full of significance and sorrow,” Johan said as the crowd died down. “But true heroism should not go unnoticed amid the chaos. It should shine bright, and fuel our own efforts. Breanna Skyborn, would you join me?”

  He looked to her, his hand outstretched. Bree swallowed, and it felt like nails were lodged in her throat. She slowly rose to her feet, wincing at the pain in her aching muscles. Amid scattered applause, Bree joined Johan at the top of the cathedral stairs. Nickolas’s blood was still on her, and she desperately wished she could wipe it away.

  “Her name is known to you all,” Johan continued, and he beamed at Bree with pride. “The Phoenix of Weshern, and she has earned that title ten times over. Without her this rebellion may have foundered before it ever began. Twice now she has slain knight lieutenants of Center, and many more knights have fallen to her fire. No one in the history of Weshern can claim such casualties against the Speaker and his trained killers. A legend stands before you, a force so terrible even Center quakes in fear of her name. Show her your appreciation, people of Weshern. Let me hear the love you feel for your heroes.”

  Bree’s face flushed full red as she heard the cheers and applause grow. If only she could feel as proud of slaying Nickolas as the others did. If only she believed she was as incredible as Johan proclaimed her to be.

  The cathedral doors opened behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder. Kael exited the glass building, his face as pale as winter frost. Two disciples escorted him out. He met her eyes, sensed her unasked question, and mouthed the words “I’m fine.” Bree didn’t believe it for a second, and she wished she could go and ask, but she had her duties.

  Turning back, Bree drew a single sword, and she slid the flat edge of her blade across the wound on her left hand, bathing the steel red with fresh blood.

  War is about more than casualties, Argus had once told her. And so she would play her part. Closing her eyes, she sensed her blood, sensed the lingering power of the fireborn within it. Eyes still closed, she lifted the blade to the air. Let the people whisper among themselves, debate if it were a dream, illusion, or God’s own blessing. With a thought she bathed her sword in flame, a single, swirling sheath that lasted no longer than a heartbeat. The crowd roared at the ruthless slayer of Weshern’s enemies, one without dread of the coming war, without fear of the coming battles, without guilt for the lives lost.

  A statue of the Phoenix, a legend more important than herself, a name and a concept instead of a person.

  Everything Johan warned her she’d become.

  CHAPTER

  33

  Later that night, Kael landed beside his sister and shut off his wings. Her hands were crossed in her lap, her legs dangling off the edge of their world. Bree’s wings lay behind her, harness removed and carefully placed on the soft grass. A heavy wind blew across them, something Kael had noticed was stronger since the dome’s collapse. A heavy cloud drifted close overhead, sealing away the sky.

  “I thought I’d find you here,” Kael said as he carefully took a seat at the edge. “Where else would you be this late at night?”

  “You know me so well,” Bree said, a hint of mockery in her voice. They sat at the edge of Weshern not far from Aunt Bethy’s home, in the same spot they’d witnessed the battle that had claimed their parents. Kael nudged Bree’s side but said nothing. She winked, then gestured to the ocean far below.

  “Look,” she said. “It’s changed.”

  He peered down, and a shudder ran through him at what he saw. The crawling darkness no longer dominated the sky. Instead it flowed beneath them, burying the ocean beneath its inky blackness. It slowly drifted like a dark fog, whisps of it curling upward before dissipating. No matter which direction he looked, that shadow spread as far as the eye could see.

  “There’s no dome for it to crawl across,” Kael said. “So now it flows beneath.”

  “I thought the same,” Bree said. She shook her head. “I was hoping we’d be free of it, but it looks like I was wrong.”

  Kael leaned away from the edge, and despite still wearing his wings, he had to fight down a momentary sense of vertigo.

  “There’s something else,” he said. “It doesn’t burn. The midnight fire is gone.”

  Bree rested her chin on her palms as she peered back down over the edge.

  “The fireborn must not be among its forces,” she said. “I wonder why.”

  “Well, should we encounter them again, I’ll try to keep one alive for questioning,” Kael said.

  Bree shuddered.

  “Forget it,” she said. “I pray we never see those hateful things again. If you do, destroy them at once. We were never meant to live among such monsters.”

  Kael tapped the grass, wishing to bring up the matter of the Crystal Cathedral but nervous to do so. It wasn’t that he feared she wouldn’t believe him. If anyone in all of Weshern would understand he told the truth, it would be her. No, he feared what she’d tell him to do about it.

  “Devi was looking for you,” Kael said, deciding to bring up a different topic first, though it was by no means more pleasant.

  “About what?”

  He swallowed down a surge of emot
ions.

  “Because of your...reputation, she thinks it’d be best if you write a few letters notifying kin of the deceased, particularly those you knew personally.”

  Her face flinched the tiniest bit in the darkness.

  “You mean Brad.”

  Kael nodded.

  “Yeah. Instructor Kime, too. I doubt it’s Devi’s idea, honestly. I know she’s in charge of this stuff, but I think Rebecca’s the one suggesting it.”

  “Of course,” Bree said, and she sniffled. “We need to make sure the people know the Phoenix joins them in mourning even the lowliest members of our resistance. I’m sure Rebecca will add a few flowery words to the end of my letters to convince people I’m a brilliant poet, too. It’s all politics and games, and I’m stuck in the damn middle of it.”

  Kael took her hand in his, and he squeezed it tightly.

  “Then say no,” he said. “You’re not their puppet. Besides, I...I want to be the one to write Brad’s parents. I want them to know how great a friend he was. I want them to know that no matter how hard or awful things got, he suffered through it all because he wanted to make them proud.”

  Bree squeezed his hand back.

  “Don’t forget to tell them how much that guy could eat,” she said, leaning her head on his shoulder. “The cooks trembled in fear of his passage.”

  Kael chuckled despite the wetness of his eyes.

  “Did you ever hear him snore?” he asked. “God, it sounded like a saw scraping against a stone wall.”

  “I never heard it, but I certainly heard you complain about it every single day that first month at the academy. I’d say it’s a toss-up as to which was worse.”

  She laughed, and Kael felt so thankful for her presence. Brad might be gone, but Kael had the memories of them together, good memories, and he wouldn’t let his sorrow prevent him from enjoying each and every one. Somehow Bree knew that, too. Kael shook her off his shoulder, and he looked back to the world-swallowing darkness.

  “What do you think happens now?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” Bree said. “I expect Marius will try to retaliate at some point, but Johan insists Center suffered far worse from the fireborn than we did. They may not have the resources to attack, especially if Sothren, Candren, and Elern all join us in declaring our freedom.”

  “If they’re so badly hurt, it may not convince them to withdraw,” Kael said. “It might just make them that much more desperate.”

  Bree glanced to her right, toward the far-distant Center.

  “Let them try,” she said. “We’ll be waiting, and we’ll be ready.”

  Kael nodded, his stomach tightening. He had to tell Bree. Being the only one to know the truth was killing him, and just like with the existence of the demons, he didn’t know what to do, nor what to believe.

  “Bree,” he said, “this is going to sound insane, but I have to tell you. Will you promise you’ll listen?”

  Bree frowned at him.

  “Of course I will,” she said. “I’m insulted you even had to ask.”

  Kael took in a deep breath.

  “All right, then,” he said. “It started when I first broke into the Crystal Cathedral to rescue you...”

  He told her of his dreams, his meeting with L’fae, the visions of the Ascension, the lightborn’s creation of the protective dome, everything. Bree listened silently, waiting for him to finish. When he did, he slumped forward, head in his hands.

  “I don’t know what to do,” he said. “I don’t know who’d believe me, or what I’d even gain in spreading the truth.”

  “Have you told anyone else?” she asked.

  “Not yet,” Kael said. “I wanted to tell you first. Figured I’d let you have the honor of telling me I’m crazy.”

  “I can set my blood aflame with a thought,” Bree said. “This entire world may be crazy, but I don’t think you are.”

  Kael laughed, stunned by his own relief at finally sharing the secret with his sister.

  “It is a little crazy,” he said. “So what should I do?”

  “What did L’fae want you to do?”

  “To tell the world,” Kael said. He rolled his eyes. “As if it would be that easy. I mean, I want to, but...I don’t know, Bree. People will think I’ve lost my mind, and it’s not like I can drag people down there to meet her. Johan wouldn’t allow it. Galen fell because someone killed the lightborn inside it that powered its Beam, and if someone were to do the same here...”

  Bree pulled him closer, comforting him.

  “Just give it a few days to think on it,” she said. “We’re peeling back a lot of lies the theotechs have fed us for centuries. It’s going to take some time to work through it all.”

  Sensible enough advice. Kael nodded, and he gently leaned away from his sister.

  “L’fae said I had the blood of a lightborn with me,” he said. “What our blood can do, and our affinities...I think that’s what caused it all, Bree. Something the theotechs did changed our blood to be more like those creatures.”

  Bree shivered beside him.

  “I know,” she said. “I...can sense it now. It’s not hard, not when you know it’s there. When I fought Nickolas, I ignited my own blood to burn his eyes.” She shook her head. “At least you have the blood of angels in you. What of my fire? The blood of demons fills my veins.”

  She stared at her bandaged hand.

  “What does that even make me?” she asked.

  “It makes you my sister,” Kael said. “And it changes nothing.”

  Her mood turned sour.

  “Angels,” she said. “We survive by the blood of angels. You know what this means, don’t you?”

  Kael didn’t, and he told her so.

  “Marius’s title,” she said. “Speaker for the Angels. It’s not symbolic. It’s not archaic. It’s real. At any time he wishes, he can go to the center of our islands and hear their words.” She tore a chunk of grass and cast it over the side of Weshern. “It makes him that much more of a monster. He bleeds demons to sell as elements to our armies, then swears the demons were destroyed in the Ascension. He hears the word of angels, yet then tells us his own. For centuries we’ve listened and obeyed. No longer, Kael. We have to win this war. The secrecy, the deception, we can end it all.”

  “Well, you can,” Kael said, nudging her. “The Phoenix can do anything. I’ll be relaxing in the background, waiting for you to wake me when you’ve won the war.”

  “Not a chance. You’re part of Phoenix Squad, which means I’m relying on you to keep me alive when Center’s army finally comes. Try not to relax too much. I’d hate to die because you’ve gotten lazy and rusty.”

  Kael saluted.

  “If you insist,” he said.

  The land brightened, and both Kael and Bree looked to the sky. The low-flying cloud had drifted along as they talked, and with its departure the moon’s light shone down upon them. Kael stared at it, stunned by its vibrancy. Always before it was a faint thing, swallowed by the crawling darkness before the sun ever completed its descent. Not anymore. Kael leaned back, and a calm swept over him as he looked up at the brilliant field of stars on all sides of the moon. They spanned the entire darkness, little white diamonds, a masterful painting on a canvas so distant not even their Seraphim wings could ever reach it.

  “There’s so many,” Bree said, and Kael heard the awe in her voice, awe he felt in his chest.

  “No drawing ever did it justice,” Kael said. “Imagine every person on every island seeing these same stars for the first time tonight.”

  “And all because Galen fell,” Bree said.

  It was a somber reminder of the cost such beauty demanded.

  “Our islands are no longer safe, and thousands have already died,” he said. “Was it worth it?”

  Thin tears trickled down Bree’s face as she stared up at the stars.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Perhaps we aren’t safe anymore, but I don’t care. Now we see the world
for how it truly is. It’s dangerous, Kael, but it’s beautiful, so beautiful.”

  She lay on her back, hands beneath her head. Kael removed his wings, reclined beside her, and together they watched the stars, for the first time in centuries free to shine without shadow and fire sealing their light away.

  CHAPTER

  34

  Marius walked alongside Er’el Jaina through the towering gates of Heavenstone. Normally, entering the ancient stone fortress of the theotechs relaxed him, but not anymore. Scorch marks lined the lower portions of the stone. Even here, where his might was at its greatest, the fireborn had made their presence known. They’d died ripping at the doors and spitting fire at the archers. No fear. No hesitation. Just a mad desire to slaughter.

  “The other three islands have begun mustering their militaries, but so far none have made declarations or engaged our troops like Weshern has,” Jaina said as they crossed the crimson carpet lined with pillars. There were no traders or carts of tribute, not today. All of Center was recovering from the fireborn invasion. It might be weeks before things returned to a semblance of normality, and that was an optimistic assessment. “They’ve stockpiled elements, established patrols watching for our knights, and stationed soldiers along the island edges. All of it is under the guise of protecting against further fireborn attacks, of course.”

  “That’s how it starts,” Marius said. “Preparation, arming of troops, testing our responses. They sense weakness, and they’re not wrong. If only they realized the true danger lurking underneath their very noses.”

  They passed through a heavy set of doors at the far end, the entrance flanked by two golden-armored knights. The walls seemed to shrink, no longer decorated with curtains and paintings, the floor now bare stone. They were beyond the public eye. Such frivolities weren’t necessary.

  “The people’s trust in us has never been lower,” Jaina said. “I blame anarchists like Johan for that.”

  “The fault is ours as much as his,” Marius said as they entered a winding staircase. Up it led to more than a dozen floors filled with bunks, washrooms, and mess halls to house his knights and the lower-ranking members of the theotechs. Down led to many more rooms, these carefully guarded and off-limits to many even within the theotech order. Marius touched the steel railing and began the climb down.