That familiar feeling fought its way to the surface and snagged in Fia’s throat, but she coughed it back. It always caught her off guard, thinking about Sophie, Arion and Enne. Her parents. It always would. No matter how much time passed, she knew there would always be moments when their absence would feel like a fresh wound all over again.
The trees became even denser and the sounds of the camp faded away behind them. As they walked further into the forest, the canopy blocked out most of the light, and the air changed to the heavy scent of damp wood and moss. Fia looked up, at last, taking in the great trees that stretched up around them and the vines that hung like spiralling tendrils.
Shafts of light sliced their way through the trees, illuminating bright petals drifting down from the canopy. Fia watched them fall. They seemed to pulsate like miniature glowing parachutes, and she reached out a hand as one drifted towards her.
“Abelinas,” Aura said quietly beside her, holding out a hand of her own as the petals fell. “My mother used to say that they are the breath of spirits, that they carry whispers and words long forgotten. Listen.” Aura held hers to her ear, her eyes flickering to Lorn and then back to Fia again.
Fia followed suit, carefully lifting the glowing creature to her ear. “He’s looking for you,” the tiny thing breathed. Fia pulled it away as her heartbeat grew to a beating drum. No matter how much she wanted the little abelina to mean Alexander, a sickening feeling told her he wasn’t who it meant. She held out her hand and it parachuted away, back up towards the canopy.
“Stop playing with the wildlife,” Lorn hissed. “We’ll run out of daylight soon.”
Fia followed the group, the forest floor turning into an ascent that chased away the chill in the air. After a while, the trees opened out, and the terrain turned from mossy floor to rocks.
Only they weren’t rocks, Fia realised as they approached. It was a statue. Crumbling and old, most of the plinth had fallen away, covered in moss and something that looked not unlike ivy. Above the plinth, waves were carved, crashing over themselves and from them arose—mermaids. Fia had no other word for them. They had the bodies of humans and the tails of fish, just like the mermaids from stories on Earth. In the centre, a crowned male rose up, and either side of him sat two women, a mother and daughter, or sisters perhaps.
“Who are they?” Fia asked.
Jax replied, following her gaze. “Our royal family. The true royal family.”
Fia turned to see Evina, who looked as awestruck as she felt at the site of the great statue in the middle of the forest.
“Come,” Fia said, holding out a hand.
“Tell me,” Rainn asked as they pressed on. “Why is it so important that you return to Ohinyan?”
“Our sun is dying.”
Lorn clicked her tongue. “Our sun, Fia?”
Fia shot her a glare. “I’m not from Ohinyan. I come from a world called Earth. But Ohinyan is my home now. And the sun is dying. Everyone there will die if we don’t get back to help.”
“Why the two of you? What makes you so important?” Rainn’s expression was still schooled to bored and disinterested, but Fia replied, nonetheless.
“One of us is… one of us can rekindle the sun,” she said, stepping over a fallen tree branch.
Rainn’s eyebrows rose at that. “You don’t know which?”
“No, we don’t,” Lorn scoffed.
Fia ignored the Makya. “And someone has been trying to stop us. His name is Erebus, and he brought us to his prison in the Wastes where you found us.”
“We know of the ancient darkness.” Rainn’s words were lined with ice, and his expression darkened.
“You do?”
“It is because of him that our lands face such turmoil,” the angel said.
Evina rested a hand on Rainn’s arm and he caught her gaze. It was a gentle gesture, one Fia knew was meant to give comfort, but Rainn’s gaze lingered on Evina longer than Fia would have expected.
They’d reached a larger clearing, but one that was well hidden from any prying eyes from the camp.
Lorn cleared her throat. “This will be easier if we don’t have an audience. Perhaps you could go and explore the forest for a while. Talk to those… blinas, or whatever they are.” She raised an eyebrow at the others.
“Abelinas,” Aura said with a smirk. Jax huffed a laugh beside her.
Rainn crossed his arms over his chest as if he were thinking it over. “We won’t be far away.”
That was easy. So much about working with them had been easy. But then one look at the camps was all it took for Fia to know that they hated what had become of their lives. No one should be made to serve another unwillingly.
Jax grinned at them both. “Don’t burn each other to ash. Or the forest for that matter.” He held an arm out for Evina and she hooked one of her own around it before they followed Aura and Rainn back into the forest.
A fireball landed inches from Fia’s feet. “First lesson. Never take your eyes off your opponent.”
Fia rolled her eyes. “I’ve had combat training you know; I just need you to teach me how to control my power, nothing else.”
“You just have to suck the joy from everything, don’t you?”
Fia drew in a sharp breath but didn’t reply. What did Lorn know of joy anyway? Surely murdering and destroying didn’t bring her joy, did it? Maybe it did, and that was a far more alarming thought. She immediately regretted letting the others leave.
Lorn took a few steps closer. “Okay, let’s begin. I’m the target.”
“What?” Fia coughed.
“You heard me. You seem to work on motivation alone, so I’m your target. Try to hit me with some of that blue flame.”
“I could seriously wound you, Lorn.” Fia dragged her boot through the dead leaves littering the ground as she said it.
“Wouldn’t you just love that? But you’ll have to actually hit me first. Hurry up, the sun will be setting soon.”
Fia scrunched her brow and focused on the part of her where she imagined the power resided. Deep within her, just a tiny seed of blue light. She looked at Lorn. The way she held herself with a self-assured air, and all Fia could see was those orange flames killing her friend.
The flames bubbled up from within her, and she released a jet of blue from her palm in Lorn’s direction, but Lorn pivoted out of the way.
“Good,” Lorn said. “Now try again without scrunching up your face like you’ve just eaten a plate of week-old fish.”
Fia bit back a laugh. She’d never been good at hiding her emotions, but she could see how they would be a huge tell for Lorn. She took a step closer to the Makya and focused on that little chip of blue flame once again. The flames came this time in a stutter, but Fia wasn’t focusing on her fire—she was focusing on knocking Lorn off her feet and reached out for the Makya’s arm as she swiped behind a leg.
Lorn wasn’t expecting it, and her feet fell out from under her, but where Fia’s hand gripped, Lorn’s arm flashed with orange for a moment. Lorn narrowed her eyes as she shrugged Fia off. Fia considered commenting on it but decided against it, better to let Lorn do the talking.
“Again,” Lorn said, lacing her fingers through each other and stretching her arms out as if she were warming up.
Fia stepped away. She wouldn’t catch her off guard again, and she wasn’t sure how much harm the Makya’s flames would do to her. Lorn had injured Erebus, after all. She focused again, trying to keep her expression blank as she pulled on that little shimmer of light. It answered immediately, but she didn’t let go this time. She held it in her palms, focusing on her breathing as Erebus had taught her, letting the blue flame swirl between her hands like an orb.
“Are you going to stand there and play with it all day? Hit me.”
Fia looked up, wondering if she really should try to hit Lorn square in the chest. She wanted to. Oh, did she want to. But harming her might not be the best decision for Ohinyan. Still, Lorn would likely dodge her at
tack again, wouldn’t she? Fia released her ball of flame towards Lorn, but Lorn swatted it away with a fireball of her own.
“If you’re not going to try, we may as well head back to camp,” Lorn hissed.
Fine. If she wanted effort. Fia concentrated on her breathing again, on drawing that flame up and pulling it out as if it coursed through her veins, sending a ribbon of flames in Lorn’s direction. Lorn was ready. She sent a jet of her own flames back, and as blue met orange, Fia could feel Lorn’s magic as it touched hers.
Sweat began to bead at her brow, and Fia’s feet began to lose their grip against the force of Lorn’s inferno. “I can’t keep holding this, Lorn,” she said through gritted teeth. A headache bloomed across her temples and spread down her neck. “Lorn.”
Lorn ignited, let her whole body become engulfed in flames and Fia fell back into the dirt from the sudden surge. “You’re not concentrating hard enough,” Lorn shouted, already backing away.
A fireball landed somewhere beside Fia, but she didn’t care, she’d already closed her eyes, listening to the sound of her heart hammering in her head. “I’m exhausted, Lorn. You need to stop.”
Leaves crunched beside her. Lorn was most likely pacing again. Fia lay still on the ground, her palms pressed against her eyes as she counted her breaths. “I told you, I’m too tired,” she said.
A shadow passed over her, and a sense of dread snagged the air from Fia’s throat.
“Surely not,” a male voice replied.
Fia dropped her palms from her face and froze.
“Couldn’t you make an exception just this one time? For me?” Erebus leaned over her, those storm clouds turning darker, smokier than she’d remembered them.
“Get away from me,” Fia seethed, pushing herself to her feet as her headache pounded.
Erebus clicked his tongue. “I’m afraid that’s not going to happen. You’re coming with me,” he said, reaching out a hand.
Fia looked between him and Lorn where he held her in the wisps of his darkness. She could run for it, but that would leave Lorn alone with him, and what if the Makya really was the fire mother? Erebus’s grey wings flickered as he tilted his head to one side in anticipation, his hand still outstretched as if he expected her to take it.
“No,” Fia replied. He’d have to fight her, tackle her, whatever it took. She wasn’t ever going to go anywhere with him, ever again.
Chapter Fifteen
Lorn
L orn couldn’t move, couldn’t make a sound. Rage bubbled up inside her as she watched Erebus circle Fia.
“Both of you are coming with me. You’ve already wasted enough of my time on this little excursion of yours. Enough of Ohinyan’s time.” Erebus rolled his eyes as he looked from Fia to Lorn.
Lorn struggled against Erebus’s ethereal grasp, watching every move he and Fia made. Use your flames against him. But Fia hadn’t done anything but clamber to her feet.
“Let me guess,” the girl said. “Your plan is exactly the same as Lorn’s. Once you’ve figured out which of us is the fire mother, you’ll usher a new dawn unto Ohinyan.” Fia waved a hand dismissively as she spoke, avoiding Erebus’s advances.
“Only the fire mother can bring about the first dawn. Ohinyan will be in her debt, and by default, mine.” Erebus winked at Lorn as he spoke. He tightened his grip on her, but she wouldn’t waste her flames on the wisps of darkness wrapped around her, they were most likely ineffective against his shadows.
Fia was stepping closer, something Lorn was certain Erebus would not have missed. “What I don’t understand is why you think either of us would help you.”
“We’ve all had our differences. But now we seek a common goal. We all wish to see the third sun shine upon Ohinyan, do we not? Whether our purpose aligns…” Erebus looked at Lorn again. “And our purpose does align, does it not, Lorn?”
He freed whatever hold he had on her voice, but nothing more. “Release me!” Lorn demanded. “I wounded you once. Do not think I won’t do it again.”
Erebus laughed. “I’m counting on it.” He dispersed into his cloak of darkness and reappeared beside Fia, his gaze still fixed on Lorn. “We can help each other get what we want, Lorn. Ohinyan will bow to us. An entire world to command at our fingertips. We’ve had our quarrel. We both bear the wounds to show for it. Let’s move on, shall we?” He waved a hand towards the wounds across his chest and on his ribs where she had injured him.
Lorn would not share Ohinyan with him. Not with anyone. Once she rekindled the sun, Ohinyan would be hers. Those that did not worship her would be turned to ash. And yet… Erebus had his uses. For one thing, he was a ticket out of this disgusting world and back to Ohinyan. Their power combined could be a marvel, something the inhabitants of Ohinyan would no doubt revere. Or cower to, but both suited Lorn just fine.
Silence fell across the forest for a moment, save for something chirping in the distance. “Were you always this way?” Fia finally asked.
Erebus stilled. “I am a creature of circumstance. As are we all.” He bowed his head and held out his hands as he spoke, as if he truly believed it. Lorn considered her own upbringing. Every moment of her life had been about becoming the fire mother—up until her people had sided with the angels, that is. She examined the wounds she had inflicted upon Erebus as he stood before them in the angels’ image. And wounds they were indeed, for there was no sign of them healing, only the pallid greying to the skin around them and the sheen of sweat upon Erebus’s brow.
Fia said nothing in response, and Erebus’s hold on Lorn’s voice resumed. “Your wounds haven’t healed,” Fia said, turning to face him. A breeze carried a few strands of her hair away from its fastening and Lorn wanted to scream at her, to command her to summon those blue flames and turn them against him. But Fia did not.
Erebus clicked his tongue. “An unfortunate consequence of my investigations.” He shot a look at Lorn again. “One I need you to rectify,” he said, turning his attention back to Fia. “Before we return to Ohinyan.”
“We’ve been through this,” Fia sighed. “One, I can’t. And two, I wouldn’t even if I could.” She looked to the trees beyond them, searching for the angels, no doubt. “Where are the others?”
There was no sound from the forest beyond, yet they couldn’t have gone far. Fia was right to question it. The last of the light was fading, it would soon be dark.
“Chasing a shadow,” Erebus said, his hands clasped in front of him. The feathers on his wings fluttered in the breeze and a smirk rested across his face. The lines of his white tattoo seemed brighter against his skin than the last time Lorn had seen him, perhaps because of his injuries.
Working together could be an option, she supposed. A means to an end. He had healed her, after all, if not somewhat reluctantly. If only because the girl couldn’t do it herself. He’s using you, Lorn told herself. But she felt an odd sort of kinship in that; something she could relate to.
And she had been the one to injure him, not Fia. Surely that was answer enough to the question they all asked. Surely she was the fire mother, not Fia. Lorn would not allow the idea of anything contrary to take root.
“A shadow? So you’ve sent them on a wild goose chase around the forest?” the girl asked.
“If that’s what they call it on Earth, then yes. Now, you will heal me, or Lorn will cease to breathe.” Erebus turned to face her, and Lorn caught the unmistakeable darkness that seemed to come alive in his eyes. His threat was empty, she knew. He wouldn’t risk her. Not yet. But did Fia know that?
The girl crossed her arms over her chest and held her chin high. “Go on then.”
Lorn choked as Erebus tightened his grip. You wouldn’t dare. Yet she knew he would, just for the spectacle of it. Just enough to make Fia believe him.
The girl didn’t flinch. Perhaps she wouldn’t intervene after all. Erebus squeezed tighter, and Lorn’s vision spotted with black.
“Wait,” Fia said as she stepped forwards. “We still need her.”
Erebus’s expression brightened. “We?”
“Ohinyan might still need her. If she truly is the fire mother.” Fia shook her head. “Just tell me what to do.”
Lorn sucked in a breath as Erebus released his grip. A convincing display. A little too convincing, but Lorn would endure it.
“You’ll need to come much closer than that,” Erebus said.
Fia rolled her eyes. “Are you going to hold her like that in your shadows forever? You might need to trust her at some point, you know.”
Erebus looked to Lorn, and she held his gaze. Yes, perfect. Let him feel safe. Let him feel in control. Until the right moment when she’d be ready to strike.
Fia stepped up to Erebus, but Lorn was too far away to hear what he mumbled to the girl. She let the world blur around her; she had no desire to watch any moments of intimacy pass between them. Instead she thought of her training, of the years she had dedicated to becoming the fire mother.
Her entire life had been devoted to that one task and she would not see it wasted. Whatever this girl was, she was not the fire mother. I am. Lorn felt her flames sparking to life inside her and knew then that she could shift into flames whether Erebus held her in his grasp or not. A piece of information she would tuck away for later when she truly needed it.
Perhaps she could experiment with him. Put his abilities to the test. See which were of use and which were not. He was a creature of circumstance, set to purpose by the loss of his love. But Lorn had never known love and had no desire to know it. What she craved from others was their fear. Their admiration. Their obedience. And she would have it. From Ohinyan. From Erebus. From all of them.
“Focus on your breathing,” she heard Erebus say. Lorn looked up to see Erebus’s hand over Fia’s, just above his wound, and she found herself wondering what Aura’s hands might feel like in hers. If they’d be calloused and rough from holding a blade, or if her touch was smooth. Lorn sucked in a breath. She’d add adoration to the list of qualities she sought from others.
The First Dawn (Daughter of the Phoenix Book Three) Page 11