Alina turned to her, frowning.
‘That is not my name.’
Surprise passed fleetingly over Mareena’s features, though she quickly masked it behind the calm veneer of royalty. But Alina had seen the falter, the blink.
‘I don’t understand,’ Mareena said quietly.
‘Names have power,’ Alina replied. ‘And that is something I no longer possess.’
Mareena gave a slow nod, her expression thoughtful. ‘Then what should I call you?’
Alina turned her back on her, focusing once more on the blades. She lifted her hand and let the third blade fly. It struck the mark, clean and certain, just as the others had.
She didn’t tell anyone that each time her blade found its target, she imagined Hagan’s face in its place.
And now, Saren’s too.
A slow, wicked smile curved Alina’s lips, something dark and sharp that did not belong to a girl grieving, but to something far more dangerous.
‘Call me nothing,’ she said, voice low and cold. ‘Nothing at all.’
…
Alina took quiet pleasure in becoming a shadow, a slip of silence that moved unnoticed through the winding streets. Perhaps it wasn’t her stealth that concealed her so much as the apathy of the crowd. Few spared a second glance for a lone girl clad in desert robes, weaving through alleyways or scaling rooftops with silent ease.
The phoenixian city of Kairus was, without question, the most magnificent place Alina had ever seen. It sprawled endlessly in every direction, a living labyrinth of stone and sun. The buildings rose in square-cut tiers, crafted from sand-huedstone, with arched doors and windows carved into their walls like ancient poetry. Here, their god loomed not just in legend, but in form. Colossal statues of the same sun-bleached stone stood watch across the city, silent sentinels that seemed to watch eternally upon their people.
Rivers wound through the streets like silver ribbons, some meant for ritual cleansing, to wash feet and hands before entering sacred spaces whilst others were crafted purely for beauty, filled with vibrant, darting fish in every shade of jewel and flame.
Alina often climbed a building on the city’s edge, one that granted her an unbroken view of the desert beyond. There, she would sit in solitude, watching as the sun dipped low and spilt fire across the dunes.
There was little to see in the distance, only shifting sands and wind-worn hills, but it soothed something deep within her to look out at the world that had once belonged so wholly to Hessa.
She suspected the Phanax—the phoenixian elite guard—knew precisely where she perched each evening, but none had ever spoken a word, not while Mareena’s protection lingered over her like a silent vow.
Settling more comfortably against the warm stone, Alina drew down the cloth around her mouth—the karash—and pulled a small red fruit from her sleeve. With a flick of her blade, she sliced off a piece. Its sweetness burst across her tongue, so rich and tender it transported her briefly back to her homeland, to the taste of sugared pears dipped in honey, the kind served during the warmest summer moons.
Alina could still remember the day the phoenix had swept across the skies, its piercing cry alerting the Phanax to her presence.
She had followed its blazing form for as long as her body allowed, stumbling beneath the weight of heat and exhaustion until, at last, she collapsed.
She had awoken in the palace, drenched in sweat and dust, with Mareena seated beside her, eyes filled with a silent, unanswered question.
For two full days, Alina had refused to speak. No matter how gently or insistently they asked, her lips remained sealed. But on the third day, with tears slipping down her cheeks as she lay crumpled in the vast, unfamiliar bed, she told Mareena everything.
Now, she wasn’t quite sure what path she was walking.
She had no army. No homeland. No people to call her own.
She was a lone figure carved from grief and vengeance, with a heart hollowed by loss.
Yet she knew she needed to become more. Faster, stronger, sharper and deep down, she understood that learning from the Phanax would offer her an edge she could not afford to ignore.
She took another bite of the red fruit, letting its sweetness melt on her tongue, and turned her eyes back to the desert. The endless sea of sand soothed her. The way the wind swept across it, reshaping it with each breath, calmed the storm in her chest.
‘You need to eat more, amira,’ said the voice beside her. ‘You’ve lost too much weight. You can’t fight like this.’
Alina smiled faintly at the phantom with Hessa’s face.
