Though peace, I knew, never lingered long. Not for those chosen by flame.
The final war crept closer with every breath. The Enemy—older than the world itself and no longer bound—was stronger than it had been since the first sealing. This lull, this laughter, was only the hush before the world burned again.
I looked to the girl who was not a girl, knowing the losses already behind us were only the opening notes of a much crueler symphony. One family. One love. One long-lost shard of her soul—torn from her by forces beyond her reach, beyond even mine.
And losing the Serpent a second time had nearly shattered her, though he’d stood as their enemy before the watching world. Even after unveiling himself, he had not beggedfor forgiveness. And yet, when the crowd cheered his supposed death months later, she had slipped from the wolf’s room unnoticed, ascending the sandstone cliffs alone.
I had touched Bran’s mind then, whispered for him to follow.
He hadn’t understood why she wept, curled in shadow, biting into her own arm to choke the sobs. But he held her. All through the night, until the desert sky burned pink and she rebuilt her smile like armor, never speaking of it again.
She didn’t know the Serpent’s soul had not yet crossed the gates. That I had nudged events to a different conclusion. That their story wasn’t finished.
She would need both halves of her missing self for what was coming.
And flame willing, we’d all survive it.
Chapter twenty-nine
“Howcouldyousavehim?” Thorn wheezed beside her. Blood seeped through his fingers, staining the dark fabric of his woven Hollow-born uniform. The Ember Reach crest was barely visible on his sleeve as he clutched the wound at his side. “We were finally rid of him! And you…you went and practically brought him back to life! Tell me why!”
The wind whipped around them as they soared high above the forest on the broad back of the massive transport eagle. The ceaseless beat of its wings, each one large enough to cast a shadow across the treetops far below, filled the air with a powerful rush of sound.
As Thorn's rasping words dissolved into a fit of coughing, his shoulders hunched inward. The unshakable composure he always carried had crumbled, and she couldn’t even blame him. Not after what she had done.
Her mouth opened and closed. “I… I…”
“I agreed to share everything I learned about the enemy while captive in exchange for Rynna’s assistance in escaping.” The smooth, unhurried voice of Ember Reach’s greatest traitor interrupted them from where he was secured to the bird’s saddle.
Thorn glared at the man before turning back to Rynna and raising an eyebrow expectantly.
Rynna glanced at the cause of all the drama.
Perched in the center of the bird’s back was a thin man of modest height, sitting cross-legged as if the chaos around him meant nothing. His chin rested lazily in the palmof his hand, a single finger tapping idly against his cheek. His long black hair fluttered in the wind, barely shifting despite their speed. The dark, weathered robes of a Vessel, or master level Hollow-born, clung to his wiry frame, worn loose but sharp, much like the man himself. His serpent-like eyes were half-lidded, yet his gaze drifted in her direction.
But the relaxed façade was only a mask. Rynna knew him. Or at least, she had known the man he’d been over fifty years ago, a truth known only to Fire Reach’s leader, the Ember Warden, and Fenn. Perhaps she didn’t know this Kaelith at all. The man she may have loved the first time the Weaving sent her to this world might be long gone.
She shot him a hard look. They’d never agreed to a deal. It wasn’t why she had freed him, and they both knew it. But he was giving her a convenient excuse, a way to cloak her reckless decision in logic when it came to explaining why they were bringing him back.
“We need the intel, Vessel Thorn,” she said, even as the villain’s lips curved into a slight, knowing smirk. “He has it.” She couldn’t bring herself to outright lie, but she would play along, for now.
“She’s right,” the eagle’s rider added from the bird’s helm, still scanning the terrain beneath them. “We know next to nothing about the enemy, other than that they have a massive army and want the Great Phoenix, wherever she may be.”
“Shit.” Another cough rattled through the injured man, blood flecking his lips. “Fine. Let the Wardens deal with him. They can argue over which Reach will get to interrogate him.” He swiped a hand across his mouth, then slumped forward, his strength fading.
Without hesitation, Rynna crawled toward him, careful not to disturb the bird’s large but delicate feathers. She shrugged off her pack and tucked it beneath Thorn’s head, creating a makeshift pillow as she eased him into a more comfortable position.
“It’s a long flight back to headquarters, Vessell.” She tightened the bandage around his waist, pulling a twig from his belt. “I can handle things the rest of the trip.” She cast another glance at Kaelith, who hadn’t moved an inch. “He’s not going anywhere. Last I checked, flying wasn’t in his bag of tricks.”
The man barely managed a grunt in response before his eyes fluttered shut and his breathing evened into unconsciousness.
Thorn's training to resist pain was legendary. Her fellow Novices and Awakened held him as an almost impossible standard. Yet, even with that reputation, she couldn’t fathom how he had stayed conscious for so long after she’d pulled him from the enemy’s lair. They’d had him for weeks, desperate to extract anything he knew about the location of the Great Phoenix.
Her gaze lingered on the man for a beat longer, tracing the exhaustion carved into his face, before a voice, smooth and rich with amusement, cut through the air, yanking her focus away.
“Flying may not be in my ‘bag of tricks,’ pet, but I’ve mastered enough dark arts to make any Vessel envious.”
Kaelith.
