The Oracle. A Fury. Or fury-born. There was no way of knowing for sure. Shecouldhave been one of the original three sisters, but odds were, those very old souls would never leave their sanctuary. I’d heard only their children roamed Fuerlis now.
White robes clung to her thin frame, soaked through, but revealing nothing. Her blindfold was simple cloth, frayed at the edges, likely old beyond measure. As a fury-born, she had a touch of ancient magic, the kind that existed before the newest cities, before the kingdoms and countries, before the scorched learned to hide from the things that hunted in the dark.
A massive raven perched on the Oracle’s shoulder, its head swiveling in slow, deliberate arcs. Obviously watching what she couldn’t see. Its obsidian eyes reflected the lightning, sharp as black glass. Though now she was free of the rain, she stood at the platform’s edge, water dripping from her robes, and waited. The silence stretched until it became unbearable, until people started shifting their weight, clearing their throats, desperate for any sound to break the spell she’d cast.
When she finally spoke, her voice rose from everywhere and nowhere, amplified by magic until it seemed to emerge from thestones beneath our feet. “Three nights past, beneath the Blood Moon’s light, an attempt was made upon my life.”
The crowd exploded. Shouts of outrage. Gasps of disbelief.
Who would dare? Who could even get close enough to try?
She raised her hand, and silence fell again.
“A coward’s poison in my wine.” Her voice cracked—actually cracked—and the sound was worse than screaming. “And tonight, a blade in the dark. Magic twisted to murderous purpose.”
My chest tightened. This wasn’t just an announcement. This was mourning, barely contained, threatening to spill over and drown us all.
“It grieves me.” The words came softer now, almost a whisper that somehow reached every ear. She couldn’t express the pain with her eyes, but her voice, her genuine sadness was enough to penetrate every heart that stood before her. “It grieves me beyond measure to speak this name. To reveal this truth. But silence would be the greater evil, and I know you will all feel the same way. I have seen it. I have felt it. I have known it for a very long time.”
She reached into her robes with trembling hands. Whatever she was about to show us, she didn’t want to. This wasn’t justice. This was something else. Something that sounded like regret. But in that, the crowd hung on every syllable. A scroll appeared in her grip, rolled tight as a weapon. “She who would silence a fury-born with blade and poison deserves this.”
The world held its breath.
She unrolled it slowly, as if revealing each inch cost her something precious. I wanted to look away. See the eyes of the raven. The Magistrate. Anyone. But the Oracle held me pinned to the cobblestone road. The parchment caught the light, glowing white against the dark sky, and an image began to formabove the platform, visible from every angle, painted in light and magic and terrible clarity.
Green eyes appeared first. Familiar eyes that sparkled with mischief and defiance. Then the curve of a cheek I’d know from any perspective. A mouth that had whispered secrets in the dark, that had laughed at my jokes. That had kept me grounded.
Vitoria’s face stared back at us, perfect in every detail.
The world tilted sideways, and I might have fallen if Calder hadn’t shifted, his body shielding mine, steadying me without seeming to move. But the image remained, burning into my mind as if no other memory of her existed beyond this one, impossible to unsee.
That was Vitoria.MyVitoria. The woman who sang off-key in the bath, who stole honey cakes from the kitchen just to piss Calder off, who could make flower crowns from weeds and light from shadows. Who’d cried at the end of my bed when she couldn’t save a cinderpup she’d found in an alley, abandoned by its mother. This wasn’t someone who would plot the death of the Oracle. Even with direct orders from Eda Mire, it simply wouldn’t have happened. Vitoria faked her own death after her parents were killed. She wasn’t perfect, but she never pulled a job without Calder. Especially one that would prove she was alive after all these years of hiding, had anything gone wrong.
“Behold the Phoenix.” The Oracle’s words fell like stones into still water, sending ripples of shock through the crowd. “Vitoria Nindle.”
Her full name echoed off the buildings, each syllable a funeral bell. The crowd shifted from confusion to murmuring recognition. The Phoenix. Here. Among them. Hidden in plain sight.
No.
Fuck no.
The word screamed through my mind, but I couldn’t voice it. Couldn’t draw attention. Couldn’t reveal what only I knew, what Gran had carved from my flesh with blade and determination and desperate love.
Iwas the Phoenix. I had always been the Phoenix. Vitoria was fire, yes, but notthefire. Never that.
Someone had framed her.
I couldn’t breathe beyond that one cold truth. Someone knew about her magic, knew about her unregistered status. Someone saw an opportunity to pin the world’s greatest fear on a convenient target while the real Phoenix remained hidden, unsuspected. My poor sister.
The word ‘Phoenix’ appeared across her face in the image above the platform, and the crowd’s reaction was visceral. Calling for blood, screaming for the hunter’s justice. Someone even threw a rock at the image, though it didn’t make it past the wards.
Something warm pressed against my ankle through the crowd. Silas, in his smallest form, trembling with rage. Not fear. I was sure he didn’t know fear. But I could feel the way his anger wrapped around mine. His instincts screamed to shift, to grow, to tear apart the threats surrounding us.
Hold Silas. Wait.
Tiberius stepped forward. But satisfaction flickered beneath the surface of his gruesome smile, anticipation for what came next. He dipped his chin to the Oracle, respectful but not subservient.
“Given the severity of these crimes, and in accordance with our most ancient laws,” he paused, letting the tension build until it was almost unbearable. For me, mostly. Because what the fuck were we going to do to save her? “There will be a Mortalis.”
