The song cuts off, and the creature whips toward the trembling, white-faced couple behind her. They both holds swords, waving the blades at the creature.
For a moment, a tense silence grips the air.
Then the firebird widens her maw and emits a sound that feels like a saw cutting through the very fabric of the world.
The smaller of the two elves swings her sword. It arcs through the air, coming perilously close to slashing the bird’s gut.
“Stop!” I cry out. “You can’t harm her!”
But it’s too late.
The firebird sees them for the threat they are. The creature slashes her talons at the woman, and the sharp tip punches through her chest. The woman screams. Blood sprays from the gaping wound. She collapses, her head hitting the ground with a nauseating crunch.
Still trembling, the man shouts wordlessly and drives forward at the beast.
His blade slices the firebird’s leg, spraying dark blood into the air. He pulls his sword to his chest, then lunges.
The world around me seems to slow. I reach out, desperate to stop him, but all I can do is watch in horror.
He stabs the creature’s gut. A horriblecrunchfollows.
The firebird screams—a terrible, mournful wail, like her earlier song has been twisted into pain. She beats her powerful wings once, then twice, and then she’s gone, hurtling into the blackness of the sky.
“Get inside!” The shout comes from the hills behind me.
I whirl toward the sound, heart hammering. The cloaked stranger rushes down the hill, three firebirds in blazing pursuit. Each one is at least twice as large as the first, their golden plumes so bright it feels like staring into the sun.
“Inside!” the stranger shouts again.
Flames fill the air.
The inn’s door bursts open. Someone grabs my arm and yanks me inside. The stranger and the trembling man stumble in just behind me, barely ahead of the creatures. With a heavy slam, the door shuts, cutting off the heat of the firebird’s flames.
Silence crashes over the room. The innkeeper grips the counter, knuckles white, eyes wide with fear.
A scorched scent hangs in the air. I catch a glimpse at the trembling man’s face—ashen, eyes locked on his boots, where the firebird’s dark blood stains the leather.
“You…you killed one?” the innkeeper whispers.
The man flinches. His voice is rough, ragged. “Efa’s dead. And you care more about the damn firebirds?”
The innkeeper looks down at the counter, silent. Our firebirds are sacred. Their blood is never to be spilled.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” the stranger growls at the man. Then, with a brusque shake of his head, he throws up his hands and stalks up the stairs, leaving the rest of us frozen in shock.
The cry of gulls pierces my dreamless sleep. I burrow deeper beneath the covers, reluctant to leave the cocoon of warmth. Then a hundred different aches lance through me, jolting me awake. My breath fogs the cold air. Above, mildew crawls over an unfamiliar ceiling of pale gray stone.
This is not home.
My blood runs cold as the reality of my situation comes into focus.
After the firebird attack last night, I went straight to bed, barely touching the rest of my dinner. I found I didn’t have much of an appetite after seeing a woman’s chest ripped open.
I am only one day into my assignment, and already I’ve stared into the face of death. I shudder to imagine what today might bring.
A sigh escapes between my lips, but I force myself to move. Fresh aches flare through my body as I climb out from beneath the heavy blanket and look around the room. I didn’t pay much attention to it when I crawled into bed last night.
The curved interior holds only a few key pieces. The small bed takes up most of the room, leaving just enough space for a weathered armoire and a faded armchair beside the window, positioned to face the view.
