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“Keep them back!” Draga roared somewhere above me. “Shoot if they get too close.”

His words echoed around us—would they really shoot down Skyworld monsters that were already becoming extinct?

Another scream echoed around us and shuddered through my bones. But the rogues were circling, not attacking. And the beautiful white one dipped lower, close enough that its eyes pierced mine—dark, glittering globes with flecks of flames in her irises.

I shuddered as an Ash Phoenix swept by my bars. Not a drawing in a forbidden book. Not one of the faded creatures stitched into the surviving Annatalian tapestries Ember hid beneath the floorboards. A real one with a soft underbelly and huge silver-tipped flight feathers. For one impossible heartbeat, my head cleared, and I forgot the cage, the blood, the bindings cutting into my wrists. I had spent my whole life hearing stories of how very rare they were.

Yet here she was. Alive and following us through the clouds sparkling with YuleMots.

Not YuleMad—not a monster—she was utterly majestic.

Then I was thrown sideways and crashed into the bars as the phoenix hauling the cage swept left in panic and dived through the clouds. My stomach lurched upward as the cage swung out of control, and my forehead collided with the base. Blood ran over one eye and dripped onto my lap.

“Bring it down!” someone shouted.

A chain of fire streaked through the storm-dark sky, and along with it another silver-tipped arrow. The orange-gold rogue phoenix twisted, but not fast enough. An arrow struck its wing, as another embedded in its neck. There was a horrific pause in the darkness. The night stilled as if it knew what was to come.

I gripped the bars with a silent scream and waited for the creature to rise again. To shake the arrows free. For its wings to catch the breeze and soar upward. For it to fight back!

Then a bright blue flame exploded across its feathers.

A blinding light made me shield my eyes. The creature’s beak opened, and one terrible, pained screech filled the sky and ruptured the snow-laden clouds—the Death Cry. And then it was spiralling downward into the darkness.

No. No.

“No!” The scream tore from my throat.

Please. No.

The white rogue phoenix answered with a furious call that shuddered through the surrounding snowflakes.

Another Fire Phoenix surged upward, carrying a Rider with a bow and arrow in his hands. They stalked the smaller red rogue with the bow pulled tight. With a flash of silver, the arrow shot through the night sky and found its mark, burying deep in the bird’s chest.

The small red phoenix convulsed and crumpled mid-flight. Another Death Cry echoed around us as it plummeted towards the cliffs below. Blazing blood-red fire consumed it far below us. My heart crumpled, then stopped beating. And that would be the last of the phoenixes. Death was death nowadays. Another piece of the old world vanished into the dark at the hands of men.

My chest ached in despair, and sharp, hot pain ripped through my shoulder. My hands gripped the bars as the sickly smell of burning feathers filled the air.

The Ash screamed again—a lower, pained pitch this time. And my knees gave out, and I sank to the floor. As if my whole body were weighted down with the same despair.

Another arrow flew, then another, then another.

No, please, not her. She’s innocent of all of this. She’s not YuleMad. She’s rogue… free.

The beautiful white rogue phoenix folded its wings and dived toward us.

“Turn around,” I screamed. “Go back!”

Draga swore on the Yule madness. One of the Riders answered him from above me. Each one of them was more frantic than the next. But before anyone could do anything, the rogue slammed into the firebird carrying my cage with enough force to send all of us pitching sideways through the storm. The iron cage spun, and I gripped the bars as nausea churned and rose in my throat. The Rider above me screamed that they were going to drop the cage.

My side smashed into the metal hard enough to make my vision burst white, and I retched, but all that came out was burning acid.

The Ash was above us, clawing savagely at the red bird carrying me. Its silver talons tore into a wing. I clung to the bars. “Stop!” My throat was raw from shouting into the icy wind. “Leave.”

The other Riders were circling back, and two of them had arrows drawn.

Red feathers fluttered in through the bars as we jolted right and then left.

And then I was spinning.