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“Grab the girl. Kill the rebel!” another bellowed.
Sweeping around, I faced the sky as the air and wind battered into me, piercing my cheeks. Once, long ago, I had wanted a log cabin in the woods and a roaring fire, and to wake up in his arms. But Yule had shown me a different light. There was another path that I needed to take. In taking it, I could save him and give him back his new life as a Celt with his Warhorse that he so clearly loved.
I had a different destiny, and deep down he had always known it. Thorn knew it.
I filled my lungs with mountain air and roared into the snow-clogged, Yule-dusted heavens, “I am HERE.”
And my phoenix answered.
The Twelfth Night of Yule
— The Turning
On the twelfth night, the world remakes itself before dawn.
This is the night of full circle. The Rebirth of the year.
What rises now is new but carries the soul-deep memory of what it survived.
What begins now will affect what follows.
Earthworld does not mourn what it is not. Skyworld accepts what it has always been.
The turning is complete.
And unveiled truths have learned to fly.
For on the twelfth night of Yule, your world does not return to what it was—but you get to choose what comes next.
The Ashen Grimoire
42
Across the room, Aster held the FootPath open, but he took a step away, and the entrance quivered. He was at war with himself. If he moved, we would both be trapped, and the Barren Riders would have the amulet.
Indecision flashed across his brow.
So I made the choice for him.
“Wren! You don’t…” he shouted as I stood at the edge of the room, where nothing lay between me and the snow-blanketed rocks the prison was built upon.
There was no going back. I could stop all those guards from capturing Aster, giving him time to flee. Give him back his home in the woods that he so clearly loved.
The room plunged into shadow as black feathers swept overhead. The Smoke Phoenix flew across the opening and thundered onto the platform at the far end. Torran dropped from the pouch underneath, swinging on the steering bar and landing like a cat on all fours, ready to pounce. He straightened with the same grace.
The Northland guards halted on seeing their deadly prince, but a Barren Rider was already three paces from Aster, his eyes on the amulet dangling between his fingers.
Torran head snapped in my direction the moment his spine straightened and reached out his hand for me to stop. But he held no power over me now. For the first time, he looked afraid. And he had every reason to be. Behind him, the Smoke Phoenix stood with its wings half unfurled, silver eyes fixed not on me, but on the sky behind me.
There was a whoosh of freezing wind, and the stone shuddered again. A loud thud echoed around the cavernous space as the rogue Ash Phoenix landed behind me and shrieked. The sound vibrated through my spine, and I locked my joints in place. My shoulder burned, telling me danger was near—a sign that she was close, and she sensed my fear. It was a warning I had ignored for ten years. I had been so afraid so many times over the last decade, but never of her.
Each guard froze, then started to shuffle backward, their eyes wide with terror. And they had every reason to be terrified. But not of her… of me. For I was far more vengeful than they could even imagine. These men and so many before them, including my uncle, had tried to mould me into the woman they wanted… It was only Aster who had seen who I truly was. And loved me for it. And I would give everything for his freedom. For him to have a family and children… a home. And for Thorn to have her Rider.
So I would take the bond. It was the only way that I could still make a difference.
Behind me, steam swept out from the Ash Phoenix’s nares and snaked its way around the vast space. The Ash and Smoke Phoenixes held the most powerful Skyworld magic of them all.
Torran had gathered smoke in his palm, but it wouldn’t touch me, not with the Ash bond in my blood. Phoenixes didn’t harm each other. A Rider’s power couldn’t end a fellow Rider’s life. Only an arrow could.
