Page 58 of A Flame of the Phoenix (An Heir Comes to Rise #6)

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

Faythe

F aythe Ashfyre descended from the skies like a wrathful strike of the Gods. Her impact cracked the ground over the Firebird emblem in the courtyard of Rhyenelle’s castle.

He had been anticipating her. Lines of soldiers stood in her way to getting inside the castle—far more than would be expected to guard the fortress.

She didn’t try to count. It didn’t matter how many bodies Malin Ashfyre hid behind—she’d paint the streets red, black, and silver to get to him.

As the Phoenix Queen straightened, the world held its breath. So much heartbreak and fury hung in the silence that followed.

She roared one word. A name.

“MALIN!”

Her anguish trembled through even the most unfeeling of souls who bore witness to the brewing storm about to be unleashed. No solider moved, waiting steadfast for her to act first.

Gripped in her hand was the Soul Ruin, uncovered and vibrating with power that was already creeping through her, threading into her well of magick, wrapping around her soul. This time Faythe welcomed the dangerous alliance. It gave her the strength to tap into the minds of every person around her, ready to strike them down at the mere thought of their attack.

Faythe’s voice elevated, carried across the courtyard by the influence of the ruin. “You know who I am, and you can stand down or be cut down.”

Every beat of silence held judgment.

“Stand and protect your rightful king!” a general yelled.

These were not her allies. They were Malin’s. They’d chosen their side, and Faythe had discarded her mercy.

“Then let me show you how a king slayer earns their name with purpose, not cowardice.”

Faythe’s grip on the Soul Ruin sliced into her palm. Her blood trickled down the jagged slate, which roared with renewed life at the taste of her spilled life force. The power surging through her became too restless and furious, and Faythe charged forward to hunt for her enemy instead.

Bodies moved to stop her, but they were only animated shades of gold to her now, one touch away from becoming dust by her hand.

Faythe would gild the whole world if she had to.

Phoenixfyre blasted through a band of fae soldiers in black. Jakon rode Atherius above, making sure she would make it inside. For Marlowe, their vengeance and grief came together.

She didn’t know who she was under this surge of raw anguish and action. Every slash of magick that cut down a person barely released the agonizing web of suffering that spread within her.

Faythe used her magick like a lasso, decapitating one adversary while another gold whip spun around the feet of a foe on her right. He crashed to the ground before the rope of magick animated into a golden snake that lunged for his throat. Faythe’s magick was no one thing; it became a whip, a snake, a blade, an arrow. She knew nothing but the obstacle of never-ending bodies she had to eliminate to breach the walls of her castle and slay the false king within it.

The first to clash steel with one of her attackers spiked hot determination through her. Until she made out the face through the gold mists storming around her. She met the one set of deep blue eyes that were striking enough to reach her through the fire that raged within.

“Reylan,” she breathed.

His eyes softened in acknowledgment, but they had no time to pause in the thick of their enemies.

Reylan used fire to strike the foes behind her, and Faythe dove back into her focused calm to fight in harmony with him. They moved like magnets, covering each other, getting closer to their destination.

Faythe would have gotten there alone, and she wasn’t afraid of the immense power she harnessed, but she was so grateful to have the other half of her soul fighting by her side.

“That ruin is as much a danger as it is an asset to you,” he warned through their mental link as they fought unfalteringly.

“I can handle it.”

They both knew that was uncertain.

When Faythe next turned, by chance her eyes caught on the hilt of another sword tucked into Reylan’s belt. She gasped, twisting around him, pulling Lumarias free and slicing the sharp blade across the neck of her next target in the same breath.

The weight of her sword between her palms was like the first time—when Jakon presented it to her in their humble hut. She held the blade aloft, inspired, with an unexplainable charge of energy running through her chest as if Marlowe had forged the steel with a piece of her spirit.

“You’re always with me,” Faythe whispered.

Reylan fought around her, but the soldiers had started to ease off, frightened of the tempest of light spinning around her. Phoenixfyre blasted in front of her, and a wave of searing heat slicked her skin, flaring the ruby on her amulet. When the flames died out, leaving only charred ashes, Jakon and Atherius had cleared the rest of the path into the castle.

She exchanged one affirming look with Reylan, and they ran up the steps.

They fought any guard within the walls who wouldn’t back down at the warning Reylan tried to give each one. Some people they came across made him hesitate more than others, and Faythe realized some of them who’d chosen to be loyal to Malin were those Reylan had once fought with side by side. Lived in and protected this kingdom as allies.

Reylan slammed a fae male to the wall. He was frightening in his battle focus.

“Where is Malin?” he snarled.

“You’re just as much of a traitor to this kingdom as she is,” the fae spat back.

Reylan snapped his neck in a split second of rage. “He’ll be protecting himself in the throne room,” Reylan said coldly, not looking at her as he stormed past.

The doors were sealed shut, guarded by a dozen fae, which told Faythe he was right.

Before Reylan could advance, seeing the painful recognition on his face again, Faythe stepped in first to eliminate them. She coated her soul in ice, tapped into the power of the ruin tucked in her coat, and reached into the minds of them all, shattering them with a thought.

They all collapsed into a heap, and Faythe couldn’t bear to meet Reylan’s stare that branded her. She marched forward, stepping over the bodies and bracing a hand on each of the doors. With all her strength, they pushed open, announcing her arrival in a groaning whoosh of air. The moment she saw her wretched cousin high up the dais atop the Phoenix throne, she almost lost her complete composure and sanity.

The only thing that reeled her back from becoming a force that could collapse this castle with one wrong thought was Reylan’s influence within her. The ice to her fire, taming the inferno. She had done reprehensible things to get here, but she didn’t want to destroy her kingdom.

The winter air blew across them and Faythe discovered the right wall was almost completely crumbled. She stared at the wreckage caused by Izaiah’s escape in Phoenix form and her chest tightened with heart-obliterating grief, tormented that Marlowe hadn’t made it out of this room alive with them.

She turned her lethal edges to her cousin in a stare that sentenced his death.

He hid behind more guards arranged in an open triangle, which left a path to him. More of her people he was using as pawns. More of her people he was forcing her to kill.

Faythe’s resentment grew more dangerous with every calculated step she took toward him. She hung the silence deliberately, letting the growing suffocation of it declare her arrival as his reaper.

“You expect this kingdom to bow to you when you demonstrate how coldly you would kill your own people to get what you want?” he said bitterly.

Faythe laughed, the sound bordering villainous. “How bold of you, to condemn me with breath still warm from your own traitorous lies.”

There was something unhinged about Malin Ashfyre. The angle at which he sat, the crookedness of his crown, the bloodshot eyes lined with dark circles. He’d been consuming Phoenix Blood so much it had become a detrimental addiction, spinning his madness faster.

She said, “My people wouldn’t protect their king’s killer.”

Malin’s wild eyes twitched and darted around in a way that wasn’t natural. “You are the reason Agalhor Ashfyre is dead,” he seethed, pushing up from the throne with an unsteady balance that kept him leaning on the wide stone edge.

“Tell them how it was you who let the enemy inside our walls,” Faythe yelled.

She wanted to kill him so badly, but he’d turned this kingdom against her, and she would be damned if he died a hero in their eyes.

“Tell them,” Faythe said icily, “how Agalhor raised you like a son—the bastard of his brother—keeping your illegitimacy a secret. Tell them how he loved you, trusted you , and you betrayed him!”

Faythe slipped the tether of her control, casting out a hand that sent a flare of light pummeling into his chest, sitting him back on the throne.

She advanced through the lines of soldiers. At the first flinch to stop her, their movements were seized. Not by her. Reylan took a kernel of her ability to make sure no one could stop her while she kept focused on the only target she’d come for.

Someone entered through the back. A lord she recognized. Seeing her, he stumbled to a halt, ready to turn and race out of here.

“Wait,” Faythe said, straightening as she reached the top of the dais. “Gather the council. Now.”

The fae glanced at the back of the throne, then back at her.

“You have ten minutes,” Reylan announced.

He nodded, scrambling from the room, and Faythe gave her attention back to Malin. When she did, he finished tipping back a vial of Phoenix Blood. Then Faythe felt his attempt of infiltration in her mind. She saw white.

Her hand wrapped around his throat, pinning him to the back of the throne.

“You think you can contend with me?” she said daringly. “You are nothing but a poor imitation of what I am.”

Faythe shattered through his mind barrier easily despite the Phoenix Blood. She let him go physically, but mentally he was hers to command. Faythe made him remove his crown, and only then did fear begin to widen his eyes.

She commanded him to stand while Faythe lowered on one knee. Malin resisted her influence, trembling violently, with his face contorting furiously as he reached out with the crown between his hands. He placed her father’s crown on her head, then Faythe rose slowly, unblinking, as they stared off with powerful hatred.

“I told you that you would yield all to me.”

Malin had never looked so deranged. His desperation for power, to prove himself, had driven out such a corrupt pursuit she didn’t think he even recognized himself anymore.

“This is him?” The voice that echoed through their tense stand-off made Faythe turn around.

She didn’t know how Nyte was here, but he’d come to see the half-brother he never knew he had before Faythe killed him.

“Unfortunately so,” Faythe said. “I wish I could say there was a better version of your half-brother that once existed, but he has always been spineless.”

“I have no brother. No family,” Malin snapped.

“You have me,” Faythe said to provoke him further. “Dear cousin. ”

“Everything would have been better if you’d just stayed away,” he spat.

Faythe couldn’t deny she’d thought that often herself, but those were the weak and cowardly sentiments of the woman she killed long ago.

Nyte approached, and Reylan intercepted him.

“After all my help in your escape from Lakelaria, you still don’t trust me?”

“One act doesn’t make you an ally. You’re her son.”

“I’m as much her son as your mate is her daughter.”

There was a twisted truth in that. Much as Nyte was her direct blood, Faythe was more kin by unfortunate experience.

Faythe said, “If you came to stand in my way, I’ll kill you before I do him.”

Nyte’s attention fell on Malin behind her. Reylan glanced over his shoulder, and Faythe gave a nod for him to let Nyte approach.

She kept her laser focus on him. So far, Nyte had acted in their favor, but she couldn’t let go of her doubt that he could turn on them all if he saw a benefit for himself.

Nyte silently assessed Malin in every step, and Faythe backed away a few steps to let the estranged brothers meet before they were parted permanently.

“He was never worth this,” Nyte said, his voice reducing to a personal level. “Our father is no one worth proving yourself to. That’s why you sought power, status, isn’t it? He abandoned you, and what else were you to believe other than that he saw you as weak and unworthy of his attention?”

“My father is dead,” Malin growled, but Nyte’s words were making their mark.

“No. He left you for the pursuit of something greater. To create something greater. And he did… He created me.”

Malin’s hands lashed out, and Nyte could have maneuvered out the way, but he let Malin push him. Faythe had watched the Prince of Rhyenelle crumble more every second since she’d arrived.

“Who are you?” Malin seethed.

“Doesn’t matter,” Nyte said, barely audible, as if he were reflecting on something or someone else in this moment. “There is only one way for you to find peace. You know this too. You’ve fought for too long and never truly for yourself, brother. I hope you find solace in the next life.”

“NO—” Faythe’s magick slammed into Nyte at the first glint of steel that caught her eye.

Nyte thought to take his life swiftly. To grant Malin mercy. Faythe wasn’t ready for him to die so quickly.

Nyte was thrown back, but Faythe spun to Malin, finding him on his knees clutching the deep wound on his throat, which poured crimson over his pale complexion.

“You do not get to die yet,” Faythe growled, kneeling and pressing her hands over his wound. She pushed her magick into it, which wasn’t as effective as a healer’s ability, but she chanted in her mind for it to sustain him.

Malin wasn’t Nyte’s kill. He wasn’t even Faythe’s, much as she itched for it. This kill was Jakon’s to avenge his wife.

He should have joined them soon after with the courtyard clear, and Faythe grew concerned for him.

“The council is gathered, you-your High-Majesty,” the fae lord from before informed them in a nervous stumble.

Faythe glanced up at Reylan, who knew without speaking what she needed. She straightened as Reylan gripped the back of Malin’s collar, dragging him choking on his blood out the back entrance. Faythe spared one lethal warning glare for Nyte, who was still peeling himself off the ground. The impact she’d thrown at him had slammed his body to the stone hard enough to form a deep dent of crumbling stone.

She would have to deal with him later.

In the council room, the deep mahogany table was full of familiar judgmental faces. As Reylan dragged in Malin, Faythe pulled out the head seat, but she didn’t take it. Instead, Reylan hauled Malin up onto it.

Faythe slipped the crown off her head, placing it in front of him on the table, while she took in the horrified faces of every council member who’d turned their backs on her.

“Since the beginning, most of you have resisted my being here. You’ve questioned me, tested me, despite your king’s faith in me. Now you’ve been loyal to his killer, and I can’t have traitors on my council when I take this kingdom back.”

She stalked down the length of the table, and the only sound to echo though the hall was her steps and the wet chokes of Malin.

“Twice a king slayer,” one voice uttered. She found the old fae staring at her as if she were death incarnate. She quite liked that look.

Faythe ignored him, slipping her attention to Malin. “I’m hoping you can still speak to tell them all you conspired. How you let the Spirits of death and souls walk right into this kingdom, leading the slaughter of innocents and the death of your king.”

When he didn’t answer, Faythe took matters into her own hands. Reaching into his mind, she tried to force the confessions out of his mouth, but Nyte had cut too deep. All that left him with were barely coherent gurgles.

“As if we would believe his words when you puppet his mind,” another of the council said, more boldly than the last.

“Then believe mine.”

All heads snapped to unexpected intrusion.

Zaiana strolled in as though she were late to a social gathering. She looked over the table of seated lords with insulting disinterest, then her purple irises took in Malin on the brink of death as if he were a mere insect.

Zaiana followed with, “I’m sure you all remember me. I like to think I made quite the impression when I infiltrated this place.”

“Before you were captured,” a lord countered bitterly.

Zaiana gave him a wicked side smile, not bothering to argue her surrender was intentional.

Faythe was distracted by the person who entered through the same door Zaiana did. Everything froze in time as she beheld Kyleer. Her anger. Her grief. Faythe was numbed by shock followed by a crushing weight of relief.

He’d survived.

“Ky…” His name slipped from her in disbelief.

Kyleer’s eyes flicked to her then, but he gave her no warm reception.

“He doesn’t remember us,” Reylan informed her.

Faythe’s heart withered.

Her friend had towering wings that were magnificent on him. Feathered wings , she noticed. All Faythe wanted to do was embrace him, overwhelmed with joy that she hadn’t lost another dear friend. It soothed some of the aching rage in her bones, helping her regain the control she was silently slipping to the ruin. Her chaos calmed.

Zaiana explained her role in tearing down the wall by the order of Malin Ashfyre, and the council looked between each other, not knowing what to believe. But coming from the mouth of the enemy, there would be no viable reason for Zaiana to lie.

One chair groaned against the marble floor as the lord stood. Faythe recognized him with a touch more fondness than anyone else. He’d been one to stand up for her before.

“There are many of us who have been waiting for your return, Faythe Ashfyre. You are the Phoenix Queen we chose, whom our late King Agalhor believed in, and we have not faltered in that loyalty. Forgive us if it has seemed that way.”

Pride swelled in her chest. She was home. As war-stricken and terrorized as her lands had become, but this was the first torch of hope for the end to bring new peace under her reign.

Another stood, with outrage contorting his face. He blazed at her, casting a hand toward Zaiana.

“She stands here with the enemy who killed our king! She is a masterful manipulator, and we cannot let her take over this court. Someone fetch a damned healer for our king.”

No one moved. Malin was counting down his breaths. Where is Jakon? He was owed this closure, and if Malin died so pitifully, she would aim her retribution at Nyte instead.

“Is there anyone else who agrees with him?” Reylan addressed the table with a hint of dark warning.

Another stood. “I never would have thought our most legendary protector would betray his king by falling for his pretty daughter.”

Reylan didn’t react. Neither did she.

In the tense silence, another four had risen to side against her.

“Take them to the cells under the castle,” Faythe ordered the guards littered around the room.

For a few heartbeats, Faythe thought she would have to swallow her ego if they wouldn’t answer to her, but then they did. The lords who were removed from the hall called out their disagreement and profanities. All Faythe heard was the fading echoes of corruption leaving her hall.

Faythe opened her mouth to address the rest of her loyal council, but a piercing cry of beast not man, followed by a sharp pain within, made her gasp, whirling toward the long windows.

She couldn’t see Atherius, but the Firebird was in immense distress and pain. What alarmed her even more…was that Jakon was with her.

Faythe spun on her heel, sprinting without a second thought.

Bursting back out into the courtyard, Faythe was awash with horror. So much darkness battled flame. Atherius wailed and tried to shake off the shadow bodies that climbed over her in frightening masses.

“JAK!” Faythe yelled.

She couldn’t see him. He’d been riding Atherius, and now he wasn’t.

“Faythe!”

Relief threatened her balance as she spun to his answering voice drawing closer. He was out of breath, as panicked as she felt.

“They swarmed as soon as she landed. I tried to get her to fly again, but she wouldn’t go. She made sure I got away from them. Somehow, she’s attracting them to herself.”

“Like moths to a flame,” Reylan muttered, assessing the situation with his battle consideration.

Atherius cried out, and her pain slashed through Faythe again and again. She couldn’t lose her.

A battle yell tore from Faythe as she didn’t think, just acted on instinct, connecting to the ruin more deeply than before to summon light as blinding as the sun itself. Her palms pushed out, sending a flare of potent magick around the Firebird to engulf the shadow creatures that continued to race for her.

She managed to kill some, but it was hardly a dent in the shadows that seemed to keep manifesting. None of them charged for Faythe despite her attack. Somehow, Atherius made her fire the most desirable thing for them, but Atherius’s flames weren’t harming them. Screams echoed in the distance, alerting her that the army of shadows had infiltrated the whole city.

“What do we do?” Faythe asked, at a complete loss, turning to Reylan as her general for this.

“The shadows can only be killed if they don’t see the attack coming.” Reylan spoke to everyone as more Rhyenelle warriors began to gather to hear the instruction. “You need to work in teams. Pairs at the least. One has to attract, while the other attacks.”

Attract and attack. Bait and kill.

Their soldiers nodded, not missing a beat to spread the instruction and begin protecting the city.

Faythe threw out her magick again and again, trying with all her might to help Atherius, but there were too many.

“Teams,” Reylan said, pulling her arm back from releasing her next desperate flare. “You and me, Phoenix.”

She nodded but didn’t tell him how hot she felt. How sick and dizzy she’d become inside. It wasn’t the nerves or fear—it was the ruin weakening her mind and body, and the moment Faythe couldn’t sustain herself, it would take over completely to push her past her mortal limits.

Faythe had no choice but to be the bait since it seemed the shadow creatures still couldn’t see Reylan or thought he was one of them. She didn’t enjoy having to grab their attention and run around like a fool, throwing pointless attacks with her magick. Reylan was efficient, and they couldn’t dispose of more shadow creatures even if they tried.

They couldn’t grab the attention of those that covered Atherius’s body, climbing all over her. Faythe’s soul cried watching the brilliant embers of the Firebird become slowly smothered by complete darkness. She blinked back her tears, running around until she was staring into one of her brilliant amber eyes.

It was then, in the connection of their eyes, that Faythe understood.

This wasn’t a fight; it was a sacrifice.

Denial torched every fiber of her being. Reylan figured out the Firebird’s intention too as his strong arm hooked around her middle, pulling her back, just as she lunged forward.

Because Atherius spoke her goodbye in that pained stare she held on Faythe. Her goodbye…and her gratitude. To have found a bond again after so many centuries alone. To have gotten the chance to fly free and protect the kingdom of Rhyenelle once more before the end.

This end.

Faythe voice cracked and splintered. She fought against Reylan, who pulled her away as Atherius pushed herself up. Shadow bodies clung and climbed over her viciously, feeding on her magick and blood and feathers.

She didn’t shake a single one off, deliberately enticing as many as she could to her. Then she splayed her wings, launching herself into the darkening sky.

Faythe wasn’t ready to say goodbye. They hadn’t had enough time together. The bond that ran through them strained, and Faythe’s hand reached up—reached as though their bond were a physical string she could grip as it tugged painfully toward breaking.

She choked on her next sob when their bond snapped .

The world silenced at the ringing that filled her ears, only allowing Atherius’s final cry to filter through.

Her knees gave out, but Reylan didn’t let her fall. He lowered with her until they were kneeling, watching the brave and brilliant bird soar higher and higher, almost lost to darkness completely.

Then she erupted.

Atherius became the brightest, most breathtaking star to ever grace the sky, exploding into embers that rained down. Even if some of the shadow creatures anticipated it, she burned for long enough that they would be caught in her dying flames the moment they tried to reform.

The end of Atherius was as legendary as her beginning.

Faythe’s head bowed, and Reylan held her tight. But not even he could stop the dark grip that had begun to take hold of her.

Too much loss. Too much bloodshed. Too much sacrifice.

The ruin answered to the eruption of her chaos, and the ruin she became.