Page 71 of A Flame of the Phoenix (An Heir Comes to Rise #6)

CHAPTER SEVENTY

Zaiana

Z aiana hadn’t known Faythe’s human friend, Marlowe, but in her wake, the human Oracle may have provided more for their gain in this war they were yet to discover. Starting with the dagger to revert Nerida’s power back to her. They just had to find the pesky little dark fae, her half-sister Edith, before she got killed by her own stupidity and Nerida’s magick was lost for good.

The family term didn’t settle with an inkling of sentiment. Discovering she was a blood relative might have spurred her violence even more. What she’d done was a coward’s way to power.

Edith wanted Zaiana’s lightning, and she would make sure the dark fae felt the full force of her storm before they used the dagger.

She crouched with Faythe Ashfyre near the entrance Zaiana used at the edge of the Mortus Mountains. It wasn’t used as often, but she didn’t want to take any chances of being seen yet. If Edith wasn’t here, Zaiana still planned to kill all five masters before she left. She liked to think some part them had always known Zaiana would return as their demise and that they slept with one eye open.

“No one has come in or out in ten minutes,” Faythe hissed. Her small, antsy movements were beginning to grate on Zaiana’s nerves.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Zaiana grumbled.

Faythe didn’t defend that fact. The human-turned-fae was a like a firecracker and had always been able to unleash that fiery side of herself—had to, or she most certainly would not still be alive. Though it made her insufferable in a task of patience and quiet.

“I have the dagger.”

“Which you could just give to me and stay here. You’re a liability.”

“You just can’t stand the thought of help.”

Zaiana cut her with a look. It was jarring to meet those gold eyes so close and not be hunting or fighting the heir. The impulse was still there—Faythe didn’t make it easy to subdue the itch for her throat.

“Let’s go,” Zaiana grunted, not waiting or accounting for Faythe as she slipped stealthily down the dark mountain edges.

Within the cavernous labyrinth, Zaiana breathed steady to calm her irritating suffocation at being back here.

To her credit, Faythe kept pace and remained as vigilant as her now they were within tight enemy confines. These jagged stone walls had raised her and sharpened her. This place had been her home for many centuries, but she could watch it crumble to the ground and feel nothing but joy warming her cold, black heart.

“The smell isn’t pleasant,” Faythe muttered under her breath.

Zaiana had learned to naturally shallow her breaths under here, avoiding the pungent mix of blood and despair as much as possible. The passages were always the worst.

They made it to the open cave where training would usually take place. Zaiana slipped in just to catch a glimpse over the edge, down into the pit. Young dark fae lined uniformly across the whole floor. She’d never seen them gathered like this. These darklings weren’t nearly old enough to be considered for army positions, but she spied four of the masters walking up and down the lines, examining them as if they were a legion.

Nephra wasn’t one of them. She stood, poised and arrogant, observing from one of the other balconies.

“What are they doing?”

Faythe speaking to her mind shocked her enough to make her spin, gripping her by the throat and curving them out of the balcony. Her gold eyes flew wide with anger, and Zaiana released her immediately.

“Don’t do that!” Zaiana hissed under her breath.

“Do what!” Faythe whisper-shouted back.

“Infiltrate my mind!”

“Would you rather I announce our arrival to those very welcoming dark fae down there?”

Though it was a slight overreaction on her part, Zaiana hated her own voice in her head, never mind the sudden intrusion of another’s.

“Just stay out of my head,” Zaiana grumbled, leading them away from the pit.

She had a few other places to spy for Edith if she scuttled off to these mountains. They checked the dorms and other higher up sleeping quarters. Nikalias had relayed that Edith claimed to have led in Mordecai’s armies, and that was a high status to reach for her age description. Zaiana wasn’t truly hopeful to find her here. This was where the weak became strong, or they died. She didn’t tell that to Faythe when Zaiana had an ulterior motive to come here anyway. The masters would die for killing Acelin, Kellias, Drya, and Selain.

She’d spent all their years together reminding them they were not friends. Not family. They were a duty to each other, and nothing more. Even then, she knew in a buried piece of herself that wasn’t true. In their last moments, she hoped they’d known too.

All she had to offer their loyal souls was vengeance, and it would be hers.

“She’s not here,” Zaiana said, knowing it was pointless to venture anymore even though they’d only checked a small fraction of the labyrinth carved under these barren mountains.

“There has to be more we can check. She could be in a meeting, or terrorizing children, or maybe your dear father is here and they’re plotting your demise as we speak.”

“Don’t call him that,” she warned.

“Denying your blood doesn’t make you any less a Vesaria.”

Everything in Zaiana recoiled at the name. It didn’t belong to her. She was Zaiana Silverfair. Even though she despised that name too. When the war was over, she would shed both. What use was a family name to her anyway?

“You really are insufferable company,” Zaiana said, brushing past her and leading them down a narrow spiral staircase.

With Faythe’s distracting words, her sharp focus had split, and because of that she didn’t detect the body ascending the stairs until she had him pinned to the wall, with her dagger drawing a line of black blood on his throat.

“Zai-Zaiana,” he stuttered, recognizing her immediately.

She didn’t have the time nor the patience to wager on his ability to stay silent. Her blade cut deep and swift before she pushed the body to avoid getting blood on her.

“Was that really necessary?” Faythe said, following hot on her heel again.

“It wouldn’t have been if you stopped distracting me and stayed focused.”

“I’m following your every movement and trusting you. It’s you who needs to become accustomed to teamwork,” Faythe complained.

“I’m not counting on this teamwork happening again. Besides, you give yourself too much credit. You’re deadweight to account for more than anything.”

When Zaiana picked up more voices over Faythe’s grumbling, she pushed a hand to Faythe’s chest, pressing them into the wall.

There was a trail of water under their feet. These mountains were always damp, with rainwater seeping through the cracks. Zaiana crouched, conjuring her lightning and dipping the tips of her metal finger guards into the stream. The electricity conducted through the water, gripping those approaching by the soles of their boots before exploding in currents thorough their bodies, sharp enough to drop them unconscious.

“Can I try that next time?” Faythe asked, peeking her head around to see the three fallen dark fae.

The reminder Faythe had stolen her ability roused her.

“Can you give my power back?”

“I didn’t take any of what’s yours. It’s more like the fabric of the ability I touch imprints itself in me. If I don’t learn to use it, those threads have no substance and fade away. I’ve learned I don’t keep them permanently unless I keep using them to some capacity.”

It was fascinating, she supposed.

“So you’ve kept using my lightning?”

“It’s one of my favorites. I might prefer fire though. I don’t have Waterwielding from Nerida anymore—it’s not typically at the forefront of my mind to use for attack or defense.”

“I’m not surprised. Though water is a deceptively lethal element, the flow and practice of it requires patience and calmness. Fire…that makes sense for you.”

“How do you know about the practice of Waterwielding?”

“It’s useful to learn about skills outside your own. It’s how we innovate, by borrowing from other practices and experimenting with techniques that can be useful in our own.”

Faythe hummed. “You’re more intelligent than I thought.”

Zaiana’s fist flexed. “I seem dim to you?”

“No. You’re terrifying. And hearing of the upbringing in this place…I suppose I was narrow-minded to believe you’d be solely focused on everything physical rather than books.”

“I might not have survived this place if it weren’t for books.”

Zaiana wanted to snatch those words back as though they hung in the air, mocking her for the pitiful confession.

“For what it’s worth, I admire you. Even when you were trying to kill me.”

Zaiana’s mouth quirked up of its own accord. “Who says I’ve stopped trying?”

The echoes of vicious snarling made the hairs on her nape stand on end. She knew what was down here, but Zaiana hadn’t visited this section deep under the mountain since the first day she’d stumbled upon it barely past her first century.

“This is going to be hard for you to see,” Zaiana warned.

When they emerged, they kept close to the wall, only peeking their heads around, as this part was patrolled by higher-up dark fae. The bodies that filled the cages stacked high had grown exponentially since she’d last seen it. So many Transitioned dark fae too savage to roam free. Even one of them loose could tear through a village of humans in a single night.

“Oh Gods,” Faythe breathed.

It was a barbaric and gruesome sight. These creatures were once ordinary fae, just like Faythe. Now they resembled beast more than person. Torn, decaying flesh; crooked wings; snapping, black-spotted teeth. The scent of death was so potent Zaiana stuffed her nose into her elbow, as did Faythe.

“If they unleashed these creatures on High Farrow, it would be carnage before any army was needed to break your defenses.”

Zaiana was thinking aloud, having forgotten this mass weapon lurking in the depths of these mountains. This had to be why they were never ordered killed. They’d been kept down here all this time, fed enough human blood to keep them alive but absolutely ravished, ready to unleash complete savagery on the enemy.

“We have to eliminate this threat,” Faythe said.

“Agreed, but short of caving in the entire mountain, it’s going to be difficult to kill so many efficiently. This isn’t the only room of cages.”

Their eyes met, and Zaiana knew what the heir was about to say.

“Do you think you can cave in the mountain?”

Zaiana considered. Though she’d previously thought the idea pleasurable, the true possibility of watching this place collapse made her doubtful for a moment.

“If I had the ruin to amplify my magick, maybe,” she answered.

Zaiana’s mind began to flood with memories against her will. They weren’t all terrible, living here. There were moments she kept locked and treasured with her friends, Acelin, Kellias, Drya, Selain, Tynan, Amaya… Finnian .

This mountain was where she’d met him. The first time she’d fallen in love—her most forbidden secret. This mountain was where she’d killed him.

At that dark memory that slashed through anything warm, Zaiana’s resolve hardened. She said, “If we work together, both using lightning, it might be enough to bring this place down.”

Faythe’s expression firmed to determination with her nod. It was a monumental task—these mountains were huge and ancient. Even together, Zaiana wasn’t certain they could achieve the task.

Zaiana began leading them toward the best point of the mountain she believed would be the greatest impact point. The pit.

The lines of darklings were still there, as were all five masters. Zaiana whistled low in a three-beat sequence that echoed gently through the hall. Faythe passed her a questioning look, but it was answered by the stealthy appearance of Tynan and Amaya.

“You’ve been complaining about my company all this time when you brought your own?” Faythe said sourly.

“Unlike you, Tynan and Amaya know the layout of this place and are far more useful to me.” She turned to them. “We’re going to bring this place down, but we need to evacuate the darklings first. As many as we can.”

Tynan nodded. “We’ll start with the dorms and communal spaces.”

Amaya’s expression had turned ghostly. “Collapse the whole mountain? You can do that?”

“We’re going to find out.”

“What about the masters?” Tynan asked in concern.

“They’re mine.”

He looked about to protest, but he thought better than to underestimate her. “Where will the darklings go?”

“High Farrow,” Faythe said. “They’re innocents. We’ll keep them safe.”

That surprised Zaiana, and it worried her. She didn’t doubt Faythe’s word; the heir was a walking bleeding heart. But she did doubt the acceptance of the others, like Nikalias—and he was the king with the overruling authority to order them all dead.

For now, they didn’t have an alternative choice.

Zaiana nodded for Tynan to direct the darklings there for now.

They left swiftly, leaving Zaiana to calculate how she was going to get the ones below out of the storm they were about to unleash. The hole at the top of the pit would have to be their escape, and she hoped most, if not all, could actually fly. Sometimes the young were late in gaining the strength in their wings to carry them, or their wings never grew tall and wide enough to support them.

“What are you thinking?” Faythe asked, too close to her for comfort.

Zaiana considered Faythe, deeming she might actually be a great asset after all. “How many minds can you reach at once?” she asked.

“With the ruin, probably all of them. We should have brought one. Without it, maybe a dozen at a time.”

“They might not trust an unseen voice in their head, but I’m hoping they will once they see me. Tell the darklings to make their escape above when the fighting starts.”

Without another word, Zaiana boldly stepped out onto the balcony, first attracting the attention of Nephra, who blazed at the sight of her from a few balconies to her side. Zaiana smiled arrogantly, released her wings, and swooped down to the ground below.

Gasps and murmurs broke out among the darklings, but she focused solely on the four masters on this level, who targeted her with hateful stares.

“Zaiana Silverfair,” one drawled. “We’re well aware of all your actions outside. Your failure in capturing the Heir of Marvellas left you at the mercy of the enemy you have sold yourself to,” Master Eon said.

“You’ve hidden yourselves away under this mountain for millennia, too afraid to face the outside world. Who is really a slave and prisoner?”

“Why have you come back?” Master Corrik inquired.

“To kill you all,” she answered plainly.

They laughed at her. Mocked her. She’d long since hardened her mind to the grating jeers of their bitter voices.

“You heard about your little companions then? Truthfully, I never understood what you saw in those you chose to defend you. Your judgment has always been weak,” said Master Eon.

“Yet you could never kill me,” Zaiana taunted back, realizing now why, in all the times she’d thought her rebellion would earn her death, they’d spared her. “You know my true name. You know my father. You know I am Zaiana Vesaria, heir to Valgard.”

Every admittance of her heritage burned in her throat, but the masters were bound by the will of Mordecai, and that was what had kept her alive.

Their aged faces contorted in anger and hatred.

“You cannot kill us. He will not allow it,” Master Neisah hissed.

“I’m willing to take my chances,” Zaiana said. Then she struck.

Lightning shot from her fingers, slamming into Corrik. In the same breath she threw another bolt with her other hand toward Neisah. At the break of chaos, to her relief, the darklings began to scatter, some flying to escape through the opening above, some running through the halls. Zaiana kept focus on the masters as best she could, but when adult dark fae flooded into the pit, beginning to grab the scrambling darklings, Zaiana lost her momentum as they began killing the young.

“Kill them all,” Nephra ordered, too calm and cold, before she swooped down to the ground.

An amber glow illuminated the dark walls, dropping down. Faythe Ashfyre joined her side, as furious as she over the cowardly bloodshed of those incapable of protecting themselves.

“The blood and brutality of this place ends here,” Faythe seethed.

Lightning scattered through Zaiana’s body. It had been building like a bated breath since she began combing through these mountains. It vibrated through her like a second force of life. Then…Zaiana never thought she’d be reaching for the hand of Faythe Ashfyre. Lightning sparked between their fingertips, and when their palms clasped, the lightning erupted through both of them. It built to a catastrophic force, and they braced, conjuring as much as they could as two vessels of a deadly storm. It spilled from them in cracks that struck the walls and shook the ground beneath them. Brutal gales of wind brewed around them. When they were at their limit, they kneeled simultaneously, slamming of their free palms to the ground.

The mountain gave a violent roar at the impact as powerful as a God’s strike from the heavens. The stone split into a web of small cracks while deadly rocks rained down. Zaiana kept pushing as much magick as she could, and Faythe did not falter either.

Through the wind and rock that crashed and stormed around them, Zaiana caught the five cowardly rodents breaking into a passage, trying to escape. Zaiana’s blood boiled.

“Hold it as long as you can,” Zaiana yelled to Faythe over the chaos. She severed their connection, racing after the masters. They would not get away.

This passage only led to one place, and Zaiana caught up to the masters just as they were preparing to fly through the opening above their council room. The ground trembled dangerously. If she wasn’t quick, she risked being buried alive with them.

“You can’t outrun the blade you sharpened,” Zaiana said coldly.

Nephra stood closer than the rest, absolutely seething with jealousy and rage. She’d always hated Zaiana most, and she’d always thought it was Mordecai’s favor that made her so bitter. Now it made sense.

“You were in love with him,” Zaiana said to her.

“He was in love with me too,” Nephra bit out. Her dark eyes turned manic with her laughter. “I gave him a daughter just as capable as you.”

That came as a shock. If Nephra had been pregnant, she’d hidden it very well. Then again, Zaiana could recall several times months had gone by without her seeing Master Nephra. She’d always noticed since those months went by with the fewest punishments.

Then it slipped into place, so clear she didn’t think she could be wrong.

“Edith,” she muttered.

Nephra smiled cruelly. Thought it was the flick of her eyes over Zaiana’s shoulder that alerted her to the blade she twisted to avoid. Zaiana gripped the wrist by her head, bending and throwing the assailant over her shoulder. Her knee dug into their chest, pushing the blade still gripped in their hand over their neck.

Zaiana stared into dark brown eyes, with inky black hair spilling across the stone, similar to her own.

“Hello, sister ,” Edith hissed.

Stunned, Zaiana was unstable enough that Edith managed to jab her heel into Zaiana’s waist, flipping them. Zaiana’s hands lashed around Edith’s, which was clamped around the blade aimed for her heart.

“I am just as strong as you,” Edith said, her voice straining as Zaiana poured all her strength against hers. “I’m just as capable as you.” Edith leaned more of her body weight into the blade, and it inched closer to her chest. “And I will be as powerful as you.”

Zaiana’s arms trembled, but her rage in the face of the one who’d harmed Nerida gave her renewed resistance.

“You’re not even close to me,” Zaiana said.

Twisting their arms, Edith cried out as Zaiana dislocated her shoulder and threw her off. Before Edith could scramble back up, Zaiana kicked her with such force it sent her careening into the wall.

Faythe had the jeweled dagger. Zaiana had to drag Edith back to the pit. Her step toward the dark fae was intercepted by Nephra.

“You’re a spawn of the Nether,” she spat.

“Better than being a spawn of you.”

Her hand rose to conjure her lightning, but a hand wrapped around it.

Zaiana’s lethal glare snapped to them, but her fight faltered at who she saw.

“Maverick,” she whispered.

He was always stopping her. Always intercepting her triumphs.

“This mountain will bury us all in minutes,” he said calmly. Letting her go, he walked past her, taking in the five masters and Edith on the ground.

Zaiana’s emotions clashed from anger to grief. Why grief? As though, despite all he’d done, Zaiana still believed Maverick wasn’t her enemy.

“You’ve always been our favored,” Corrik said to him. All of the masters seemed to relax, as if their prized and ruthless savior had come.

Maverick turned back to her. She was completely outnumbered. He was the one person she’d fought enough times to know he could contend with her magick.

He said, “Which of them hurt you?”

Zaiana’s thrumming heart skipped a beat.

Because he’d asked her that before. In the baths, when he’d first seen the map of scars on her back.

Zaiana’s lips parted, and she whispered, “All of them.”

Blue flame grew in a blink, and Maverick’s twist was so fast no one could have avoided the fire that sliced like a whip in his spin, cutting through the bodies of four of the masters. They fell, torsos splitting from their lower bodies, their last wide-eyed looks of terror glazed on their wicked faces.

When Maverick straightened and turned back, he bore no emotion at all, but Zaiana was stunned, rooted to the spot. He approached her, saying close to her ear, “Snap out of it, Delegate. Last one is yours. Best make it quick. The biggest tragedy would be to see you buried in this wretched place.”

The mountain roared, collapsing more rapidly by the minute. The ground shook, and Zaiana had to catch herself on the wall at the same time Maverick hooked her waist. Her eyes snapped up at the strangled sounds, finding Nephra dangling from the opening, one wing limp as if a rock had dislocated it. Edith was safely out, holding onto her mother’s arm, but she didn’t pull her up.

“Help me!” Nephra cried.

Zaiana snarled. She was not getting away. Her lighting charged, and her fingers pointed up.

“Sorry, Mother,” Edith said, not in the least bit sentimental, before she let go of her mother’s hand, darting out of the way as lightning shot for the opening.

It blasted into the stone, which crumbled and fell, as did Nephra.

Zaiana stumbled over the debris, dodging falling rocks. She really had to leave.

Nephra lay under heaps of rocks, her face bloodied, wheezing for her last breaths.

She crouched, not feeling as triumphant as she thought she would. There was no satisfaction in watching her die. Maybe there never would have been.

“Mordecai never loved you. Edith never loved you. You’re dying, and there’s no one coming. No one to mourn you after your last breath. No legacy left to remember you by, because I will kill Edith if it’s the last thing I do.”

Nephra tried to speak, but her mouth only floundered. Her chest was crushed, leaving her in an immobile state to suffer a prolonged, painful death. So when Nephra’s eyes pleaded for a blade to end it quickly, Zaiana stood. She felt absolutely nothing.

Zaiana was yanked from her state of numbness by a sharp tug. Maverick pulled her out the way of a large, serrated piece of rock, which plummeted, crushing Nephra and nearly Zaiana too.

“We need to get out of here— now, ” Maverick yelled.

Instead of arguing, her hand tightened in his as they raced through the passage that caved in rapidly behind their every step. Adrenaline pumped in her chest and sharpened her senses. The gap above the pit had widened, crumbling in lethal boulders that would make it a perilous flight, but they had no other option.

As they unglamoured their wings, she released his hand and shot skyward, pivoting around the deadly rain of rocks. One slammed into Maverick, and Zaiana’s heart lurched. She dropped, lashing out a hand, which caught him before he could fall too far. Luckily, the rock had hit his shoulder, not his wings, and he managed to gain his flight balance again to shoot himself out of the chaos beside her.

A stone slashed through the membrane of Zaiana’s right wing, sending her tumbling back down a few beats before she could catch herself. Pain lashed over her right shoulder, spreading down her arm, but she pushed harder . Being buried in this mountain was a death that would haunt her soul in every lifetime.

When the icy air wrapped around her, Zaiana could breathe in relief, but she needed to find safe landing before her flight faltered with the pain growing along one side of her body. An injury to dark fae wings affected far more than just that limb.

The mountain continued to cave in, booming so loud it was all that rattled through her. She couldn’t see Faythe and could only hope the heir had the sense and agility to have made it out long before now.

She watched the black rock break, the air choked with plumes of smoke and dust. The only home she’d ever known collapsed rock by rock, and she decided to bury Zaiana Silverfair in this dark tomb for eternity.

Zaiana no longer felt attached to the dark fae who’d lived there for three hundred years. She hadn’t for some time. There was peace in the destruction she watched, burying the life that was never her choice nor freedom. She didn’t know who she was now, nor who she wanted to be, but she turned her sight to the stars, taking her first breath of freedom, with a new will to draw many more.

She landed on a cliffside far enough away from the thundering mountains. Maverick followed her, and they caught their breath in silence for a long moment, letting the action settle.

“You need to see a healer,” Maverick said at last.

She turned to find him leaning against a round rock, clutching the bicep on the side of his injured shoulder. “So do you,” she said.

“I take it Nerida is with you––”

“Why did you do that?” Zaiana interrupted. “Why kill the masters?”

Maverick let a few beats of silence charge their stare. “You know why.”

“No. I don’t. I can’t figure out what game you’re playing. Whose side you’re on.”

“I already told you, none of this is about sides.”

“That’s bullshit.”

He winced in pain, adjusting his position. Zaiana had drifted closer. Pain throbbed over her entire right side because of the wound to her wing, but she’d be able to fly back to High Farrow. She was glad Faythe wasn’t here, for she didn’t doubt the heir would attempt to kill Maverick if she saw him, and Zaiana wasn’t confident he would escape her this time.

Maverick stood, which brought them near chest-to-chest. Zaiana angled her head back to hold his stare. She wished she could look away, but those onyx eyes were a trap that held her still.

When he leaned down to kiss her, it only lasted a second before she stepped back.

“Maverick––”

“I know.” He cut her off. “Everything is about to end in one way or another. I just had to…” He trailed off.

“You just had to take what you wanted one last time,” she said, her words intended as humor, but something inside her tugged with an ache. She couldn’t stop herself from adding, “I’m going to fight with them to take down the Spirits and Mordecai once and for all. I’m counting on us winning. You can’t be here when that happens. Leave, Maverick. I don’t know what you’ve been waiting for, but if you want to live, you have to leave.”

He smiled, but it was vacant. She’d never noticed before, but when Maverick wasn’t exuding arrogance and hatred and bitterness…he looked hollow .

Zaiana’s mind started spinning of its own accord, wondering if there was even a slight chance Maverick could be forgiven. But that was a fantasy. In their shared look, they both acknowledged that. He turned to walk away but paused.

“This isn’t me trying to atone for what I’ve done. I have no regrets. Not in killing Faythe nor Agalhor. But give these to the pesky little heir who refuses to die.”

Metal clanged over the rock Maverick had leaned against. Before she could see what it was, the tail blast of wind from his wings blew over her as he left. She wasn’t satisfied that he was leaving so soon, but as she beheld what he’d left behind…

Zaiana’s center of gravity shifted.