Page 87 of A Flame of the Phoenix (An Heir Comes to Rise #6)

CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX

Kyleer

K yleer fought harder than he ever had before. He had to stop Izaiah from sacrificing himself to close the rift. The drum in his chest amplified. His mind spun too fast as Izaiah ran toward it.

My little brother.

He was supposed to protect him, and yet Kyleer had failed him. He screamed Izaiah’s name again as his brother leaped into the rift, and Kyleer’s mind… erupted .

So many reels of moving images hammered through his head that he lost focus on his fighting and fell to his knees. Shadow creatures lunged for him, but Kyleer didn’t really care anymore. He couldn’t tear his sight from where Izaiah had been swallowed by the rift.

Tynan defended him, cutting through the shadows that raced for him while he kneeled there helpless and devastated.

He remembered everything. His past with Izaiah were the first memories to tear through him. They weren’t all joyous, but the company was. Without Izaiah, Kyleer didn’t know who he would have become. Izaiah had given him light in all the darkness. A purpose and a will to fight against anything that tried to hurt them growing up.

And he’d let his little brother die.

A new surge of creatures swarmed in and reached to grab him…then they seized before they could attack, hissing and wailing before, one by one, the shadows lost their animation and blew away as nothing more than smoke on the wind.

To Kyleer’s horror, the rift began to close faster.

He scrambled to his feet, racing toward the rift, recalling the horrifying day of his Transition. The new wings he carried now slowed him down. So many memories cut through him, but he didn’t stop running.

Zaiana… She’d been there when they killed him. She’d fought for him.

Her stunning face flooded his mind. The biggest regret that filled his chest if he were to meet his end permanently this time…was that he wouldn’t get to thank her. To tell her she was wrong. In all the time they’d spent together while his memories were gone, he’d wanted her there. Remembering their rocky past changed nothing. And his only wish…was that they could have had more time together.

Kyleer raced time. Raced the closing door about to seal with his brother inside.

He wasn’t going to make it.

A battle cry tore from him as he reached out a hand, thinking if he could just touch it , maybe it would suck him inside too.

But it didn’t…

Kyleer stumbled with the desperate last push of his body before the rift slammed shut with a violent burst of air.

He stood deathly still, in complete denial over what had just happened. His chest heaved, and the silence that settled turned his heart to glass, one bottled scream away from shattering in his soul-tearing anguish.

“Izaiah…” he breathed. As if he would get a response from his brother and turn around to find out this nightmare wasn’t real.

Instead he found Tynan on his knees, staring blankly at the space where the void had been. Izaiah had done it. Freed the world from the shadow creatures and given their forces an immense reprieve.

In his selfishness, Kyleer couldn’t accept the price as worth it.

Even though the rift was gone, the whispering presence of it lingered on his skin. Kyleer didn’t know all that had changed within him since Transitioning, but he remembered something like a dream during his change. He’d seen a tall, looming hooded figure with no face, holding a scythe. He didn’t know why that flash of vision came back to him now, but he wondered if something had interfered with his Transition…and left their mark in his feathered wings.

He heard whispers in his ear that goaded him. Taunted him. Whispers of death that shredded through his mind. When he couldn’t stand it a second longer, Kyleer lunged forward with a cry dragged from the Nether itself. Right where the vertical strip of the rift had torn thorough the air, Kyleer plunged his hands between it…and met a resistance.

Maybe it was his own delusion—a frantic force of his imagination—but Kyleer let the vibrations rake over his skin. He gripped the invisible seams of the rift with a God-defying determination to rip it back open himself.

If it returned the shadow creatures…to the Nether with the world if it meant he got his brother back. Kyleer wondered what that made him to be so cold and selfish, but that was a consequence he would harbor later.

“Gods above,” Tynan muttered.

Kyleer could hardly hear his voice as dark energy tore through him, resisting his will to split the rift open with his bare hands.

Two dark lines manifested behind his hands that trembled as if trying to split a boulder in two from a mere spiderweb of a crack. A slither of the dark void beyond opened up, and Death chuckled in his ear, delighted.

Fire tore through his muscles that protested to let go. He couldn’t. Kyleer stood there like a God, determined to rip open the void that had stolen his brother. If he could just open it large enough to slip inside, maybe he could find Izaiah and tear it open from within to get back to this world.

Sweat rolled down his face as he pushed himself far beyond his physical limits. It shouldn’t be possible, but the adrenaline coursing through him knew no end.

As the rift fought him with dark and deadly surges of power, suddenly it gave up. The resistance stopped, and Kyleer let go to watch the rift roar open bigger than before.

Then from it…

Kyleer watched in complete awe and terror as a great black Phoenix emerged with an ear-piercing cry that rattled the stars.

The rift slammed shut. The force of it barreled into Kyleer, but he caught himself in the air with his wings. Then he beat them hard, chasing the black Phoenix.

Hovering in the sky, he watched as the Phoenix soared over the main battlefield, announcing its triumphant presence with another cry.

“He did it,” Tynan said, floating next to him. “Izaiah became the black Phoenix.”

Kyleer couldn’t believe it. He wanted to yell at his brother for his reckless stupidity, yet all of that washed away under his incredible pride.

His little brother was brilliant.

Foolish, reckless, sometimes arrogant…but absolutely brilliant.

The black Phoenix landed in a gap that opened on their side. Everyone balked at the black Firebird as its shadows leaked around their feet. Izaiah’s chest heaved, and people cried out, trying to scramble for distance.

Thick darkness rolled off his body and projected from his breath. It didn’t harm any of the living. Kyleer didn’t know much about the black Phoenix, but he tensed, awaiting the outcome of what its power could do.

To his amazement and complete fear…its breath affected the dead, not the living.

Kyleer landed on a mountain peak, stunned by what he was witnessing.

“It can animate the dead,” Tynan informed him. “While Izaiah commands it, the corpses will fight for him.”

It was a morbidly fascinating concept. As he watched the bodies of the fallen arise again, the tide of the war shifted in their favor. The numbers they were severely outmatched by evened out, and they would tip more in their favor with every enemy slain that Izaiah would temporarily resurrect to fight against them now.

The advantage was unparalleled.

Izaiah was alive.

His mind tried to soothe itself, but until his brother stood in front of him in his fae body, Kyleer couldn’t let go of the terror of losing him.

Kyleer was about to go down and join the fighting alongside the black Phoenix, but an eruption of electricity and light cast his attention to his right. It was distant, wedged within farther mountain peaks on the fringe, but the sensation was unmistakable. The faint infusion of purple through the lightning attracted him like a moth to a flame.

Zaiana was in trouble.

His teeth gritted. Casting his sight back to Izaiah, he saw the Firebird and its army of the dead were dominating the battlefield, so he wouldn’t be much of an impact. Tynan would go to him.

So Kyleer set his sights back on the anguish that was casting from his beautiful nightmare, and he went to her.