Page 91 of A Flame of the Phoenix (An Heir Comes to Rise #6)

CHAPTER NINETY

Faythe

H ad the cost been worth the win? So much life was embedded in the wounds of a battle that would scar the land for ages to come. So many futures had become unreached dreams, so many faces existing now only in the memories of those left behind.

Faythe, battle-tired and devastated, walked like a ghost through the ruins of the outer town in High Farrow. She passed collapsed buildings, still smoking from extinguished fires. She took in the bodies buried under debris; the crimson stains over the cobbles. With so much tragedy in the wake of their triumph, there was no celebration to be had.

When she made it to her destination, it took everything she had left not to crumble as easily as the stone around her.

Because of everything that had collapsed in ruins…it still stood.

Right in front of her, wedged between two lost homes with their roofs caved in, the cramped hut of her childhood with Jakon still lived.

“Stubborn thing,” she muttered, but her emotions threatened to flood all over again.

She was so exhausted.

The door creaked open at her push—a familiar sound that broke her first sob—and she paused, head bowing. For just a few seconds, she wanted to pretend he would be inside. That Jakon would be waiting for her to come home at that small benched kitchen table. She held onto that memory when his voice in greeting came so clearly in her mind she had to grit her teeth, nails drawing blood from her palms to keep back the tears—but it was no use. Her first tears fell, and she looked up into vacancy.

He wasn’t coming back.

Faythe could hardly drag herself inside, but she did this for him.

The ghost of their memories played out in every abandoned corner. This place had never been vibrant in color, but it had been in joy. She’d lived out so much joy with him as her best friend.

In the bedroom, she hardly made it to his cot before she fell in her grief. Curling tightly into herself, she finally let go. Sobs racked her to agony, until she couldn’t draw breath and nearly let darkness claim her. She buried her face in his pillow, and his scent…it was still there, so faint, but her fae smell could draw it out, and that only shattered the last piece of her heart.

She didn’t know an end to this agony. How she would be able to go on when he’d left her here.

And that was all she was…left behind.

For hours, days—she couldn’t be sure how much time she exhausted herself between crying until she thought it might kill her, sleeping, and lying there in a hollow detachment she couldn’t climb out of.

She knew she wasn’t always alone.

Most of the time, it was Reylan who stayed with her, sitting on the floor, because this cot was never even big enough for Jakon himself.

He didn’t try condolences or attempt to pull her out of the void she was drifting in. She was grateful for it. Reylan’s hand would brush through her hair or trace idly over her arm or leg. Sometimes he took her hand and just stayed with her, patient and mourning with her. He would fill the silence at times just to relay what was happening with everyone else outside these walls she couldn’t leave yet.

She knew she would have to. That the world was moving on, and she would have to follow.

After a few days, she knew she couldn’t deny her hunger any longer, and she was alone when she found the strength to sit up. She sat on Jakon’s cot, hugging his pillow as a final farewell to him. This hut. This life. It would live eternally in her heart, and she was starting to accept what she’d lost.

Her mother. Her father. Caius. Jakon. Marlowe.

She repeated their names, stored them in her soul, and when Reylan returned this time, she felt enough stability to give him attention.

He hesitated in the doorway he’d ducked through, surprised to see her sitting. Faythe managed a small smile, and it was genuine. He was the rock that always grounded her. The fire that always blazed in her. With him, she would have the strength to live with her great losses.

“My Phoenix,” he said, as gentle as a whisper across frost.

Reylan crouched in front of her, taking her hands and searching her eyes. Faythe fell into him like gravity demanded it. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he held her with tight arms around her body. She listened to his heartbeat—the sound that kept her wanting to live. The sound she would always come home to across time and realms.

“We made it,” she whispered, using her voice carefully for the first time in days.

Reylan’s face burrowed more into her neck, and he breathed in deeply. “Yes, we did.”

Faythe found the will to release him slowly, in no rush, but steadily climbing toward leaving this hut once and for all. She slipped a hand over his jaw while her head bowed with the weight of sorrow.

“How is everyone?”

“They’re mourning with you in their own ways. Nik is grieving deeply, but he’s still taking charge of his kingdom. We won the war, but there is always a battle to be fought for the survivors in the aftermath.”

Faythe nodded. She knew how close Jakon and Marlowe had been to Nik and Tauria too. Their circle felt broken now, but between them, their heroic human friends would never be forgotten.

“She knew,” Faythe said. Reylan’s hand cupping her face forced her teary eyes to him. “Marlowe knew Jakon would die. He should have a long time ago, before I met him, by the same illness as his parents. But he was spared by Aurialis in the woods. My mother took him there. That was why Marlowe sacrificed herself, setting off her own chain of events to aid us toward victory. She wanted to be with him in the end, even in tragedy. Marlowe wrote it all and left it in the book I once borrowed from her, knowing I would come here at the end. It’s my choice whether I let it be closure—that fate, no matter how tragic, could never have been fought—or let it fuel my resentment for that fact. It’s unfair and cruel, isn’t it, how the true heroes of the story never win? It simply cannot be.”

Reylan’s eyes filled with misery, sharing her grief.

“What do you choose?”

“I don’t know yet,” she said honestly. Her thumb brushed along his cheek while she swallowed her turmoil. “But I know I choose you. I feel selfish for it. That while you’re still with me, I’m glad I’m alive.”

His eyes closed briefly, like reprieve, before he lost his restraint to kiss her.

“You have no idea how desperately I’ve been waiting to hear that.”

“I’m sorry I took so long.”

Reylan shook his head. “Take as long as you need to grieve. I’ll be right here. But know that from this moment I won’t allow you torment in survivor’s guilt. After all you’ve given, I swear my life to making sure you know how deserving you are to live this life to the fullest.”

Faythe gave a broken smile of gratitude. He would never let her fall apart. They would return to Rhyenelle soon and begin the long road to healing their kingdom too. And for the first time since their victory, Faythe let the warmth of hope seep into her.

“Jakon and Marlowe won the war for us,” she said quietly.

“They’re two of the bravest people I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing.”

She took a shaky breath, but she was ready to start carrying their legacy as they would want of her. “Me too.”

Faythe rose and might have buckled from the shooting pain of her dormant muscles, but Reylan was right there, picking up every piece of her that crumbled.

He didn’t let her go as they headed toward the front door. Faythe didn’t stumble, she didn’t stall, for if she did, she might never make it out. She kept walking against every tether that had wound around her from those days in the hut, tormenting her that walking away meant letting him go.

She would never. Until her very last breath, Jakon and Marlowe would stay with her in every step she took.

The air was clearer when she stepped past the threshold of the hut, but the heavy weight of sorrow still hung. Her eyes stung from the rays of sun that split the cloudy sky, but the light that warmed her face brought her peace.

At High Farrow’s castle grounds, Faythe’s walking slowed in her complete shock.

Three Firebirds occupied the courtyard, seeming so out of place. They’d had to cramp themselves around this space that wasn’t designed for such large creatures. Faythe’s heart ached with yearning for Atherius, who was almost twice the size as all these birds, but her joy was more prominent to see the species wasn’t extinct after Atherius’s death.

Their riders stood by. Livia was one of them, catching her eye amid talking to a beautiful, tall, dark-skinned woman. Lady Samara was also with them.

“Your belief was true then,” Faythe said to her as they reached them.

“It was worth the adventure even if it wasn’t,” Livia said.

Their shared look turned to relief and gratitude before they embraced.

“We’re thinking of going back to Salenhaven, actually,” Livia informed her as they released each other.

Reylan folded his arms, emanating a protective aura. “Back to Salenhaven?”

“It’s wonderful there. I know you’ll miss me, cousin, but you’ll have your hands full as the new King Consort of Rhyenelle.” She winked at him playfully.

Faythe broke a prideful smile, and a giddy flutter broke inside her at the thought of him ruling by her side. “We?” Faythe tacked back to her, skimming her eyes over Samara.

A blush fanned across her pale cheeks when Livia’s eyes fell on her. Then, boldly, the commander drew the timid lady closer with an arm around her waist.

“You get to bond a lot with a person over months crossing the sea to another continent,” Livia mused.

Samara’s face reddened more, but Livia kissed her cheek, then her mouth when it opened to speak.

Faythe smiled broadly, giving them privacy by shifting her attention to the woman beside them who’d come from far west.

“How many Firebirds live in Salenhaven?”

“Only two dozen or so. The Phoenixes come from a faraway island called Embercrest. I only recently learned they originate from your kingdom. It is not taught in our history books. My name is Rhiannon Garrikson. I was a supreme commander of the Phoenix rider academy on the island.”

Faythe’s mouth fell open in shock at hearing of the island.

A riding academy.

The concept sounded so wonderful she couldn’t believe it.

“I would love to visit someday,” Faythe said.

“It is very far. I hope you have wings.”

Faythe smiled to herself. She didn’t know if her Phoenix wings would stop being accessible someday without access to Phoenixfyre, but exchanging a warm look with Reylan, she knew they had other means.

“Thank you for coming to our aid,” Faythe said. “We’re indebted to you.”

“Our high king wasn’t convinced by the thought of risking great forces—it is why only a little over a dozen of us defied his order to come. Livia Arrowood made a very convincing case—I had to see the homeland of our beloved Firebirds. This is Ignisra.” Rhiannon smoothed a hand over the feathers on her bird’s wing, and it looked back on her fondly, with a vertical pupil cutting through a core of warm amber.

Faythe wanted to learn all the names of the Firebirds. It gave her a spark of hope for the future to get to see where they’d migrated to and how they lived on triumphantly.

“You’re welcome to Rhyenelle any time,” Faythe offered. Then she thought, “Do you know how the Phoenix eggs are hatched?”

“When they were wild beasts, we’re taught they hatched sporadically, and some never did. It was like they chose when they wanted to come into the world. Since they’ve started bonding with mortals, they wait for a claiming. The egg stays dormant until it chooses its rider.”

Faythe’s eyes darted to Reylan’s with hope for Atherius’s egg.

“Faythe!” Tauria’s voice sounded from the castle entrance.

The Fenstead queen ran toward her, and Faythe jogged to meet her. They collided in a burst of relief, joy, and sorrow. After all the separation, and with all the evil that had chased each of them on their own paths, Faythe squeezed the gift of her tighter, relieved they’d made it to this reunion in the end.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Faythe croaked.

“Oh, Faythe, I don’t even know where to begin,” she whispered back.

“One day at time.”

It was the only way they would learn to move on with their losses.

She spied Nik over her shoulder. When they released each other, Faythe walked to him slowly. Her eyes pricked at the broken sight of him, though he tried so hard to wear a mask of bravery. It was like it all broke apart when they reached each other.

“Jak and Marlowe…” He trailed off, his voice barely audible.

Faythe couldn’t speak, she fell into him instead. Nik’s arms wrapped her tightly.

Nerida and Tarly were here too, and Faythe’s burdens lightened the more people she accounted for from the battle.

She spun, scanning the courtyard twice. “Kyleer and Izaiah?” she breathed from the panic in her throat. “Zaiana?”

“Look up,” Reylan said, slipping an arm around her.

Faythe threw her head back, and spying the stroke of darkness heading toward them stunned her as much as the first time she’d seen the black Phoenix.

The red Phoenixes cried and became restless. Faythe could feel their fear and distress.

“Is that a black Phoenix?” Rhiannon said in terror.

Faythe couldn’t understand their fear. “It’s not what you think,” Faythe said, trying to calm them.

The other birds only grew more upset, knocking into statues and destroying garden beds. Izaiah must have noticed, because he shifted to a smaller bird to soar down lower before landing in a flash of light, revealing himself as fae.

“Am I really that frighting?” he commented.

Rhiannon stared at Izaiah in stupor. “How can you transform into a black Phoenix?”

“That is a grim story.” When his eyes shifted to Faythe, assumption started swirling in her mind.

Faythe glowered at him, and he almost flinched away when she marched to him. She pulled him into a firm embrace. “You might actually be more insane and reckless than I am,” she mumbled. “I’m glad you’re alive, stupid choices aside.”

He squeezed her. “Me too, Faythe,” he sighed.

“The black Phoenix carries a dark legend,” Rhiannon explained. “I always thought it was just a scary story we grew up with, but with the reaction of the other Phoenixes…well, I guess I’m just glad you’re not a real one.”

“What legend?” Faythe asked, her interest piqued.

“From the void, a black wing shall rise, and with its rider, unmake the light.”

An eerie shiver broke over Faythe’s skin.

Just then, a body dropped down behind her, and Faythe, still on edge from the battle, whirled with her heart in her throat. Her fright quickly changed to shock as her eyes landed on Kyleer, who tucked in his black feathered wings.

“I’ve had enough of legends and prophesies,” Kyleer mumbled in response to Rhiannon’s words.

Faythe almost fell into the demand to hug him, but his memories…

Kyleer smiled brightly. His arms opened. “Don’t keep me waiting after the Nether we survived.”

Faythe drew in a shallow gasp. He remembers. She whimpered as she jogged the few strides, and he lifted her off her feet in their embrace.

When he set her down, Faythe scanned him from head to toe. He was so changed, yet unchanged. His wings were beautiful, but he would have to carry them for the rest of his life against his choosing.

“Where’s Zaiana?” Faythe asked, surveying the land and sky for her. She’d been there at the end to help kill Dakodas.

“I’m not sure. She took off after you got rid of Dakodas. Maverick…he’s dead. Killed by Mordecai in the end.”

“Mordecai is still alive?” Faythe breathed. Renewed panic of war and battle and bloodshed filled her chest, and she struggled to breathe.

Reylan’s arms took her out of Kyleer’s, and he soothed her senses through their bond.

“He has no armies. There are many dark fae who are loyal to Zaiana now—we just need to find her and hope she’ll take her place as the Queen of Valgard. Mordecai is nothing without the Spirits, and they’re gone thanks to you.”

She tried to relax, but in the wake of their great war, it was like it was still reaching dark hands to everything she wanted to begin rebuilding.

Reylan took her face in his hands, and she met his sapphire eyes, glittering with such promise against the break of a new dawn. “We choose us now. We choose our happiness. We rebuild our kingdom and help rebuild the world from the war. There is nothing that can stop us.”

Faythe’s eyes flooded, and she nodded.

She repeated in a promise sealed between their souls. “We choose us.”