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Chapter Sixty-Eight

Annora

“Summon your Phoenix, Annora. Kill them all.” I wake with a jolt, hearing Aleksander’s voice echoing in my mind, again and again. “Summon your Phoenix. Kill them all.”

Everything blurs—the walls, the floor, Jasce—as I move to the table and grab a surcoat.

With trembling fingers, I yank it over my body.

“Kill them. Kill them all.”

Aleksander’s voice pounds through my mind as I stumble out of the tent into the predawn darkness and summon the Phoenix, and she materializes in a burst of golden light.

Tears stream down my face, but I can’t wipe them away. Can’t lower my arms. Can’t close my eyes. Can’t stop any of this.

Help me, Olah.

Please, please help me.

Warmth spreads through my body—licking at my arms, my feet, my hands. I lift them to the sky, holding them there, as if the gods are watching me, listening, strengthening me.

I don’t want to hurt my people.

Protect them.

Please, protect them.

Something stirs from deep within my bones. Something stronger than myself. Stronger than the stars. Stronger than the bond I share with Aleksander.

I am Annora!

Not Lyra’s vessel.

Not Aleksander’s puppet.

Not my grandfather’s shame.

With shaky hands, I reach for the dagger in my sleeve and plunge it deep into my chest.

Emberdione shrieks, her golden form dissolving as I fall to my knees. The silver bracelets crack, hairline fractures spreading across their surface.

“I choose…” I gasp out, “...to end it myself.”