Page 78

CORVUS

The wind shifted, a low, whispering breath that stirred the remaining leaves above me.

The trees creaked in protest, their roots buried deep in the damp earth, unmoving as the night pressed heavy against them.

The air carried the scent of wet bark and distant fire—her fire.

It crackled against the silence, flickering embers dancing in the air before fading into the dark.

I had been here long enough to become part of the forest itself, just another shadow among the branches, watching as the girl lingered alone on the porch.

Foolish.

The knight had left her, stepping back into the house without a second glance. The conversation between them had ended in something tense, something bitter, but I hadn’t been close enough to catch the words. It didn’t matter. The meaning was plain enough.

The glow in her hands flared brighter—hot, defiant—as she hurled the book into the trees. Sparks leapt into the air, twisting like fireflies before they vanished, consumed by the cold. She had power, but no control.

We will take control, the voices whispered.

And yet…

I stayed in the dark, my patience unshaken. There would be a time for this. A time to move. A time to strike. But not yet. Not tonight.

For now, I would only watch.

After all the searching, after years spent waiting for the Divide to deliver what was owed, after tracking whispers of the Phoenix across continents—she had been here. Hidden in plain sight the whole time. It was almost amusing.

Almost.

My daema should have brought her to me. Instead, they let her slip through their fingers, allowing her to be stolen from us again.

And for their failure, they paid in blood.

No matter. I can always make more.

My gaze flickered back to her, watching the way the fire curled in her palm—unrefined, hungry. I had seen Phoenixes before, known their kind in the golden age of Titan. They had been strong, but controlled. She was different.

Too raw. Too wild. Too human.

We will tame her, they said with glee.

She shouldn’t exist. Not like this. The Phoenix magic had never claimed a fire elemental before, yet it burned brighter in her than anything I’d ever seen.

The Divide had chosen again. Another mistake. Another oversight. It had taken from me once—stripped me of my right, discarded me as if I were nothing.

And now, it had chosen flames. It had called upon its own destruction.

The longer I watched, the more the bitterness seeped in. The Divide always chose its favorites. It had chosen me once, too. Given me power, given me purpose. And then, just as easily, it ripped it away.

I knew what came next. It always ended this way.

She thought she was divine. Thought the Divide had blessed her, that it would carry her forward into the destiny it had designed for her.

She was wrong. The Divide had been wrong then, just as it was now.

We should act.

Not tonight.

We could take her.

I will.

We will feast on her flames.

It grated against everything in me to let her go. To remain in the shadows. To let her stand there in the night, wrapped in the fire that will condemn both worlds. But patience had always served me well.

There would be an opportunity. One perfect moment, and when it came, I would take her.

But first—I needed to see what she was truly capable of.

We shall watch.

I stepped back. Unseen. Unheard. The forest swallowed me whole, darkness enveloping me.

She thought she was special.

She wasn’t.

The Divide always demanded too much. It placed the pedestals, it let you believe you were chosen—until it decided you weren’t. Until it took everything back, left you hollow, and called it fate.

She would break.

Just as we had.

And when it turned on her—I would be there to take back what it stole from me.