Page 103 of Ruin of Revenants

“Yes. My people are losing their magic and dying. I don’t know why or how to stop it. Please, I need to know: Can you help us?”

Vithenna tipped her head, assessing me, before holding out her hand. I blinked in confusion. “Take my hand,” she said, “and let me show you something.”

Hesitantly, I placed my palm in hers. Instantly, the misty world around us vanished. I could still feel my body kneeling in that cloudy space, but a new world overtook my vision.

Instead, it was like I was standing on a crowded street in Rainsong, the moon cloaked in clouds and smoke. The tang of ash burned the back of my throat as I scanned the gathered onlookers. Shrieks shattered the night but the crowd didn’t flee. It was as if, despite their terror, they felt the need to watch, either out of respect toward their king or out of a need to see the chained female brought to justice.

Behind the female, a roaring fire devoured a home.

“You killed them!” someone was screaming. “You killed them all!”

Others were weeping, their shoulders wracked with their sobs.

My wild eyes tracked the flames, finding a neighboring house was also ablaze. Another. A fourth. A fifth. My heart stuttered as I realized an entire row of houses was burning. The flickering orange and red light cast over everyone in the street was eerie, painting the tears tracing cheeks in shades of blood.

“I’ll kill all of you if that’s what it takes!” the prisoner roared, her pale eyes wide and remorseless, gleaming with a bloodlust that chilled me to the bone. Her azure hair was plastered to her skull with sweat and blood, like she’d been injured while trying to escape—or had harmed others in the process. “I’ll burn Emberglade to the ground! Destroy you all! We all will.”

“Kill her,” King Wystan barked to the small form at his side. “Dispense justice for our innocent dead, son.”

Young Prince Archer, his hair a shock of gold in the darkness and his mouth set in a tight line, stepped forward.

I closed my eyes as he ordered the female to take the dagger he’d extended toward her and slit her own throat, but it didn’t block out the gruesome gurgling or the thud of her body. The onlookers cheered and shouted. “Death to the fire demons!” came their cries, and for once, I didn’t only feel their fear or indignation.

I understood their pain.

More scenes followed, flashing by with equally disturbing images. They showed phoenixes either retaliating when cornered by their hunters or lashing out in rage against King Wystan’s decree—it hardly mattered when I watched innocent lives being taken.

My stomach churned.

Then came a new vision, one in an unfamiliar place of green grass and warm sunshine, where the light was infinitely brighter, more colorful and vibrant, and the earth around me seemed to hum with life. There were flowers blooming, fruits gleaming, and animals lounging or playing everywhere I looked, along with glimpses of beings as awe-inspiring and flawless as Vithenna.

“They have to be stopped, Solea.” This was Vithenna’s voice, sharp with annoyance as she approached a female with hair the color of living flames. Solea.

Solea glanced up. With each of her movements, the shades of her hair shifted, an ever-varying array of fiery locks. Her eyes were molten gold, her features strong and proud. Plucking a nearby flower off its stem, Solea twirled it between her fingers as she narrowed her eyes at Vithenna. “I thought we agreed to no longer interfere in the affairs of those on the mortal plane. We aren’t strong enough to withstand time in their world now that we’ve moved on. Our work is done.”

“Hardly,” Vithenna bit out. “First, an imposter not recognized by the land—not of the bloodline we chose—murdered the royal family and stole the throne. And now he’s slaughtering. He and your phoenixes.”

“My phoenixes are healers. Talk to Sanvo. He worked with me to bless them with that nature.”

“You made them too powerful,” Vithenna complained.

“You worked with me to create their magic as well,” Solea added, crushing the petals in her grasp. “If they’re killing, perhaps it’s to stop your murderer king and restore justice and peace to our kingdom. They will do what’s right. Their magic is opposed to death.”

“Their magic works with death,” Vithenna retorted, crossing her arms. “And now there’s entirely too much of it. The land will never recognize that usurper king or his offspring. We need to stop him and set things right. I’m going to purge the kingdom, and you’re going to help me by punishing the phoenixes. I’ve already spoken to Sanvo to weaken their healing powers.”

Solea dropped her crushed flower with a toss of her hair and stomped to Vithenna. “You already made a move against the phoenixes without consulting me?”

“Like you said, Sanvo and I had a part in making them what they are. So we are withdrawing our magic from them.”

Solea gasped before gritting her teeth in fury.

“Whether you join us or not,” the goddess of life continued, “most if not all of their magic will be snuffed out without their innate abilities to heal or their ties to my power of life. They’ll weaken. If they are harmed, they won’t resurrect. Perhaps they won’t be strong enough to shift or use their fire magic, either.” Vithenna shrugged like it didn’t matter to her, spinning on her heel and stalking away.

One last image came to me, one of Solea standing in a dim cabin full of drying herbs and vials. It was familiar to me from a single important, long-ago visit: Maris’ cabin. “I’ve been watching your prophecies,” Solea was telling Maris, who crouched before her fire, prodding at a log with the poker. “I know Vithenna visited and told you what prophecies to declare to the false prince and Isoria Gildmere. She made you manipulate their choices, their fates. She interfered without the other gods’ knowledge, even though we made a vow not to ever intervene without informing the others.”

Maris stiffened. “What will you have me do? The prophecies have been spoken. Since the choice was made, I watched their fates, how they are tethered and uncertain. Even before Vithenna interfered, they were tied together in many ways I could not yet discern.”

Solea smiled like a content cat. “I see hope in Isoria’s prophecy. If she overthrows the usurpers, perhaps Vithenna will finally be satisfied. We can appoint a new ruler for Emberglade, and she can restore my phoenix’s magic.”