Page 11 of Ruin of Revenants

Swallowing back the growing lump in my throat, I threw my arms around him. Bren enveloped me in a bear hug, crushing me to his chest till I could scarcely breathe. “Older but always smaller,” he teased. “Please be safe.”

When I pulled back, Bren was blinking furiously.

“I’ll come back. I promise.” I squeezed his shoulder. “And someone has to stay behind to care for Mama and Brook and Aunt Aurora. Might as well be the big, strong one.” I nudged him, trying to lighten the mood.

Bren rolled his eyes. “You know they’re going to kill me when they discover I let you leave.”

“Don’t let them know you saw me. I left a note.”

“Oh, absolutely not.” Brook’s voice was sharp as she pushed through the foliage and around a nearby trunk, her hands firmly on her hips. “You think I didn’t see you both sneak out of your treehouse? I live next door.” She rolled her eyes.

“Brook, listen—”

“No, you listen.” Her eyes burned as she trained them on me. “I heard what you told Brenton. I know we need help and nothing else has worked. But you? You’re the one who’s fated enemies with Prince Archer! With your futures bound together! You’re the last person who should be traveling toward the capital. It could set that future in motion, the one where he destroys all the phoenixes.”

I drew a deep breath, the air still heavy with the scents of this afternoon’s rain and flowers and earth. But it also felt heavy with promise and destiny. “Or maybe that’s why it has to be me. Maybe he’s the one who inflicted this curse on us and the only way to stop him from fulfilling his prophecy is to fulfill mine.”

Brook and Bren both stared at me for a quiet moment.

“You’re no killer, Izzy,” Brook said, but the resignation in her tone told me she was giving in. Accepting that, to save her mother and mine, to save everyone, it had to be me who went. Maybe she could feel the sense of inevitability in the air too, understood that despite my nature and our endless conversations about how we could never see me fulfilling the prophecy, no one could argue with Maris’ words. No one in the history of Emberglade had ever proven the oracle to be wrong.

With a ragged sigh, Brook threw herself at me, pulling me into a tight hug that stole my breath. “Solea’s fire, I hate this. If my mother didn’t need me at her bedside, you wouldn’t be able to go alone.”

I laughed through my tears. “I wish you could come.”

“If you don’t return, I’ll hunt you down and drag you back here,” Brook added as she pulled away, frowning and pretending to punch my arm to hide the fact that her eyes were watering.

“No, I will,” Bren cut in.

“I’ll come back,” I promised them both. “No hunting necessary. See you soon.”

And with that, before I could let more emotions overrun me, I turned and shifted, spreading my wings and leaping toward the rainforest canopy and the velvet-dark sky beyond.

Ivy clung to the temple, rising out of the mists at the edge of the rainforest like a beacon of hope. Night had descended and the moon was already high and bright in the sky, gracing my footsteps with her light. Though I always missed the sun when she set, something about the cool light of the moon and stars was soothing, reminding me that they echoed the brilliance of the daylight.

The temple itself sat quiet, its heavy metal doors barred against the night and its windows all shuttered. Likely its inhabitants had gone to sleep to prepare for a sunrise wakeup and time of worship. Or at least, that’s what I assumed the worshippers at the temple would do.

As I approached, I studied the etchings on the doors and along the stone walls—what wasn’t concealed by the foliage. Depictions of the sun, flames, and rays of lights traced beautiful patterns along the exterior of the temple. Large torches rested at regular points on either side of the staircase leading to its doors, but they were unlit.

My uneasiness grew as I climbed the large steps, straining my ears for any sound and scanning the forest for any sign of life. It didn’t surprise me that no worshippers were out at this time, but I’d expected the torches to be lit. Or were they shunned now for their association with phoenix shifters? Had they taken a stand against the violence and laws against us?

Pausing at the door, I wiped the sweat from my brow, listening once again for any stirring inside. There was only the chirring of insects and movement of unseen animals creeping through the boughs overhead—birds and lizards I’d disturbed with my passing or nocturnal creatures seeking out prey. I knocked on the metal doors, the thudding sound matching the rhythm of my pounding pulse.

A minute passed. Two.

Biting my lip, I tried again, waiting once more to no avail.

Surely the temple would be unlocked and its inhabitants wouldn’t turn away someone seeking to enter the sanctuary and worship the goddess. I hoped not, though times had changed, and maybe they barred visitors for their own protection.

I tried the doorknob and it gave way, letting me push open the door without resistance.

Solea, I prayed, pressing my hand over my heart, please forgive me for trespassing.

Moonlight poured through the windows of a long hallway with a high ceiling, revealing thick rugs decorated in vibrant shades of red, orange, yellow, and pink that reminded me of sunrises and sunsets. Tapestries and paintings adorned the walls, a riot of color in an otherwise stark place of stone. The worshippers had worked hard to make the space inviting, though none of the candles were lit.

I frowned, but again, I assumed that meant they’d all gone to sleep. Entering the temple, I crept quietly down the hall, my footsteps soundless as my boots sank into the plush rugs. At the end of the hall was another set of double doors, these ones ornately carved wood, but they were also shut. Assuming they led to the inner sanctum where I could pray to the sun goddess, I hastened my steps.

And then it hit me—the chill down my spine, the flash of discomfort. I hadn’t been around it before, but my magic knew what it was, instinctively, because of my tether to healing and life and death.