Page 5 of Ruin of Revenants

“Unfortunately, Father,” I drawled, “fighting a battle is a lot harder when the dead won’t stay dead.”

“You think you’re witty and charming, a court favorite because a few females lust after you and you can manipulate everyone else’s emotions,” Father went on. Apparently he wanted to thoroughly, publicly humiliate me. “I gave you this chance to prove yourself and show some real mettle, but I think your sister is more vicious than you.” He scoffed and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “I should have sent her.”

I let my smile fall away, trying for earnestness. “She doesn’t care about the citizens and their fate. The losses we sustained and the destruction of Rivenfrond only prove—”

“They prove this was a foolhardy mission, and no one is to leave the borders of Rainsong for acts of ill-advised heroism again.”

I sat back, blinking.

“Your Majesty?” General Starblood interjected. “Are you certain you want to leave the rest of Emberglade unassisted?”

“If they’re not strong enough to survive this, the land and the gods must want them. Perhaps this is a way to purge us of the death-lovers and their sympathizers.”

Grey cleared his throat. “If I may be permitted, I thought we believed the phoenix shifters were creating the revenants by practicing necromancy? Because of the phoenix ability to bring themselves back to life? And the revenants’ immunity to flame?”

King Wystan drummed impatient fingers on the table. “Yes, but if the revenants are forming organized armies and destroying whole towns, it’s only a matter of time before the death-loving phoenixes are wiped out with the rest. We can purge the capital and survive here. It seems their desire to destroy Emberglade will only destroy them too. Let it.”

“What about the people?” Lily asked, speaking for the first time. Her voice cracked; her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She looked to her father, and I wondered for a moment if the king would meet her gaze and condemn her for whatever traitorous thoughts she was having when she clearly disagreed with his proclamation. My stomach twisted.

But Father looked back at me. “Refugees are welcome. But we aren’t sending anyone else out on suicide missions. All that does is feed their numbers by killing off our people. My decision is final.”

My ears rang as Father rose, dismissing us all.

We’re abandoning our people.

Chapter Two

Isoria

In the air, I basked in a stolen moment of peace. There was joy in feeling the wind caress my wing feathers and the sun’s warmth fuel my strength. Phoenix form always made me feel freer, more powerful, like I could swallow all my problems or make them as small as the shrinking trees beneath my claws. With a cry of delight, I unleashed my flames, fire bursting to life along my feathers and trailing from my wings in a beautiful display of red and gold.

For these few sweet, stolen moments, I could pretend my heart wasn’t breaking. Each day that Mama woke in more pain, another crack split through my chest. I sought these morning flights for the brief reprieve they were.

All too soon, I started my descent back toward Cinderwood Forest and home. I tucked in my wings and, right before my claws touched the earth, I shifted. The process was as easy as breathing. My fae feet, still in the sandals I’d tied up my calves this morning, slapped against the earth and signaled the end of my flight. My feathers vanished into my skin, covered now only by my shift dress. Dyed a rich purple and reaching to my mid-thigh, its color was the only elaborate thing about it. My talents didn’t extend to fashioning clothes. When I made them, I didn’t spend time stitching designs along the hem or collar like some of the other females did. Instead, I’d kept it simple and light, something to keep me cool in the muggy heat while working.

As I made my way back toward Everhaven, our sanctuary village hidden deep in the Cinderwood, I passed a group harvesting acai berries, their baskets nearly overflowing.

“Good flight, Iz?” Brook asked as she plopped a berry from her basket into her mouth. “I wanted to go this morning, but…” Her smile dimmed, and guilt instantly pricked me. My best friend rarely flew anymore, not since her mother had grown sick like mine. But while Mama could still get around and care for herself, her dearest friend, so close Bren and I called her Aunt Aurora, was practically bedbound. Brook spent more time at her bedside than anywhere else these days.

“How is she?” I asked gently.

“She’s sleeping, so I figured now was a good time to help pick berries.” Brook set another on her tongue, savoring the taste before chewing.

“You’re eating them faster than I can gather them!” my brother Brenton, still halfway up the tree picking berries, grouched.

Brook merely tossed her hair over her shoulder, the strands of fiery golden-red flashing in the sunlight as she did. “They’re for eating, aren’t they?”

I rolled my eyes—they were always bantering, making me tease Brook endlessly whenever we were in private about the fact that someday, surely, we would be sisters. She always vehemently denied that anything would happen, that he was “just my younger brother.”

I stole a handful of berries from Brook’s basket and joined her in savoring the explosion of flavor as it danced across my tongue. “Is Mama awake, Bren?” I called to my brother.

“Awake and hungry,” Mama’s voice interrupted us. I turned, greeted as usual by her wide smile despite the dark circles painted beneath her eyes.

My stomach flipped. Had she slept at all? The pain in her expression was evident, though whatever ailed her was invisible, just like it was for Aunt Aurora and the other afflicted phoenixes. But she didn’t like us fussing over her, not when there were others suffering more, and with no sign of their magic returning. No flames. No phoenix form. No healing. They had woken one day without any of their powers, as if it all had been snuffed out like a flame. Soon afterward, they’d begun to struggle with pain and weakness we didn’t understand and none of us could heal.

Only the younger generations, like Brook and myself and the little children of our village, could shift and manipulate fire the same as ever, but something had changed in our healing abilities. Now, whenever any of us healed one another, we suffered the pain of the injuries we mended. It was a stark warning that perhaps our days of magic were numbered as well.

Something was deeply wrong, and none of our pleas to the sun goddess Solea or the life goddess Vithenna had brought any answers.