Page 5 of Ashborne Phoenix

Our eyes locked and I felt her fear, her confusion, her plea. “Puh…please—”

“NO!” I shouted once more. “No! Stop! You have to stop!”

I plunged that knife back down, between her ribs and her body twitched again. Impossibly, her eyes widened further, but she didn’t scream. She writhed, jerking against the ritual bonds that held her to the eschara.

“No! Stop!” I screamed and stabbed her again.

And again.

And again.

I felt nothing but panic. Saw nothing but red. Knew nothing except that she had to stop moving—didn’t she know she had to be still? They wouldn’t stop until she did.

The cacophony around me rose higher and higher until the stones shook with their fervent cries. And even though I felt their voices vibrating in my chest, the only one I heard was my mother.

“Sanguis antiquus canit. Heres honoris antiqui vivit!” The Old Blood lives. The Heir of Ancient Honor lives!

No matter how I screamed, she only grew louder. Until finally, the body stopped twitching, and the eyes glazed.

I couldn’t breathe.

Sound vibrated in my bones, but I couldn’t hear it. I couldn’t hear anything for a time. When my ears opened once more, the words had changed. And though I’d never heard them before, I knew them.

Omnes ad testimonium vocantur. All are called to witness.

Sanguis antiquus canit. The Old Blood lives.

Heres honoris antiqui vivit! The Heir of Ancient Honor lives!

Vis sanguinis in eo canit. The power of the blood sings in him!

And with every chant, a frigid cold pumped further through my veins, until it seemed that my skin would crackle like ice when I moved.

So, I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Because, if I failed, I might be next.

I don’t remember leaving that place. I never learned the girl’s name. I only know that once I was returned to my room, I shook, and shook, and shook, and I couldn’t get warm. The cold had sunk into my bones.

I was bathed by multiple maids, all babbling with excitement, while my mother hovered, brimming with pride, beaming at me over their shoulders.

“You were wonderful, Vane. Perfect. Can you feel the power growing? It’s there—I can sense it in you!”

Mother laughed with unfettered joy. Through chattering teeth, I swallowed, then nodded, grasping onto her delight, clinging to it. “Y-yes.”

Because something had returned from that chamber with me. Something that rode my blood and pulsed within me, counterpoint to my heartbeat.

My skin hummed with it until it felt like I must be able to see it, coating me. But still it spread, until my flesh was too tight and I struggled to breathe—because there was no room behind my ribs. My heart expanded, doubling the space it required within my chest.

“M-mother,” I gasped as the maids held my hands to step out of the deep tub and began to dry me, one of them bracing an arm to help me stay upright when my knees threatened to give. “Mother, who w-was sh-she?”

My mother’s smile widened and she stopped her pacing, her robes swinging as she stooped to kneel in front of me and cupped my cheek.

“She gave herself for you, Vane,” she said happily. “She is a sister of the blood, and she gave herself for you. She offered her blood to strengthen yours—you should always be grateful for her. Always.”

I nodded. But even though my shaking stopped, even though my skin was red with heat from the scalding bath, and my teeth no longer chattered, I was cold inside.

Wide, white, crying eyes—pleading.

She gave herself for you. She offered her blood to strengthen yours…