Xolanthe focused her attention on the village gate, which was billowing clouds of black smoke as it burned. Veronyka didn’t understand why the phoenix flew in that direction; maybe she felt somewhat territorial about the area or was drawn there by the fire.
Veronyka watched, heart in her throat, as Xoe dove among the attackers. She was smaller than most of the full-grown phoenixes, but it didn’t stop her from wreaking havoc on the soldiers storming the village. The more they tried to attack her, the more vicious her dives became. They’d brought nets with them, similar to the one the commander had used to trap Xephyra, and Veronyka bristled at the sight of the hated metal mesh. They tried several times to catch Xoe, but she managed to dodge their attempts, screeching in irritation and swooping back around.
In a gust of flame and sparks, she dropped among them, only to rise again with her claws sunk deep into the side of the massive battering ram. Phoenixes could carry heavy loads, but even still, she struggled to take flight. The soldiers holding it clung desperately for a moment, then dropped to the ground, backing away and taking up bows and spears instead. Another net flew into the air, snagging on the ram but missing Xoe’s wing by mere inches.
Fingers of dread slipped down Veronyka’s spine. She tried to throw her magic to the phoenix, to warn her, but she was too far away, and there was too much happening in between them for her to establish any kind of connection. Instead she stared, unmoving, as Xoe pumped her great wings, slowly rising from the mass of soldiers surrounding the front gate, dragging the ram with her.
From underneath her feathers her fire burned, growing hotter and brighter as her plumage began to smolder, then burst into flame, heat waves rippling over the grassy plain as the phoenix and the wooden ram ignited. With a victorious shriek, she dropped the burning assault weapon among the soldiers and spread her wings for flight, unencumbered by the heavy object that had been gripped in her claws.
Veronyka let out a sigh of relief—but it was too soon.
One of the attacking archers lined up his shot and loosed, the arrow lodging itself in the middle of Xoe’s chest. She shrieked, and the agonized sound drew the attention of everyone in the stronghold.
Xoe beat her wings and struggled to fly, but she was still within range. As the embedded arrow shaft caught fire, three more followed it, peppering the side of her body and her left wing.
She keened, her inner light flickering as she banked hard, flapping her good wing, trying to remain aloft. But her flight was imbalanced and sluggish, and the sparks that flew from her body turned to ash as she fell among the rooftops of the silent village. She disappeared from sight, but Veronyka knew, somewhere deep in her magical senses, that the phoenix was gone. She had no bondmate to gather her body or build her pyre, and by the time someone at the stronghold found her—if anyone survived this attack—would it be too late? Or would she choose not to come back anyway, allowing her fire to turn to smoke, her flesh to ash, and her spirit to be free at last?
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Phoenixes were magical, immortal if not slain. They weren’t supposed to be in chains, behind bars, or shot down by empire soldiers. Xoe had fought bravely for the Riders only to have her moment of victory ripped from her and her life extinguished.
A violent screech rent the night, and Xatara burst into sudden, savage flame. She dipped into the trees that dotted the mountainside below, only to surge up again moments later with two soldiers clutched in her talons. She dropped them from a sickening height, their terrified screams and burning bodies disappearing into the forest below, but Xatara wasn’t finished.
She shrieked again, swooping around the edge of the compound and leaving everything—weapons, ropes, and people—burning in her wake. Flaring brighter than the sun, so bright that Veronyka had to shield her eyes, Xatara flew ever upward, farther and farther away. Where she was going, Veronyka didn’t know, but soon she was nothing more than a distant speck of light . . . then nothing at all.
The defenders watched her go, and Veronyka could feel their resolve wavering. Two phoenixes gone in moments, and the others emitting low, sorrowful cries of sadness