certainly be turned in. For every legend of a powerful Phoenix Rider queen with an uncanny ability to tell truths from lies, there was also a cautionary tale about a dark witch who corrupted souls and controlled minds. It was mostly nonsense, Veronyka suspected, but people often rejected and distrusted things they didn’t understand. She and Val were safest if they kept their shadow magic to themselves.
Of course, that didn’t stop Val from using it on Veronyka whenever she pleased.
Guard your mind, Val said, speaking the words inside Veronyka’s head rather than out loud. Like speaking to animals, shadow magic could be used to communicate, or it could be used to influence a person’s will: to order and command. Val often used the latter to get them food or clothes or shelter, but she only ever turned shadow magic on Veronyka to communicate. As far as Veronyka knew. Still, she could see Val was tempted sometimes, when Veronyka disobeyed and refused to listen, and she could understand the danger of such a powerful ability.
“I’m making dinner,” Veronyka announced, drawing her thoughts and feelings inward and putting up mental walls to surround and protect them, just like Val had taught her. She was usually better at keeping her mind guarded, but they’d been tending the fire for two days, and in her exhaustion, her emotions were raw and close to the surface. Cooking some food would help distract her from the alternating surges of fluttering anticipation and aching dread that were in constant flux inside her. The closer they got to the moment of hatching, the more terrified she became that it would go wrong, that it would all be for nothing.
Everything rested upon those two round rocks in the fire.
Veronyka lifted their heavy clay pot and hoisted it over to the edge of the hearth, the bag of rice tucked under her arm. “We’ve still got some onions and dried meat to make broth, and . . . Val?”
Veronyka caught the scent of singed fabric. Val crouched so near the flames that the hem of her tunic was smoking, but she was still as a statue, oblivious to the heat, a steady stream of tears making tracks down her soot-smeared cheeks.
Veronyka’s heart constricted, and she looked into the flames, expecting to see cause for concern. Instead the nearest egg twitched and rattled. Veronyka held her breath. The gentle sound of hollow scraping punctuated the hiss and pop of the flames.
A font of purest, powerful hope welled up inside her chest.
She looked back at Val, asking the question—begging for the affirmation.
Val nodded, her answer barely louder than a whisper. “It’s time.”
In the beginning, there was light and dark, sun and moon—Axura and her sister, Nox.
Axura ruled the day, Nox ruled the night, and together there was balance.
But Nox, ever hungry, wanted more. She began sneaking into the sky during the day, unleashing her children, the strixes, to spread shadows over the world.
To combat Nox’s devouring ways, Axura’s own children, the phoenixes, joined the fray. Only light can defeat darkness, and so they did, beating back the strixes again and again.
The war lasted centuries, and the world suffered under such a regime. But Axura was wise, and in humankind she saw not beings to rule over, but allies to fight alongside.
Atop Pyrmont’s highest peak, Axura took her phoenix form and made contact with the Pyraean tribes who lived there.
“Who among you is brave and fearless?” she asked.
“There is no bravery without fear,” said Nefyra, leader of her tribe.
Axura was pleased with this answer and offered a trial for Nefyra to prove her worth. As a test of faith, Axura lit a fire as tall as the trees and asked Nefyra to enter the flames.
Nefyra did so, and burned alive. But her death was not the end.
She went into the fire a tribal leader and emerged as an animage, a shadowmage, and the First Rider Queen.
—“Nefyra and the First Riders,” from The Pyraean Epics, Volume 1, circa 460 BE
I am a daughter of death. I killed my mother when I was pulled from her womb; from the ashes I rose, like a phoenix from the pyre.
- CHAPTER 2 -
VERONYKA
ON THEIR KNEES IN front of the fire, Veronyka and Val watched as a tiny crack appeared on the egg, growing and spreading, as complex as a spider’s web, until the bits of shell were held together by only a thin membrane. The egg expanded and contracted, pulsing like a heartbeat, glimpses of scarlet plumage