Phoenix Academy - Lucy Auburn Page 0,42

I think of him are black eyes. All I hear is a voice without warmth or humor.

They're not the same man.

But at the same time, they are. It was my father's hands that killed me, even without his soul in them. And my father is still the one tracking me, hunting me, searching for me—to put an end to what was reborn.

If he gets his hands on me again, there's no telling how many deaths I'll suffer. How many times I'll succumb to mortality only to be reborn. The torture would be endless.

I have to find him and put a stop to him before that happens.

Moving into the room, the guys pass through me. Feeling the spark of their shifter power, our connection, I shiver and break away from this horrible room. They're staring at the blood stains now and discussing where I might be; the top theory is still that my spirit went back into my body at the academy, though Xavier is arguing there must be a reason why the three of them wound up here.

There is a reason, I'm starting to realize. I'm back here because some part of me never really left. Even as my body was reborn on that pyre, my spirit was forever changed by what happened here.

Walking through the back door, I slowly turn to face the end of it.

The charred remains of the pyre call to me. They've been blown around by the wind, covered in fallen leaves and pummeled by rain, but much of their blackened remains are still piled up in a heap on the ground. Scorch marks run across the woods beside them, not just from the fire that was lit to burn my body and my mother's body, but also from my own phoenix fire as I woke in a rage and lashed out at my father's followers.

Fire killed and consumed me, but also became my steadfast companion. I didn't realize how much I'd become used to the warmth of my phoenix flames inside me until just now, when they've gone dormant in my spirit form. It's as if there's an empty fireplace with cold coals inside my heart where a furnace should be.

Inhaling, I reach out with the one type of magic still available to me: my naturalistic senses. I can feel the distant squirrels and birds, wary of getting too close to this place of violence. Moving my senses further out, I pick up other things: hawks in the sky, deer grazing on grass hidden beneath layers of autumnal leaves, raccoons and foxes, animals both big and small.

Within them all I sense a little part of my mother's aura.

The wind scattered her ashes and threw them into the fresh water streams. Her remains danced on the wind and fell to the ground in far-flung places. Even as far away as she is from me, her spirit hopefully at rest by now, there's still some of her with me. I may not be able to visit with her, but I can always visit her grave, which is miles and miles of land all around me.

Thinking of my old life, I mourn how sad and small it often was. We were always running, moving, looking over our shoulders. But despite that smallness, my mother was a constant presence in my childhood. Her warmth, vitality, and strength led me on. I always believed that she would be able to beat back the darkness and protect me from the monster on our trail.

Now it's time for me to lay her to rest.

Just as soon as I finish what I should've started long ago: ending the Heretic once and for all.

He's my responsibility. Not just because of revenge. But because as long as he's out in the world, he'll be infecting others with his hateful soullessness. His followers grow, and his influence travels. There's no telling how many witches he could harm in his immortal life—especially now that I've changed the barrier between realms for good. With wild magic running its course and wakening sparks of magic inside witches who were dormant, he'll have more targets than ever, and more opportunities to gain followers.

So it's up to me to take him out.

Taking a deep breath, I walk out towards the woods and let the wilderness wash over me. My mother's presence is a steady low murmur out here. I can hear the voices of the guys planning how to save me, drifting from the cabin windows, raising and falling in discussion.