Page 35 of An Archer's Redemption

As I rose to my feet, Kelså watched, arms crossed with a quirk across her lips. “Done playing yet?”

“Sorry.” My cheeks flushed. “I’ll never get used to this place.”

As we strode across the chamber to the Well, I glanced at the light playing off the crystalline walls and ceiling. A thousand reflections danced throughout the cave.

Kelså stopped at the edge of the Well and breathed deeply as tendrils of wispy power curled to greet her. Fingers of magic tickled her feet, then crawled up her legs until her entire formwas bathed in pearlescent mist. The effect was otherworldly—and strikingly beautiful. She turned at my gasp and smiled.

“It tingles,” she said. “Come, I need your connection. You will need to approach the Well for this to work.”

I closed the distance to stand beside her, and the magic responded, crawling up my lanky body. I shivered, but a giddy grin spread across my face. I looked down at the magic coursing across my hands and played at interrupting its flow with my fingers.

“Connection to what?” I asked.

“To whom, not what.”

I looked up, perplexed.

Kelså’s eyes closed, and she muttered ancient words, barely audible though I stood a pace away. The mist brightened and sped in its flow across our bodies. Another gust rushed from the Well to gather and hover in an undulating mass above the opening, pulsing like a heartbeat, then resolving and taking form.

Kelså continued to chant.

I had only seen the Phoenix herself once, high above the city of Saltstone, but there was no mistake; my mother had called forth the majestic beast. Her shimmering form grew until it towered above and spread across the ceiling. Finally formed, the beast’s head snapped downward, and she locked eyes with me.

I staggered back a step. The mist scattered before reforming across my body.

“Órla?” The name croaked from my parched throat.

“Hello, Bond-Mate,” her voice boomed through the chamber.

I gaped at the ethereal Phoenix’s form.

“Órla! Spirits, Órla, I’ve missed you so much,” I said in a hoarse whisper as tears tickled my cheeks.

“And I have missed you, but I can only maintain this form for a few moments.”Her gaze shifted to Kelså. “Keeper, the currentsremain disturbed. Irina still haunts the world of the living. While her power is diminished, she may inhabit and subsume others who possess Gifts. She may also sever them from the flow of magic, as the Arch Mage has learned. Atikus is lost to our arts . . . for now.”

“How can we help him get his connection back?” I asked.

“You cannot. His Gifts will return in time as his body and mind heal.” She paused, and her gaze became a distant stare. “Atikus will heal, but I fear the threat is greater still. IfeelIrina’s presence, her rage. She will stop at nothing in service to her vengeance. No one is safe, especially those with a Gift, while her spirit roams this land.”

Kelså braced herself against one of the crystal pillars surrounding the Well. “Where will she go? What will she seek to destroy now?”

“Since her return, her purpose has been single-minded—vengeance. Her defeat at Saltstone enraged her further. Her mind is veiled from my Sight, but I sense a roiling sea within her. When she comes, she will billow and rage as the storm. Her spirit must be banished, or all will be lost.”

The mist dimmed and blurred.

Órla’s voice whispered in my mind.

“Irina’s tomb has been destroyed. She cannot return once banished. Declan, you are the only one capable of banishing her for good. This world will never be safe as long as her spirit wanders freely.”

Before I could speak, the Phoenix shattered into a thousand flickers of Light. Pinpricks of brilliance flared like embers but grew icy cold against my skin before they faded into nothing.

In the stillness of the cavern, I stared into the Well, wishing for one more moment with my lost friend.

The river of ancient power beneath our feet flowed but refused to speak.

Sometime later, Kelså and I again sat at the wooden table in her kitchen, each of us cradling a steaming mug. The sweetly bitter scents of honeyed black tea offered some comfort to our frayed nerves following Órla’s message.

“Can Irina really destroy the magic of our world? She doesn’t even have a body.”

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