Page 105 of A Flame of the Phoenix

“It’s one of four cursed temples throughout Ungardia. They were all infiltrated and destroyed, the worshippers all killed.”

Faythe became eager for more of the story. Reylan let her go, beginning to collect any stick and branch he could through the snow for a fire.

“What did they worship?” Faythe edged for more as she helped him sift through the snow for tinder.

“Death,” Reylan said. That single word shadowed over them.

“Like Dakodas?”

“She’s but a whisper of the true primordial.”

Faythe shuddered. “Why would people who want to live pray to the God of Death?”

“Death can take away what life gives. But it’s more than that. The primordials as old as time have the power to snap worlds intwo should they wish. There are those who believe Death is the strongest and fairest of them all.”

Dropping her sticks on top of Reylan’s pile, Faythe sat with her thoughts. The wind whistled an eerie song through the gaps in the stone and down the pitch-black passages. She fixed her eyes down one, chilled by the illusion of the dark reaching out a hand. Faythe jumped, snapped from the hallucination, when Reylan threw more sticks down.

He crouched on his haunches, staring at her with their pile between them.

“If you let me out of these, I can light that in a heartbeat,” Faythe said.

Reylan almost smiled. He raised a hand, snapped his fingers, and Faythe’s mouth parted at the blue fire that sparked in his palm.

“You can’t reach your magick, but I can.”

It was becoming clearer how powerful he was with the ruin in him.

Faythe’s look soured, but her irritation was quickly forgotten when the fire grew and the heat enveloped her. She sighed, hugging her knees to her chest. The sticks snapped and popped, and the air howled. Her lids grew heavy.

“Why didn’t you run?” Reylan asked, so soft against the warring elements.

“You would have found me.”

“You doubt yourself that much?”

Faythe shook her head, not looking up from the flames. “It’s just what we do. We find each other.”

Reylan didn’t respond. Instead he said, “You should get sleep.”

“So should you.”

“Are you always this stubborn?”

Her eyes pricked. How much of his memory about her had Marvellas buried in her cruel scheme? Faythe couldn’t allow herself to panic. Once she got that ruin out of him, he would remember. She wouldmakehim remember everything.

Faythe lay down in silence. She didn’t think she would get any decent rest with only her hands to cushion her head and her cloak as a blanket. When she couldn’t stand the impression of his eyes on her above the flames, she turned her back on him.

The distance of strangers, ofenemies, ached in her soul. Faythe untucked one hand from under her head to glance at her golden butterfly ring. A reminder of time defied and distance erased between them once, and they would do it again.

“There’s a stream nearby. I’m going to collect water for our travels tomorrow,” he said.

Faythe listened to the shuffle of his movements without a word.

“You’re right. I will find you no matter how far or fast you try to run. Don’t waste your energy.”

With that, he left her, and Faythe closed her eyes, knowing it didn’t matter the circumstance or peril…she wasn’t capable of running away from him.

Faythe was woken by a whisper—one that caressed her ear like a stroke of darkness, snapping open her eyes but holding her still in the mercy of unknown terror.

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