Page 144 of A Flame of the Phoenix

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Faythe

“This plan of yours sounds impossible,” Faythe said, pacing her cell.

“So does my being here at all,” Nyte countered.

That was a good point.

Faythe considered it again. His theory suggested Faythe might be capable of transferring the thread of his consciousness, which had latched itself to her, into someone else’s mind instead. Therefore, he might be able to control their mind and have a physical body.

“The mind is far more complex than we can ever imagine. An ability like ours to tap into conscious and unconscious brains is unparalleled and full of unexplored potential. Reading thoughts, compulsion…that’s all at the most basic level.”

“That’s easy, and fascinating to talk about in theory, but in practice, it’s never been done.”

“Yet,” Nyte added with a small, wicked smile. “Everything is unexplored until the first curious person ventures beyond what’salready known. I have no doubt in my ability once I have a host, so I need you to believe you can give me one.”

“And Captain Daegal is who you’re choosing to become?”

“Unless you have a host of others to choose from that you’re keeping to yourself.”

Faythe pursed her lips then groaned in defeat, running a hand down her face. “If this doesn’t work, all I’ll receive is a brutal beating from him.”

Nyte shrugged. “It’s a risk.”

He didn’t care at all. As he’d reiterated many times, even this plan to gain him a host was his attempt to aid himself. Nyte had no intention of helping them in this war against his mother—he had a far more important person he needed to get back to.

“The one who’s waiting for you…she’s your mate?”

Faythe lingered it like a question, but she felt his sharp edge was made of the deepest concern and distress to be parted from her. Just as hers was for Reylan.

“Yes,” he said.

Reylan was still close by. She couldn’t imagine the tear her soul would feel if she woke up in a new realm away from him.

“I’ll help you,” Faythe agreed. “But while we’re figuring out how to get you back, you have to help us in any way you can in return.”

The gold in Nyte’s eyes darkened a shade before it subdued. He didn’t like negotiation—that was clear.

“How exactly do you plan to stop my mother?” Nyte asked.

Faythe debated what to share with him. If she could grant him a temporary mortal form, how could she be sure he wouldn’t turn against them and side with Marvellas? Anything she told him would be compromised.

“We’re still figuring that out,” she said.

Nyte’s eyes narrowed, knowing she was withholding information. “I can feel your emotions, remember? I thought we were beginning to trust each other. I’m wounded.”

“You’re her son. Her blood. How can I be certain that won’t change your allegiance when you have the ability to speak to her?”

Impatience fell on his face. “There’s only one way to kill a God, so what is it you have of hers that can kill her?”

It wasn’t surprising he would know that.

“Maybe nothing, but if we lose the weapon to kill her, we know of something that can at least silence the power of a God.”

“Do you also know who will forfeit their life to use either weapon to bring her down?”

That slammed into Faythe. “Forfeit their life?”

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