Page 216 of A Flame of the Phoenix

Though not to her. This world was hers, and she was not giving up on it while she had her friends to protect.

“Fall one, fall all,” Faythe choked, returning to her own time and body with every inhale that defused the currents of power she’d connected to within Aurialis’s symbol. “Did I fail?”

More answerless questions. No one was coming to liberate her torment.

All she could do was remember her destiny. Something Marlowe believed in so powerfully she’d let it guide them all. The vicious hands of war spared no pure heart, and when it came to eradicating her enemies, all who stood in her way, Faythe gave hers over to the unfeeling dark.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Faythe

Leaving the Eternal Woods, it took everything in her not to mount Atherius, whom she passed while heading into town. Jakon said she needed to go to the mill, and though she couldn’t fathom why, she would do anything he asked without question.

She had to pause for a moment before the building she hardly recognized anymore. The structure was a corpse of the joyous place she’d known in childhood. The mill didn’t turn anymore—the gathered green algae indicated it hadn’t in a long time. Nature had staked its claim on the abandoned home. Vines gripped the mortar like a hand ready to drag it under the soil for burial.

Faythe had come here so many times with her mother, then continued to visit and deliver pastries to Mrs. Green while visiting her friend Reuben. She’d first crossed paths with Nik right in this spot, not knowing then, on that seemingly ordinary day, her life would change forever.

The door was already open, and the floorboard groaned louder than ever with her intrusion into the eerie space. Faythe wanted to retreat the moment she took her first steps inside, but she had to discover what Jakon wanted her to see.

Making her way through the familiar hall, she rounded into the long-abandoned kitchen, stripped of all color and joy, but still she could hear the ghost of Mrs. Green’s cheerful greeting. Could scent from memory the glorious warm pies Faythe would bring, and how the mill owner wouldn’t waste a moment to open them and invite Faythe in for a slice. She never refused.

Magick pricked her skin and brought heat to her palms when she first detected she wasn’t alone. Following the first shuffle that gave them away, Faythe tentatively rounded the table, spying the edge of a body huddled behind the tall cabinet.

“Reuben?” Faythe didn’t expect to see him despite this being his former home.

So many conflicted emotions battered her.

The last she’d encountered him, he’d driven a Magestone blade into her shoulder to weaken her before an ambush from the enemy. Reuben’s mind had been torn and tortured so much by Marvellas that his objective of collecting the Light Temple Ruin Faythe possessed had become his sole purpose.

The worst part was…Faythe blamed herself for the fate that had befallen him. It had been her idea to send him across the sea to Lakelaria as the only hope of escape from his crime of spying for Valgard. Even that had been a lie. Reuben was nothing more than a victim of powerful people.

Right now, he appeared no more than a terrified, quivering dog. Faythe couldn’t surface an inkling of anger for what he’d done. Instead she pitied the broken sight of him.

“What are you doing here?” Faythe asked, gentle but not kind.

His tired, frightened gaze slipped up to her. Reuben sat with his knees and arms tucked up to his chest, shaking violently. Faythe sighed, marching into the adjoining living area and swiping a dusty blanket from the sofa. She crouched, slinging it around him. It did nothing to stop his tremors. She didn’t think were only from the cold.

“I-I’m so-so sorry-sorry, Fay-faythe.”

His stammer was so bad he could hardly form words.

Faythe cupped his cheek. “I am too, Reuben. You didn’t deserve this.” She swiped the tear that fell down his cheek.

“C-can you make-make it st-stop? Pl-please.”

She leaned back with the gravity of what he was asking. “This doesn’t have to be the end for you,” she said.

All Reuben had done had been orchestrated by Marvellas. She harbored no true resentment toward Reuben and certainly didn’t want him dead. She’d lost too many people already.

“The claw-claws and the voi-voices, they don’t-don’t stop,” he croaked.

Faythe sat beside him. Tentatively, she slipped her arm behind him and coaxed his head onto her shoulder, where she held it. Carefully, Faythe entered his mind, and she began to shake too. Her eyes flooded from so much torment and shredded thoughts that it was all she could see. There was no light; nothing of hope to search for. Marvellas had stripped away anything warm or joyous to keep him afraid.

Reuben whispered, “I don’t want to-to live like this.”

Tears fell from her eyes as Faythe tried desperately to find a way to heal all that was torn apart in his mind. She didn’t know how to begin repairing the damage that had been done. She tried to sew the tears and tame the shadows. Faythe tried to hush some of the vicious whispers plaguing him and relieve some of the poison running through his thoughts, but it was too much, the damage too permanent.

He was suffering so miserably and painfully every second that Faythe understood his request now.

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