Page 300 of A Flame of the Phoenix

She wandered around the room, her reflection casting in a hundred directions.

Until Tarly turned rigid, staring across into Tauria’s eyes. The reflection smiled, chilling him to his core.

“Tauria,” he whispered.

She turned to him, and he blinked. The reflection was back to following her. He shook his head, wondering if he’d imagined it in his fear.

Nerida picked up the box. “We need to get it to Faythe for her blood to confirm it’s inside.”

Tarly didn’t want to spend a second longer here than necessary. He headed for the break in the wall with her.

“Wait,” Nyte said, facing the way out with his back to them. “Did this veil lock you in here the last time you visited?”

He couldn’t see it at first glance, but now, enlightened, he detected the faint shimmer over the exit.

“No,” Nik answered with a note of dread.

“She promised to free me if I helped her,” Tauria said.

They all turned to her, confused. Even more perplexing was Tauria’s shocked expression. Her eyes darted over the mirrors.

Tarly saw it again. The single reflection that didn’t copy her movement but had stolen her image and voice. The concept was eerily terrifying.

“Take my form instead to speak to us,” Nik demanded.

The Dresair laughed haughtily, disappearing from a mirror above to their left and taking on Tauria’s image in one closer to their right when it next answered.

“That wouldn’t be as fun.”

“Marvellas was here,” the real Tauria said.

The curve of the Dresair’s mouth was so wicked and amused, so wrong to witness on Tauria’s gentle face.

“She still is,” said the Dresair.

“Rainyte.” Marvellas’s voice was but a quiet plea.

Nyte hadn’t moved. Just beyond the exit now stood Marvellas.

“Mother,” he answered, devoid of any sentimental feeling in the word.

The Spirit felt his coldness, yielding a mild wince.

Nyte said, “Stop this senseless war. It is over for you.”

There was something different about Marvellas now… His spike of terror at first seeing her dwindled the longer he watched her, seeing nothing but a vulnerable soul so unlike one who had started a great war and harbored so much power.

Marvellas lifted a hand to the veil at the same height as Nyte’s face. All Tarly could feel was tragedy for her. He didn’t want to, but he did.

“I’m sorry all you saw of me was this. When I wanted to be good…I wanted to be good for you. Then you were taken from me.”

Nyte stepped back, and Tarly couldn’t see his face to read the emotions that had to be tearing him apart inside even if his composure was steel. Parents were a fragile wound in all. For good, for bad, they were the origins of their existence, and that was an attachment that could never be severed completely.

“You don’t have to hurt anymore,” Nyte said, “if you just surrender.”

“I have a duty I must see through.”

“Ending the world isn’t your duty—it’s a tragic escape from all you failed to achieve. Let it be flawed. Let it be Godless.”

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