Page 318 of A Flame of the Phoenix

Faythe turned, finding the Spirit of Souls with her creature, the Dresair, behind her. It hadn’t taken a mortal body yet, still standing unnaturally tall, with spindly black limbs and no face.

Marvellas said, “You should spend the last hours with your friends. The end is coming, and there is nothing you can do to stop it.”

“I can stop you,” Faythe hissed.

“You have tried many times. When will you give up?”

“Never.”

Marvellas barely displayed any emotion. Her gold eyes cast up over the dark beam behind Faythe that stabbed into the sky from Dakodas’s temple. Then she turned her head to glance far into the north horizon. Her brow flinched as her eyes searched.

“The Light from Aurialis’s temple should have activated too,” she muttered absentmindedly. Marvellas turned to her with accusing eyes. “What have you done to interfere?”

Faythe didn’t know what could have gone wrong in Marvellas’s plan, but by the Gods, was she glad something seemed to be missing from what she expected or needed to carry out the destruction of the world.

When Faythe didn’t answer, Marvellas continued to accuse and assess while stalking closer. Her anger returned, and Reylan shifted to place himself between them for first attack if necessary.

“Something is guarding Aurialis’s temple, isn’t it?”

Faythe was confused, but she didn’t let it show. “I won’t let you destroy this world just because you couldn’t have it.”

Her mind was reeling with what could possibly be interfering with the catastrophic connection Marvellas had tried to make between the temples. Marvellas believed it had to be their doing…but Faythe hadn’t done anything.

Then she realized.

“Marlowe.” Her friend’s name slipped from her mouth, and it was like she’d smiled into Faythe’s mind.

Jakon had buried her in the Eternal Woods, and Faythe had thought it a beautiful and fitting place. Yet she hadn’t considered Marlowe could have made sure somehow that Jakon would know to place her there, where her soul could protect the temple for this moment. To buy them time.

Marvellas’s eyes narrowed on her. Then they relaxed, as if the Spirit had figured it out too. “I see…” she said. “I always knew Marlowe Kilnight had such brilliant potential. Such a pity her life was taken so soon. And I truly am sorry that she will die a second time, never to be reborn again, for I have to eradicate her soul that lingers as an interference around that temple.”

Marlowe’s soul lived in the Eternal Woods. Faythe’s eyes watered, but her resolve hardened.

“I’m not letting you get away,” Faythe said—a declaration of defiance as she freed her blade.

She used Shadowporting to cross the distance, appearing right in front of Marvellas. Faythe swung Lumarias toward her neck, but her steel slammed into an arm of charcoal that was like hitting thick wood.

The Dresair hissed at her, disarming her since the blade was lodged in its arm. It pulled it free, throwing Lumarias out of reach.

Yet that had only been Faythe’s distraction.

Reylan was beside her, the Ember Sword plunged through the gut of the Dresair, and it screeched, piercing Faythe’s ears painfully, but she didn’t falter.

As the Dresair burst into flames, Faythe reached for Marvellas with her heart in her throat. Marvellas ripped her arm out of Faythe’s grip with a fierce cry, but it was too late…

Faythe had managed to secure the manacle. The other was in Faythe’s hand.

Just one more.

But magick slammed into her. She hadn’t realized Reylan was behind her until his arms encircled her body, and they were both flying back before crashing into hard stone.

Faythe wasn’t spared from the impact despite Reylan’s protection. They both groaned, peeling themselves off the ground before Marvellas could attack again.

She peered up to find her enemy, but Marvellas didn’t advance. The Dresair was nothing more than smoking ash at her feet. Marvellas held up her manacled wrist, staring at it with the most terror she’d ever seen the Spirit display. It clearly hadn’t smothered her power completely, with Faythe failing to clamp the second Aetherbond on her other wrist, but it had to have diminished her power by half at least.

“Where did you get these?” Marvellas asked in a ghostly breath. Long ago, she’d been a helpless slave, used for her blood for centuries by being bound in these. “What have you done?” she yelled, looking at Faythe, with the heat of the Nether blazing in her eyes.

Faythe stood with Reylan. She held the other manacle while he braced with the Ember Sword. With gold locked on gold, fire on fire, Faythe dared Marvellas to come closer.

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