Page 197 of A Flame of the Phoenix

Death said, “I’m going to show you some memories, Faythe Ashfyre. They don’t begin with you, but they have always been destined to end with you.”

Faythe fell to her knees, not entirely of her own conscious thought. Her hands fell into the shallow pool around her, and the reflection of her horrified expression changed. The water swirled, filling with color, starlight, and wonder, and she wanted to tear her sight away, but that wasn’t within her control anymore. The moving pictures hooked onto her, and she was compelled to watch the past of her world unfold.

Faythe saw the dawning of the world the seven Gods had created. Zaiana had told her their names before:Demetris, the God of Strength. Erosen, the God of Wisdom. Iyana, the Goddess of Knowledge. Helios, the God of Courage. Fedara, the Goddess of Resilience. Kitana, the Goddess of Darkness and Light. Lasenna, the Goddess of Power.

She watched the mortals they’d created in their image live their age, bear their children, and see through ages of peace. Faythe saw the age of demons, human-like beings with piercing red eyes, and the annihilation of them. She tumbled through the Dark Age led by Mordecai Vesaria and saw how the mighty continents of Ungardia and Salenhaven came together to stop him. Faythe got to see the fall of Marvellas to land, her tragic captivity, and her freedom.

In the mere blink of her eyes, Faythe had captured the beginning and the end of her world.

She couldn’t move. No mind should harbor this much knowledge, and Faythe didn’t know how hers would contain it.

“Fesia omarte, Fesia lasera.”Death spoke the old language Zaiana once had.

Fall one, fall all.

“You are the One, Faythe Ashfyre. Not just the Heir of Marvellas but the Heir of Lasenna. But without the others fulfilling their destiny, you will fall, and all will be lost for this world.”

Faythe’s mind began to recite her vow, because a part of her had already figured it out:

My name is Faythe Arrowood Ashfyre, soul-bonded to Reylan Arrowood Ashfyre. Daughter of Agalhor and Lilianna. Rightful Queen of Rhyenelle. I am Reylan’s strength. Nik’s wisdom, and Tauria’s resilience. Jakon’s courage, and Marlowe’s knowledge. I am not alone, and I will not die today.

Death said calmly, “There are infinite worlds much like yours. It is not personal.”

“You mean we’re disposable,” she snapped.

“All things must die. You are all but a blink of time, a grain of existence, to the expanse of all that is. The universe births new worlds, Gods create new systems, all in a never-ending search for something that cannot and will not ever exist—perfection.”

“Then let us be flawed.”

“That is not something we can accept. So we try again, and again. That is infinity. But your small world can be saved so life can be lived for many ages to come. A Godless world can survive.It is up to you now.”

“What if the Spirits win?”

“Then they win. My final interference was to awaken the mortal essence in the bloodlines of the seven who created it.”

“If you don’t care what happens to us, then why are you telling me this now? Why bring me here at all?”

“Because Gods are proud and do not like to be bested by each other. The Spirits were bestowed from my realm, and what they have done is an insult. Much as I would have liked for you to send them back to me, that is no longer a possibility now one of the ruins is broken. They are all cunning. I cannot hold you here any longer. You must go back.”

Before she could speak again, Faythe’s body seized.

With a long draw of breath, the vision around her collapsed. What was endless black above her started to lighten to a hue of navy and flood with glittering stars. For a second, the view brought her complete peace.

Pain started to creep back through her bones, but a wave over her soothed the sharpness. An amber hue danced against midnight, and Faythe remembered Atherius. She was helping her now. Healing her. Faythe’s arm reached until she felt something.

Someone.

Her head lolled, finding Reylan, and her whole world turned still.

Because his chest…it wasn’t rising.

And as she listened…his heart was silent.

“Reylan,” she said, pushing up and swaying with the dizziness, but she shook her head. “Wake up.”

Faythe got to her knees. Panic trembled her hands that rose over him, but she didn’t know what to do. She tore down the front of his shirt and saw the ghastly sight of the ruin still in him, but she only felt the echoing cries of its fading magic. It was black and crumbling within his flesh.

He needed Nerida. A healer.

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