Page 92 of Phoenix's Last Heist
Orion is already unstrapping the pack from the storage compartment, his movements confident and unhurried. The Solar Mother idol is tucked deep inside, swaddled in thick cloth, but even through the layers I swear I can feel its low, thrumming hum. It’s like a pulse…a heartbeat.
We don’t speak much as we make our way into the temple’s outer corridors—only the soft brush of our boots against cracked tile, the distant echo of a jungle bird’s cry, the sigh of leaves against stone. Orion leads the way, his hand hovering just above the moss-lined walls as if greeting his ancestors.
The path has changed since I was last here, even though it’s only been a couple months. Roots have widened fissures in the stone. The banthus tree I climbed to save my own ass has sent a fresh tangle of shoots through the ceiling. There’s a phantom ache in my side as if my body is remembering my fall last time, and I pay close attention to my steps this time around.
The interior of the temple smells like heat and time. Orion forges ahead, leading me through narrow passageways I was too hasty to miss before. They curve inward, drawing us past the inner courtyard and into a vast expanse of quiet that raises the hairs on my neck with a breath of familiarity.
The Chamber of the Early Sun is exactly as I remember—sanctified and still, the air so thick with reverence it practically buzzes. Light from the broken ceiling spears across the statue at the center, illuminating her outstretched arms. The priestess glows as if her own star lives inside her chest.
I feel Orion’s breath catch beside me. “She’s waiting.”
Together, we move toward her—careful to avoid the hollow ground I nearly fell through the first time. Orion steps onto the low crypt beside me, crouching down to unwrap the idol. He passes it to me with both hands, the look in his eyes solemn.
“Go on,” he says softly. “It should be you.”
The idol is warm against my palms, humming with the same power it always held. But this time, instead of greed or desperation, what pulses through me is…something close to awe. A fullness. A final note in a song I didn’t know I’d been humming.
I set it gently into the statue’s cupped hands and cross back to Orion’s open arms and waiting embrace.
A faint click echoes through the chamber, followed by a low tone—like the sound of a distant sigh carried on wind. Gold light seeps from the idol’s seams, spilling over the statue’s arms, swirling down to the floor. The whole room seems to exhale.
Then: silence.
And then?—
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
The voice crashes into the stillness like a fist—a brutal fist I know all too well. Orion jerks around, pushing me behind him instinctively.
Brill steps from the shadows between two pillars. His hair is slightly tangled, his rumpled coat hanging open, and in one hand he holds a plasma pistol. His eyes glow feral under the half-light of the chamber.
Shit. Shit fuck motherfucker.
“I have to admit, Lyra,” he drawls, stepping closer. “After all our years together, I didn’t peg you for a sentimental type.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I spit, heart pounding.Stars, why don’t I have a plasma pistol on me?“We’re just returning what doesn’t belong to us. Something you clearly don’t understand.”
“Oh, I understand plenty.” His smile is razor thin. “I understand that thing up there is worth more than your entire bloodline. And I understand that you just did all the hard work for me.”
He lifts the pistol. Orion shifts, blocking my body with his.
“I wouldn’t,” Orion growls, low and sharp. “This place isn’t just stone and statues. It’s protected. Sacred.”
Huh. That sounds…ominous.
“Protected by whom?” Brill scoffs. “You? The ghosts of your ancestors?Please.I’ll tell you what—why don’t you go meet them, and then let me know.”
He fires.
Orion tackles me, and the blast sears the air where my head was a second ago. We roll across the floor, the heat from the shot scalding close.
Brill advances, fast and brutal. Another shot, this time closer.Too close.The sound of it shatters against the temple walls, sending a flock of shrieking birds skyward from somewhere outside.
“Run!” Orion yells, and we dive in opposite directions. Brill swears, pivots toward me.
Perfect.
I scramble up the crypt, stumbling over slick moss.
