YASSEN
A sadness resides deep within these walls. A hollow truth made more crude as the centuries pass. When discovered, it shall chase away one’s peace, and their life shall never be the same.
—fromThe Prophecy of the Phoenix, transcribed into written word by the first priests of the Fire Order
Yassen blinked sleep from his eyes and glanced across the hoverpod.
Up front, by the curved windows, Elena stood with Samson. She was dressed in her gold ceremonial garb, a long lehenga and embroidered blouse. The thin sunrays that managed to peek through the heavy clouds highlighted the pearls woven in the shape of lilies adorning her hair. Samson said something that made her laugh, leaned closer, and whispered something into her ear. His hand found hers. Yassen turned away.
The mountain seemed to rise as they approached, and thick trees older than the kingdom itself reached up to greet them. The hoverpod skimmed over their boughs. Yassen remembered watching the forest as a child when he visited the temple with his mother. How it had amazed him to know that something so lush and beautiful lay across the desert.
The hoverpod descended and docked on the stone ledge beneath the stairs. As they walked out, Yassen breathed in clean mountain air… and something more acrid. He stopped, unease prickling his skin. He could recognize the smell of burnt flesh from anywhere.
Overhead, smoke from the Eternal Fire curled up to meet the grey heavens. His arm ached. The king’s guards lined the staircase, and Yassen noted frayed sleeves, rumpled jackets, and smeared drops of blood on their boots, not yet wiped away. A struggle had happened here.
The high priestess and the king came to greet them at the landing. If there had been an attack, they gave no sign of it. Elena went to them with Samson by her side, but when Yassen followed, Ferma grabbed his arm. He tried not to wince as she pulled him aside.
“The king asked me to stay after the ceremony,” the Spear said. “You’ll have to escort the princess to Rani for the Birdsong festivities, and then back to Palace Hill. I’ll send more guards for extra security.” Her nails dug into his sleeve. “Watch the sands, Yassen. You’ll have to keep a close eye on Elena.”
She released his arm. Yassen straightened his sleeve, hiding the mark on his wrist. There was a strangeness in Ferma’s voice, a wild look in her eye. And then he understood.
I’ve never escorted Elena by myself before, he thought.Of course, she’s worried.
“I’m taloned, Ferma. Don’t worry.”
They returned to the others. The high priestess held out a branch of red fyerian flowers and dusted both Elena’s and the king’s shoulders. After a moment’s pause, she did the same to Samson.
“Come,” she said, “the Holy Bird awaits.”
As she pulled her hand back, Yassen spotted something, a dark mark on her wrist, but Saayna folded her hands into her robes and led them into the temple.
Yassen could hear the fire before he saw it. It sounded like a battlefield with the snaps and pops of pulse fire. They turned the corner, and there it was, roaring and lashing at the domed ceiling, its heat hitting Yassen square in the chest.
He backed into the wall, clutching his right arm. The pain returned with a vengeance, as if a dozen needles pierced his skin.
“Are you all right?” Ferma asked.
Yassen nodded. Smoke filtered out of the room through the latticed ceiling, but he still found it hard to breathe. The fire swelled, red forking tongues licking the air. He could barely see the raised dais within its center.
“Mother’s Gold,” he whispered. “How is Elena supposed to sit in there?”
Leo bowed to the Eternal Fire, and then he took Elena’s hand. Together, they walked up the stone steps. The fire swallowed them immediately, but Yassen could see their shadows dancing along the dais.
The high priestess waved her hand, and the priests seated themselves in a semicircle around the pit. Arish and Samson joined them. As Samson leaned toward the fire, Yassen recognized the look in his friend’s eyes. It was the expression of a man who saw power and gave himself willingly to it.
Another sharp jolt of pain shot up his arm, and Yassen gripped the stone wall. The Eternal Fire hissed and lengthened. For a moment, the flames parted, and Yassen saw Elena looking straight at him.
“Kneel,” Ferma whispered.
Yassen sank to his knees as the priests began to chant. The fire crackled, but as their voices rose, it wavered. Listened. The flames withdrew, caving inward as the high priestess stepped back.
He could no longer see Elena.
The priests chanted and threw white ash into the pit. The air grew thick with smoke and incense. Yassen licked his lips, his mouth dry.
“O Bearer of Hope, we are Your servants,” the high priestess sang. Her voice was clear and beautiful, rising over the din. “We will guard Your interests, protect Your lands. We will walk the Agneepath and find succor at its end.”
The high priestess threw dried marigold petals into the pit, and the Eternal Fire soared up like the wings of a bird, golden and free. Yassen spotted Elena on the dais, her brow furrowed and her mouth set in a grim line. Leo sat calmly beside her, his face stoic and cool.
