“We will feed Your followers, give strength to the weak. And when enemies dare to steal Your power, we will destroy them until they grow meek.”
The Eternal Fire flared upward, beating against the ceiling, and then plunged down toward the dais.
Ferma shot to her feet. Even the priests sucked in their breath, their chant faltering. Light pulsed like waves from the fire’s core, but neither Elena nor Leo yielded. The fire roared, enraged, its light searing the skin beneath Yassen’s eyelids, and still he kept his eyes on Elena. Her flickering form. He felt that if he took his eyes off her, she would vanish.
Suddenly, her shadow rose, and Elena emerged from the flames, coughing. She managed to stumble down the steps and lurch past the priests to the adjoining chamber. The high priestess continued to chant, but Yassen could sense her confusion in the inflection of her voice.
The flames growled, yet Leo remained.
“I should check on Elena.” Ferma began to rise, but Yassen held her back.
“She wouldn’t want you to.”
The Yumi slowly knelt again, and they both stared into the fire as it swooned to the rhythm of the chants. Slow and hypnotic. Yassen blinked, his head light. Slowly, the world began to ebb away. The priests’ song became a distant drone as shadows pressed along the corners of his eyes.
The fire reared up and swallowed him.
Heat sank into Yassen’s bones, but it did not suffocate him. Not this time.
As he stood within the fire, Yassen felt the pain in his arm drain away. The flames found the ache hidden deep in his heart. He saw the faces of his mother and father there, the faces of the boys he had befriended and lost in the Arohassin. He saw the suns of loneliness, of anger, of hate and misfortune. And he felt the fire cleanse the pain away. It washed him as if he were reborn. Soft and new, unknowing in the ways of men.
The flames parted to reveal the bottom of the pit. There, Yassen saw a dark red feather—a feather not of this world, ancient and pure. He felt it give the fire power. And he felt the feather run through him, pull him, call him to the deep darkness that lay beyond this world…
“Yassen!” Ferma squeezed his shoulder, and Yassen jolted up.
“Are you okay? You fainted,” she said. “And you look pale—I mean, paler than usual.”
Dazed, Yassen looked around the chamber. It was empty—only the Eternal Fire remained, sighing. The Ashanta ceremony must have calmed it.
“Where’s Elena?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“With the high priestess,” Ferma said with a small frown. “She almost made it.”
“And the king?”
“He is with her as well. He sat until the fire had calmed.” She hesitated. “Elena’s right. The king needs to teach her the way of Agneepath if she is to become queen.”
She’s learning on her own, he wanted to say but held his tongue. He had seen the dark patches of ash on Elena’s wrists in the past weeks; he could not bring himself to stop her. It was not his place. And yet… He wanted to warn her. Warn her of fire’s hunger, its white, raging pain.
“Maybe it’s a blessing that she can’t hold fire,” Yassen said before he could stop himself. “It’s a volatile power.”
Ferma shot him a look that made him instantly regret his words. “Maybe for us. But it is in her blood. The firewillchoose her.” She rose. “We should go meet the royal party.”
“I’ll join you in a moment,” he said. “I want to pray.”
Ferma regarded him with skepticism, her tawny eyes glowing in the light.
“I thought those in the Arohassin didn’t pray,” she said.
“I was Ravani before I joined the Arohassin,” he said, “and I’m Ravani still.”
Ferma studied him for a moment longer and then nodded. “Hurry. Before you change faith.”
He gave a small, rueful smile as the Spear disappeared down the dark corridor.
Slowly, Yassen walked up to the pit. The vision, or whatever it was, had felt so real. Was there truly the Phoenix’s feather at the bottom of the pit? Was that the source of the fire? Logic told him no, it was oil or whatever the priests used to feed the flames. It also told him to leave,now, but Yassen could not help himself.
He stepped closer.
