“What’s in there?” asks Fushi. And then I see the reason he helped us—he wants to know the secret. That’s the only reason he’s here. And once he finds out…
I look at Seth, hoping he’s reaching the same realization.
“Show us,” says Seth, pointing his sword at Hypatia.
Godsdammit, Seth. “What are you doing?” I ask him through gritted teeth.
“If she destroys whatever is in that room, Selara will starve. Unless you’re suddenlyforthe war in Brakkar.”
Fuck. He’s right. “Hypatia, please. I understand you’re angry, and I’m sure you have a good reason, but Selara needs the gold alchemy, at least right now. Is there any way we can convince you?”
She shakes her head sadly. “I’m sorry. You can’t enter without me, and I won’t let you stop me from doing what needs to be done.”
She reaches for a vial on her belt, but her hand is caught by Fushi. “It’s nothing personal, Hypatia. You were a good mentor to me.” He puts a hand around her throat and forces her to the door lock. “Open it.”
“Stop!” I yell, but Seth holds me back from Fushi. “Let me go!” I scream at Seth, but he holds onto me tightly.
“You know this is what needs to be done,” he mutters so that only I can hear him. “He’s not going to kill her until she isn’t any use to him. We can overpower him then.”
Hypatia, gasping for air, raises her shaking pendant to the lock. “No. I won’t. I won’t—” she chokes as Fushi forces her finger onto the blade, opening the door with her blood.
It’s dark as we step into the final chamber. “There’s a candle there,” I tell Seth, and he lights it so he can see.
The room is small, windowless, and nearly empty. The candlestick sits on the sole desk, an ordinary book lying on its surface with a quill and ink nearby. It’s a log of the days of the week in a compact table. Each day is followed by an “X.” I flip through the pages and realize it goes back decades, every day marked all the way up to yesterday.
A fluttering sound comes from across the room. I turn to look at the only other thing in the space: a large, gilded cage. Inside it, sitting on a perch, is an eagle, its wings flapping and then stilling as it grooms its feathers.
No, it’s not an eagle, I realize as I approach. It’s roughly the same size, but its feathers are a deep red, the tips barred with gold, and there’s a plume at the back of its head that doesn’t look like any eagle I’ve ever seen. The bottom of the cage is filled with some kind of white powder.
“A phoenix,” says Fushi, eyeing it with predatory focus. “I suppose they weren’t all transformed into cypress trees then, after all.” He keeps Hypatia restrained, nudging her in the back. “Explain how it works if you want to live.”
She hesitates, but as he reaches for his blade, she slips her hand into the bottom of the cage, withdrawing some of the powder.
“This is the white tincture,” she says. “The end product of the phoenix cypress ash refinement. On its own, it’s highly valuable. It purifies lead into silver.”
“And the final stage?”
Hypatia gestures to her belt, allowing Fushi to retrieve an ornate knife with a mother-of-pearl handle. She opens the cage, making gentle cooing sounds at the bird. It nuzzles against her outstretched hand, reminding me of Kira.
It’s a beautiful thing. Wild and yet gentle, looking into its golden eyes fills me with a sadness I don’t understand.
Somewhere deep in my chest, my magic stirs. It doesn’t feel like my own shadows. It feels like the ancient power we awakened.
It feels like Ronan.
The part of him that exists in me responds to something in the phoenix, reaching for it. I know I ought to fight it; this could be connected to the prophecy somehow.
But I don’t want to fight it.
It feels like sunlight and the warmth of a summer day. It feels like a campfire at night in the woods. It feels like spring and renewal.
I let my magic reach out to it. It’s invisible, the thread that flows between us, but I can feel it. And so can the phoenix. It lifts its head, meeting my eyes—
And then Hypatia snatches the knife from Fushi and slices through its throat.
“What did you do?” I scream, rattling the cage as Fushi takes the knife back from her, holding it out to her in warning.
The phoenix panics, its wings flapping wildly, thrashing against the bars, but it’s too late. Crimson blood pours out of it, staining the ash beneath a bright, vivid red. Hypatia directs Fushi to wipe the blade into the ash pile, stirring the blood. It spreads unnaturally, leaving none of the ash untouched.
