Page 132 of Prince of the Phantom Sky

What just happened?” Kora trembled beneath Raiden, sand crusting her wavy hair as drops of sea water dripped from her lashes. Gods damn, she was beautiful.

The phantoms materialised next, the water ferret landing on Kora’s chest. She screamed as it squealed in delight. The steel eagle—the one Raiden felt strangely connected to—soared overhead. The fiery fox burrowed into the sand a few feet away, dousing its flaming exterior as it shut its coal-like eyes. The stag stared down at Raiden. He was strange, almost deathly, rather than the vibrancy Kaiah had been depicted as. Dying roots snaked around his body, and he laid down beside the fox, his head hovering over the terracotta fur.

Very strange.

“You just spirited.” Raiden gently petted the ferret, before pulling Kora to her feet. “It’s an extremely rare gift.”

“Spirited? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Kora winced, clutching at her chest. “My heart is on fire!”

“It takes a huge toll on your magic.” Raiden wrapped a cool current of air around her to soothe her flushed skin. “No mage has been known to master spiriting. It was something only the gods had been able to do—and their phantoms.”

Kora paused rubbing her chest. “What are you saying?”

“You might just be the most powerful mage to ever exist, more so than Aryn, and my father.” He attempted speaking casually, but his words choked. Half elemental, half divine, and can spirit. Kora Cadell was something else entirely. White light had flared before she spirited by accident, meaning it could be linked to her divine powers. The full extent of a divine’s magic was unknown, many lost to the frivolous faction wars, or the Staghart’s slaughter.

“No . . . I . . . I can barely wield anymore!” Kora spluttered, her round eyes widening.

“You will in time. You’re getting stronger again already. The light of your divine power is drawing the phantoms in.”

“Because you drugged me! Because Aryn is here with us! Without iriweed, or a velesma, or a gods-damned fucking male I’m tied to, I’m powerless.” Kora hacked a cough, her neck burning red, spreading from her chest.

“You’re never powerless. Let me get you inside, your body is in overdrive.” Raiden guided Kora back to her chambers, keenly aware of the phantoms tracking his every move.

As they reached the stairs, her limbs became heavy, her movements sluggish as the fatigue of wielding too much consumed her body. Raiden could see the signs—he’d experienced them before briefly. Thankfully, her nose wasn’t bleeding. The ferret—Cadence—followed their every move, even insisting on joining Kora in her bed. Luckily, her liquid body didn’t dampen the sheets.

“Are you floating away still?” Kora mumbled as Raiden pulled the white sheets over her, tucking in the sides gently. Cadence nuzzled into the spare pillow, a tiny squealing yawn erupting from her small jaws.

“No, Huntress. Not anymore.” Raiden brushed her hair back as her dazzling eyes fluttered shut.

Kora slept through the entire night, and hadn’t arisen in the morning, so Raiden took the opportunity to catch up on his personal research. The midnight-bound tome he’d retrieved from the archive remained open on Kora’s claimed study table, and he quickly scanned the pages once again, his patience thinning.

Barron had to be using something in that armour to deflect magic. With no way for Leto to reach Skybell on his travels, Raiden needed to use every opportunity to find out for himself. He’d checked every book on magic and spells, every article on defensive runes, every single fable on armour and weaponry. But nothing gave any answers. The very history they needed had vanished. Wiped away along with the rest of the islands.

Zephyr’s words floated through Raiden’s mind before his departure.

He claimed he’d fled to the western side to inspect the passageways to the Infernal Highland. Zephyr had mentioned about potential raids, concerned that, with the Mist thinning, Talmon may try to attack from their undefended side. Nothing lay beyond the Horrow Mountains except forests and dangerous ridges and peaks. All Galenites resided on the east side.

But Aerion’s theory churned his gut. Had it been a ruse? Was Zephyr out there, protecting the west from attack?

“I’ve never seen you read so much.” Aerion silently passed behind Raiden.

“Dire times call for dire actions.”

“Did something happen last night? Aryn had a weird . . . episode.” Aerion halted on the other side of the table, nursing a steaming cup of herbal tea.

“What do you mean?”

“He said he had this burning in his chest, and then his body lit up. Like a fucking candle.” Aerion raised a grey brow.

“There’s been some developments with Kora’s power, it’s all under control,” Raiden strained. He wasn’t sure whether to share about the phantoms. It was near-impossible. It meant Kora resided beyond their level of power, in the realm of gods.

Which made her a target. A prize. Was that why Barron was so obsessed with her? Did he already know of her potential? A protective streak surged, consuming Raiden, tightening every fibre of him until his power threatened to snap.

“Well, make sure it is. I don’t want another short-lived relationship.” Aerion’s stare hardened as he turned to leave.

“Are you both okay now?” Raiden grabbed his arm gently, sincerity bleeding through. Aerion’s suffering had been one of the most painful things about the Mist. His love for Aryn was intense, mighty. Their separation had nearly killed him.

Raiden had kept Aryn’s abandonment a secret. Another reason he still found the archer frustrating. Raiden knew telling Aerion the truth of what happened ten years ago would break him. That Aryn thought leaving was better, safer, for whatever reason. And when the Mist appeared . . . Aerion had no idea whether he still lived, or perished.