The Phoenix Priest (The Blood and Water Saga Book 2) by Cassidy Clarke

Author:Cassidy Clarke [Clarke, Cassidy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Manuscript Template
Publisher: Cassidy Clarke
Published: 2022-04-21T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 37

ELIAS

All Elias knew was fire.

Crimson and sapphire and persimmon and gold. Smoke and heat and pain and fury, endless and endless, a tarlike anger that just kept pouring and pouring and pouring.

The fire was flooding out of him, and it would not stop.

Wave after wave of heady rage melted his bones down to molten ore and set his blood to boiling. Breath after breath of thick smoke dragged into his chest, but his lungs welcomed it—almost craved it, as if it was pure as the air that trailed behind a Nyxian blizzard.

He burned and he burned and he burned.

No weeping. No weakness. The fire scorched away all chaff, all dross.

Make sure that the truth of you can stand the test of flame.

Well, here was the truth of him: nothing left but this. Rage and ruin. Wretched and wrong.

He burned and he burned and he burned.

Somewhere past the inferno, he thought he heard the faintest notes of that symphony beyond, the cries and shouts of his friends telling him to stop. You can stop, you can stop, Elias it’s over you can stop—

It was only then that he realized he was wrong: he wasn’t being consumed by the fire.

No. He was the fire.

Flame surged endlessly from his hands—not just his hands. His mouth was still open, loosing an unending shout, and fire flowed out after it like a howling wind.

Firebreather, whispered a voice he only barely recognized, satisfaction coating the word in saccharine syrup.

Pyromancy.

A shocked hiccup brought the fire in his throat to a sputtering halt, spurring a fit of horrid coughing. Just as quickly as the fire ignited, it extinguished, leaving him standing but shaking, hands splayed in front of him, ragged gasps sending splintering pain through his chest.

He blinked his dry, aching eyes to find nothing left of the automaton but a half-melted lump of superheated steel.

Soot coated his outstretched hands, the taste of ash gritty and unpleasant on his tongue. And as he stepped back from the mangled automaton, the world swaying like he’d climbed atop a rocking chair, he suddenly felt horribly, horribly cold.

The last thing he saw before blessed blackness took over was Kallias finally breaking free from the Artemisian guards and running for him, his lips forming Elias’s name as Elias’s knees slammed into the stone with a sharp, startling crack.

For the first time since he’d looked into a goddess’s golden eyes, he did not dream.

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