A woman clutches her baby to her chest as she runs past. The infant’s cries pierce through the roar of flames, through the screams, through the sound of my heart shattering.
“More,” Aleksander commands from behind me. “Burn it all.”
My body responds without my permission. “Emberdione, continue.”
The Phoenix lets out a mournful cry before diving toward the center of the village. Her wings spread wide, casting crimsonshadows across the ground. Where those shadows touch, fire blooms.
The heat blisters my skin, but I can’t move. Can’t look away. Can’t stop the destruction pouring from my hands, from my Phoenix, from this cursed magic.
Through the flames, I spot the village elder. He stands in his doorway, head held high as fire consumes everything around him. His eyes meet mine across the chaos, and I see no fear there. Only sadness. Only pity.
For me.
I don’t deserve his pity. I deserve his hatred. His curse. His condemnation.
But he simply nods once before Emberdione’s next wave of flames swallows him whole.
The Phoenix lands beside me and waits for my next directive. I have none to give.
“Enough. You may go,” I manage to choke out.
Her wings fold, and she dissipates into a swirl of glowing embers.
Aleksander mounts his horse, and I follow, pulling myself up into my mare’s saddle.
I want to scream at him, to claw at his smug face, but I don’t.
What good would it do?
It would change nothing!
“Come,” he orders.
I turn my horse, following his lead, and as we leave the scorched village behind, I look back. Embers rise into the sky, carried by the wind like silent cries for mercy that were never granted.
Twenty of the Watchers remain behind, rounding up the surviving women and children. They herd them like cattle, prodding them with the butts of their spears and forcing them to march behind us.
Bile rises in my throat as a Watcher strikes a woman who stumbles, her child clinging to her skirts. The little one wails, and the sound pierces through me.
I did this.
I am the monster who unleashed destruction upon these innocent people. Their blood stains my hands, no matter how much I wish I could wash it away.
I glance at Aleksander, riding tall and proud at the head of our macabre procession. Does he feel no remorse? No flicker of guilt for the lives he’s destroyed?
Of course not. He’s too busy reveling in his victory, in the power he wields over me and everyone else.
Curse him!
I try to block out the sobs and whimpers trailing behind us, but it’s impossible. They seep into my bones, carving out a crater where my heart used to be.
What have I done?
I want to scream, to rage against the injustice of it all, but I remain silent.
Even as the village fades into the distance, the stench of smoke and death still clings to my skin.
Forgive me.
