The fire rose higher, devouring that escape route and locking her within. Running would send her straight into turmoil.
“Never mind,” I coughed out. “You’re going to have to jump!”
The woman flashed me wide, fear-stricken eyes, but she assessed Sapphire. And finally, she nodded, long, teardrop earrings swaying against her olive skin. Her dark hair was knotted on her head, silver bangles reflecting the fire surrounding her and casting flames and shadow against her skin, giving her an ethereal appearance. Like she was from another realm entirely.
She gathered her flowing black dress, tucking the end of the skirt into the belt around her waist. Then, she scaled the half-wall.
“Watch your left foot!” I yelled, voice buried in the crackling flames. Her eyes lifted and I gestured to the portion of the wooden barrier that was crumbling, right where she’d been about to step.
Biting her lips, she nodded again.
Flames licked across the ground between where Sapphire hovered, and the fruit stand burned. We could fly closer, but we’d only have one second. It would have to be timed precisely, and maybe…
I pulled on the threads of seraph power within me that sparked like fire. A cleansing and an awakening, ash turned toruined promise. I channeled every poetic thought of flames as Ptholenix had taught me and studied the wavering streaks.
They’re no more powerful than I am, I told myself.I am fire and storms, tempests and fates. I command the might of seven Angels as one, and they all bow to me.
The flames were strong, tugging back against my magic, and I had a sick feeling the Firebird himself was responsible for these, based on their durability. So, I latched onto the piece of him that existed in me and let it meet its source.
As I exhaled, I envisioned light folding as a flame danced. Reds and oranges fading to ash. I fed seraph power into Ptholenix’s particular brand of magic within me, but his fire was strong—unbelievably so. Much more powerful than I’d ever thought of the Angels. It pushed back against me, wanting to roar.
I gritted my teeth, sweat rolling down my temples. The fire took out more structures, wooden beams splintering and collapsing around us. Soot swirled.
And with a ferocious burst, I directed my seraph power to wrap around the Bodymelder Prime Warrior’s magic. To dance with his flames and command them.
Why is Bodymelder magic demonstrated by flames?
It is similar to how Bodymelders pull at the threads of one’s being to heal maladies,the Angel had explained.
It was more than simple fire. It was a web of intricate power. And slowly, I coiled mine around it. I claimed control of each drop and peeled it back. Siphoned the strength of those flames into the heart of my magic. Heat melted across my skin, soot coating me, my pegasus, and the woman waiting for us.
Just before where she clung to a post, the wall of fire parted.
The woman’s eyes met mine, and I nodded. I gripped Sapphire’s mane, legs squeezing tight. And with a preternatural grace, the woman leapt.
Sapphire swept by, the tips of her white feathered wings grazing the curling edges of the flames, oranges and scarlets reflecting against the snowy surface. The woman’s weight landed squarely behind me on my pegasus as we climbed higher in the sky, leaving the burning market behind.
But right as I gasped down clean air, a hand latched around my throat, and a cruel, otherworldly voice whispered in my ear, “You will not fly away this time, little seraph.”
A sharp pain sliced through the top of my wing. My scream was lost to the battles, and warmth poured over the feathers. Sapphire whinnied with my agony, her flight speeding up as she tried to get us to safety.
The woman’s face came into my peripheral view, and her smile—she had lost all of the hesitant mask she’d donned below. Now, her face gleamed with triumph. And there was something else in her eyes—something that told me this was no warrior I’d just saved.
“Who—” I gasped over the shooting bolt that ricocheted along my wing. She’dstabbedme. “Who—are you?”
My head was heavy, limbs leaden.
“Your downfall,” she simpered.
“You’re not a gorgon,” I choked out. No, this woman had not been in Echnid’s lap back in Damenal, nor did she wear one of those pristine white gowns that marked them.
“Born of one” was all she said.
“Demigods,” I wheezed.
And with a smug smirk, she threw herself backward off Sapphire.
“NO!” I screamed, every ounce of the agony shooting through my wing poured into that word.
