Page 125 of An Archer's Reckoning

At the last moment, Irina threw herself to the stones of the circle.

A massiveclapechoed as Órla’s talons snapped closed.

Irina had escaped her grasp. She rose to her feet and screamed curses toward the sky, daring the Phoenix to return and fight.

Órla ignored her cries.

Through Órla’s eyes, I watched as Irina ducked in time to save her wretched life, but the jeweled crown was hooked on a sharp claw and rose as the Phoenix ascended once more.

The glint of sunlight against gold widened Irina’s eyes. She clawed her head with both hands and roared at the sky as understanding flooded through her.

A tidal wave of uncontrolled power and emotion blasted outward as she drew every drop of magic the river below would offer. The tower strained and groaned, but she pulled more. Soldiers and Mages, once transfixed by the spectacle, fell to the ground or turned away as the tower became a beacon of writhing heat and light.

The ancient, mystical circle maintained by a thousand years of Mages cracked, and the last restraining hold on the river’s rage gave way. A blinding pillar of flame burst from the tower’s peak and hurtled through the sky, slamming directly into Órla’s golden breast.

The firmament exploded in dazzling waves that could be seen a hundred leagues away.

“ORLA!” I screamed as lancing pain seared my soul where Órla lived within.

No longer bound by crown or circle, Irina’s spirit fled Isabel’s body. The ancient queen’s ethereal form hesitated a moment, a mocking smile across her face, before soaring into the sky toward the mountains.

Her Vessel, now at the mercy of magic’s ire, melted as a candle’s wax beneath a flame.

I heard the scream a split second before the explosion.

The top half of the tower shattered and flew.

Men screamed and panicked and ran.

The tower’s base melted at the magical river’s touch, and silvery lava clawed hungrily at the ground around it.

I squinted toward the sky.

The Phoenix no longer soared above.

I couldn't sense Órla.

Her magic was a whisper.

Her presence a feather’s caress.

“Órla, are you there? Órla, answer me. Please . . . say something!”I screamed to the sky, “ÓRLA!”

She did not reply.

Spirits, please, save her. Please.

Stones continued to fall.

My magic waned.

Desolate and spent, I somehow found a last reserve and shielded myself from a falling stone. It bounded from my shieldand crushed a soldier some paces away. I stood on stubborn legs and hobbled away.

When my legs could carry me no further, I fell to the ground at the bank of the river that ran from the Silver Mountains through the city’s center. I splashed my face, hoping the icy water would grant me some measure of clarity and strength, then lost myself for a moment watching the trickling, even as the world fell around me.

Memories flooded my mind.

My mother’s smile.

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