Page 134 of Cry of the Firebird

Anya walked into the ruins of the house and tried to breathe through the sudden pain in her chest. Vasilli had done an extraordinary job of destroying the place.

If it weren't for Yvan, she would have been in that fire. Dying out of sheer stupidity because she had thought Vasilli wasn't going to hurt her.

She suddenly wished Yvan and the firebird were there with her to tell her it would be okay again. That he would be able to keep her safe from his brother's wrath. Now it was the opposite with her wanting to protect him. Anya knew the only way to keep Yvan safe from Vasilli was to put the evil bastard in the ground.

Only the stone fireplace still stood, which surprised Anya the most. She remembered all the bizarre tokens of her family that had filled the home. Perhaps if she had known about her dormant magic, she could have seen the magical objects from the mundane.

"I can't even remember seeing the knife, Aramis," she said finally.

"If it's important to the ritual, it would have been hidden someplace where it would be safe from fire or anything else," Aramis reiterated.

"Then we are screwed because the house is wrecked. It could be at the hunting cabin, but I didn't see it there either."

Anya walked around the wreckage, occasionally recognizing objects in their burned and mutilated form. What she had left of the family jewelry had melted in one giant blob. A silver locket with Ilya's portrait painted in it was blackened and slightly bent but otherwise okay. She pocketed it as she thought about the vision she had of him.

Anya squatted down on the hearthstone of the fireplace and ran her fingers through the ash. The chimney had half-collapsed, but the mantelpiece was still intact. Her ashy fingers throbbed, and her dormant magic sparked in her veins and danced across the stone.

"What did you just do? I can feel your magic," Aramis asked in a terse whisper.

"I don't know. There's something here… I don't know… It's making it pulse." She got back to her feet and ran her hands along the top of the mantelpiece, magic tingling in her fingertips again.

Anya ran her hands over the fireplace until they stopped on a brick in the center of the mantel. The concrete seal around it was cracked and loose, so she grabbed at it with her fingers and pulled it out of place.

"I found something!" she said, and Aramis hurried to her side.

Anya lifted the brick the rest of the way out and flipped it over. It was hollowed out, and inside of it was a bundle wrapped in oiled leather.

"It would be the safest place if you wanted to keep something hidden. The protection spell was shielding it from me, but it must have recognized you through your magic," Aramis said, touching the mantle.

Anya unwrapped the leather, and Ilya's knife tumbled into her hand. The snarling bear looked up at her expectantly. Even with her magic dulled down, it tingled in her hands with power. Anya swayed as the chant of voices rose up in her head and her mouth filled with ash.

"We need to go. Your magic is spiking again," Aramis said urgently as he steadied her. Anya wrapped the knife quickly and climbed out of the wreckage. Still holding her hand tightly, they ran across the fields towards the cover of the forest.

Anya reached the tree line and sagged over her knees. "Oh god, Aramis, the drums, the blood… It's calling me." She stepped back towards the fields, but Aramis pulled her back and hung onto her until she stopped struggling.

"Fight it, Anya! The gate is trying to link with you. Touching the knife must have made it worse," he said, letting his power wash over her until she could think straight again. "We have to keep moving."

Aramis held tightly to her hand as they jogged through the forest. The gate called to her again, and Anya slid in the leaves to look behind her. Men in tactical gear moving through the trees thirty meters behind them.

"Aramis…"

"I know. I see them too. When they make their move, I want you to run as hard and as fast as you can. Get back to the tavern. I'll hold them off."

"Why aren't they shooting at us?" Anya asked.

"They need us alive, that's why," he muttered and pulled out his long knife.

There were five of them, and they attacked from all sides. Aramis's knife was moving at the same time, taking down one in the first sweep. He was mesmerizing as he ducked their blows, moving in the air around the bodies, slashing and lunging, dancing to some beautiful music only he could hear.

"Go, Anya!" he shouted, shocking her out of her freeze.

Anya only got a few meters when another man appeared in front of her.

"The witch," he spat, pointing a gun at her. "I don't want to shoot you, girl, so do as I say and come quietly."

Anya's magic surged, turning her blood to fire, and she gave herself over to it. The gun glowed bright red, and the man dropped it with a startled yelp. He swore angrily and went for her, hands outstretched like claws.

Anya lifted her hand, and black ash burst out of his mouth as he collapsed, crying out as his organs burned up inside of him. A shout behind her made her turn to where three men were attacking Aramis at once, the others already fallen to his blade. She raised her hand again, and Aramis spotted her.

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