Page 91 of Shrine of Fire

“Life isn’t fair,” I snorted. “I’m sure you noticed that, even being a big all-powerful spirit.”

The heat of spirit magic coming off the phoenix coiled inside me. But I wasn’t here to do more than see Nova through this safely. It was bad enough that I fantasied about Hashir and Nova. This was too many other people to consider.

“I want you to make me a promise.” Kalahar looked at me. “We will prevail over the spirit. But should I perish in that fight, I want you to be there with her. Until I return.”

I scowled. “Hardly fair.”

“Your spirit is broken, but it will heal.” He looked at me in challenge. “The others don’t want to push you because they see how reserved you are. But this same behavior has kept Nova from allowing herself to truly feel.”

“I told her,” I snapped. “I told her right from the start that we were on borrowed time.”

“That was your first mistake.”

“Says you.” I gestured with the old book. “The man who tells her: don’t love me, I’m dying very soon.”

Kalahar sighed. “Your spirit will heal. You must let yourself be open enough to do it.”

I looked back at the book, a spirit’s Shadow illustrated on the page. “The shadow is their essence thrown back at them. A person, place, or thing?”

“Yes.”

“So if your essence is fire, then your Shadow is water?”

“Simplistically, yes. But you know, as I do that spirit magic is as much about the connections of all life. A spirit like Hella Mora, whose essence is grief, and loss. The failing of light and joy. The endless sorrow of grieving lost loved ones, to forever wander the dark woods alone.”

Kalahar was right. Spirit magic wasn’t simple. I was glad I didn’t draw the short straw and become a shaman like Cuan. But Cuan was a study in opposites and sympathetic magic anyway. I was delta, and far too rigid in my own self.

“So Hella Mora’s Shadow isn’t moving on from a loss. It’s the slow, cathartic rebirth after a long time of loss. Finding the light in small things. Learning to life and love again.”

I sighed. “No wonder they asked a phoenix to help.”

Kalahar gave me a small smile. “Yes. A spirit cannot be another’s spirit Shadow, but my magic is uniquely suited to repel her.”

“So, finding Hella Mora’s Shadow is out.” I felt deflated.

“It’s our best chance.” Kalahar pulled some more reference books out. “The Seal of Souls among the library’s sacred artifacts will make our path from the mortal realm to her spirit prison easier.”

“We’ll ask Vicente when we return.” Disappointment bit into me. Yes, we accessed the spirit oasis, but hadn’t come up with anything but a safe place for Nova to have her heat.

Which wasn’t nothing. I sighed. I always expected too much.

Kalahar put his hand on my forearm. “Do not despair. This spirit oasis will respond to our needs. We will find our answers, even if we do not know them for what they are at the time.”

I gave him a look. “You know this is why spirits annoy mortals, right? Because of answers like that.”

Kalahar laughed.

“How are we supposed to seal away a spirit if we don’t know we have the answer?”

I looked at Kalahar, awaiting a reply, but instead he looked at me. Waiting.

It reminded me of Eremasev, the leader of the Order of the Silver Lion. He trained us in physical combat, yes, but we had to know how to read the spirit energy around us. Some deltas got so good at it, they could predict omega heats, alpha ruts, and everything in between.

I had been sure I was going to be that skilled. I had thought I was ready to travel that path. And then my team was captured, and I spent six weeks in hell. Being tortured for information. Being asked to do heinous things and refusing.

I’d had to make myself strong. A hard shell that nothing could penetrate.

It made me strong enough to survive. To kill my captors, free my fellow prisoners, and bring us back to the Order.

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