Page 6 of Flame and Sparrow

Instead, I was going to help destroy them and all of their servants—one shrine, one statue, one temple at a time. To drive them away and reclaim this world that had once been ours. This had been my father’s life goal, and then my sister’s.

Now that they were gone, I’d sworn I would finish the job myself.

At night, I dreamed of the divine realms all collapsing into utter and total darkness, their magic and power reduced to nothing more than pinpricks of fading light.

My first thought upon waking was a similar darkness—a kind of hatred that grew and grew until it collapsed and folded in on itself, and the resulting implosion was violent enough to thrust me from my bed and into another day. Another chance for revenge.

Even now I was picturing the temple beneath me cracking in two, the dedicated riches inside of it tumbling down into broken, useless piles.

Destruction. Revenge. They were the only paths to closure for me. I needed them like I needed the very air I breathed, and tonight…tonight I wouldn’t rest until I’d accomplished both in some capacity.

I leapt to the lower roof and then dropped lightly to the ground. A high fence of black iron rose in front of and behind me, stretching farther than I could see. I followed it to the back of the temple, where it curved and stretched around an elaborate courtyard. Each section of the yard was anchored by a different centerpiece, most of them massive statues and fountains featuring various divine beings and beasts.

So much money spent appealing to immortals who could turn on them at any moment.

Fools.

The humans had been created after my kind. As our replacements, according to most legends. Some were blessed with traces of divine magic at birth, but nothing like what we had once had; they were essentially weaker versions of elves who would pose less of a threat to their Creators. Although, when they passed these legends down to their children, they didn’t call themselves weak,of course—they just called us monsters.

Most seemed unable to comprehend that they could be forsaken and cursed just as we had been, and that sometimes what was consideredmonstrouschanged depending on the lighting.

A shadow moved across the path ahead, bringing me to a stop. I recognized both the scent of citrus and the familiar light and quick weight of the accompanying steps, so I was unsurprised when Cillian rounded the corner directly in front of me.

His cloak covered his pale hair and skin, its flowing fabric shifting through multiple shades of black and purple as he moved, blending perfectly with the night. But his eyes made him impossible to miss; their unsettling green glow was another example of the beastlygiftsthat some elves had. Mine did not glow as his did, but they were a similar shade of too-bright green, and we were often mistaken for siblings because of it—in spite of my much darker skin and hair.

He quickly looked me up and down, making sure I was relatively unscathed, as he approached. We said little, and we lingered mere seconds in each other’s company…just long enough for me to give him the map I’d created and to warn him about the humans I’d heard inside.

“Get somewhere safe,” he told me as we parted.

“Safe?” I teased. “Where is that?”

He gave me a wry smile. Then he was gone, sliding a bag from his shoulder as he went, searching through it for the first weapon he would be strategically planting.

I wasn’t truly worried about him encountering the people inside; he’d faced far worse odds and emerged completely intact. We all had.

It was simply easier to avoid the humans if possible.

And tonight, we didn’t want to give those humansanychance to meddle with our plans. The weapons Cillian had built for this target were new, so we were working with more uncertainty and less margin for error than usual.

He’d shown me those weapons and attempted to explain how they worked—hang-fire bombs, he’d called them. The fuses would burn slowly, silently winding their way through the cylinder-shaped casings, eventually igniting the firestone powder in the center.

Their power was modest, and he’d only managed to procure enough powder to create three of them; firestones were in short supply in this region. Still, they would be enough to bring down the walls closest to where they were placed…which was where my mapping of the building came into play. As quickly as I could diagram a building, he could pinpoint its weak spots. Places our weapons could do the most damage, igniting rippling waves of destabilizing destruction, and then…

Boom.

And we’d be far away by that point, of course.

I kept moving, and soon I encountered proof that Andrel had been busy with his part of the night’s plans as well: three unconscious guards blocked my path. The air still smelled faintly of the kastor-blossom poison used to take them out.

The three men were heaped together directly underneath a polished arch. The arch stretched impressively tall and glistened beautifully in the moonlight, the runes etched on its face appearing to glow from within, but it didn’t look particularly sturdy. If Cillian’s bombs did their job, there was a very good chance the bodies beneath it would be buried by broken stone.

I looked toward the open field across the road, sizing up the distance. I was stronger than any human; it wouldn’t be difficult to haul them to a safer location—though I’d probably only be able to manage one at a time.

“You’re not thinking of protecting these three from whatever fallout Cillian causes, are you?”

I fought the urge to jump, cutting Andrel a cold, sideways glance as he approached from the shadows. “Of course not.”

He continued as though I hadn’t spoken. “Because you know that if your roles were reversed, they wouldn’t think twice about leavingyouto be crushed by this falling temple. Or worse.” He leaned his shoulder against the inside of the arch, picking at something beneath one of his nails as he added, “In fact, they would likely move you into a better position to make certain you were completely buried.”

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