Page 84 of Dance of the Phoenix
Passing through portals was quite the experience. The moment I “entered” the mine, the portal activated, sucking me in like a vacuum cleaner, blurring my sight and making me feel as though my entire body was shrinking, before it spit me out in a different realm altogether.
Seeing the clear blue sky and the bright-green grass leading toward a ravine, in which sat an impossibly enormous palace made of shining crystals and other minerals, I knew I had arrived at the right place. Despite the damage it caused, my left eye never disappointed.
I trod the plane of grass, my sneakers crushing the grass far too loudly for my liking. Taking them off, I hung them by the laces on the strap of my pouch and breathed far more easily now that the noise was gone.
Quickening my pace, I jogged through the grass until I reached the large courtyard, filled with all kinds of greenery, from palm trees to strawberry bushes, a few thin streams of water slithering around colorful flowers and plants. It was like a well-cared-for jungle.
Not planning on traversing the yard, though, I only stuck to the sideline, hopping over the water as to not make even the smallest splashing sound. When I finally saw a pretty crystal wall ahead, I slowed down and crouched.
As if on cue, the flapping of wings echoed right above me.
Covering my mouth, I jumped into the nearest bush, ignoring the immediate itchiness that followed. Through the thicket, I saw two tall, winged figures landing not far from where I was hiding.
They spoke in a language I didn’t understand, using hand gestures and annoyed facial expressions. They were obviously scouts, going by the tags pinned to the pockets of their cargo pants, but seeing how expressive they were, they must’ve been quite young.
The older the Malachi, the better they were at masking their thoughts. And those who mastered the art of stifling their emotions completely were the Seraphim, the most highly ranked Malachi.
These two were most likely very young Malachi, since Cherubs, the youngest, couldn’t enlist. And with scout being the starting position of every Malachi, it made it easier to identify their place in the Malachi’s hierarchy.
When the two walked away toward the jungle yard, I took a deep breath and let myself out of the bush. Irritated by the itchiness, I tore the leaves and twigs off me before I quietly made my way in the opposite direction, looking for an entrance into the large palace, or any other way to get to its top floor.
I highly doubted I would find a Seraph milling around the lower floors. They might’ve gotten rid of their emotions, but they were still proud.
When I reached the end of the wall, I finally saw an archway. That was the good news. The bad news was that a few Cherubs were hanging around the entrance, and while they were practically babies with wings, I also knew their intelligence was already at the level of a young adult human.
Another bit of bad news: Aside from grass, there were no plants or trees anywhere around here. Meaning no place to hide—or climb—to get to the upper floors.
The Cherubs’ foreign chatter tingled my ears as I debated whether I should retrace my steps and climb one of the trees I saw on the way instead. It didn’t seem likely the Cherubs would go anywhere, seeing as how they practically manned the archway.
Gritting my teeth anxiously, I pulled away and walked back in the same direction I’d come from. When I reached the first tree in my way—thankfully, not a palm tree but a solid oak—I didn’t hesitate and immediately climbed the trunk.
By the time I reached the uppermost branch, I was huffing and puffing, sweat sticking to every part of my still-itchy skin. Parched, I took out the canteen and sipped water before putting it back in the pouch and focusing back on the palace wall.
With how tall the palace walls were, I’d only managed to scrape the second floor. And luckily, there was a small balcony not too far ahead. It wasn’t quite within jumping distance, but I could definitely reach it with a good throw.
Crawling toward the end of the branch, I pushed away the leaves and scanned the area. I could hear the distant wing flaps, meaning there were still some scouts patrolling above, but as for the ground, it looked like the coast was clear.
Pulling out a grappling hook, I took a deep breath, stared at the balcony, and threw.
It missed.
I pulled it back using the attached rope and aimed once more, throwing it with all my might.
And missed again.
Come on, Eliza,I thought, annoyed.You managed far trickier throws in the past. You’ve got this.
Gritting my teeth, I threw one more time, and the third time was definitely the charm, because the grappling hook clung to the balustrade beautifully.
Wiping the new wave of sweat off my forehead, I tied the end of the rope to the branch and tightened the knot as much as possible so it would create a sturdy tightrope.
Then I mounted the tightrope.
It had been many years since I learned the art of tightrope walking. Normally it would involve holding a balancing rod and taking the time to center one’s balance. But since I was in a hurry, I chose the risky method.
With a deep, calming breath, I propelled myself forward and ran.
Or rather, hopped.
