Page 90 of Dance of the Phoenix
“I thought Euphorrey’s Relics were practically a myth,” Ragnor murmured after a long silence. “According to what I was once told, the Relics siphoned the Morrow Gods’ powers after their deaths and mixed them with the blood of the dead of the Massacre of Euphorrey, which created an overpowering magic in each of the Relics.”
I grimaced. “Yes,” I said, “that’s exactly it.” I took a deep breath. “There are five Relics altogether. Out of the five, the Tears of Euphorrey is the most dangerous Relic. Because it gives its owner the power to ...”
I hesitated, reluctant to share the horrible truth. But Ragnor shot me an impatient look, and I knew he had to know. He had to prepare. So I looked away, clenching my hands into fists, and spit it out. “The power to control any living being with a single thought.”
Unsurprisingly, Ragnor scoffed. “That’s it?” he said, and when I turned to look at him, he gave me an almost incredulous look. “I mean, it’s a bad power, but you know my mental fortitude is unmatched—”
“What if I told you that more than one Seraph had fallen victim to the Tears of Euphorrey?” I cut him off, a grim, dark feeling settling in the pit of my stomach.
He stared at me for a few long moments before he said, “Are you talking about the case of Garroth’s disappearance?”
Garroth used to be one of the strongest Seraphim in the world—until two hundred years ago, when he suddenly disappeared off the face of the realms. “Not only Garroth,” I said, “but Michael too.”
Ragnor seemed to see where I was going with this, and he suddenly grew wary. Michael had been aknownSeraph—he was considered an angel in multiple religions. He was just that famous. But Michael, despite the stories and legends surrounding his existence, had disappeared more than two thousand years ago, never to be seen again.
Theorius, I knew, was a Cherub under Michael’s tutelage. That was the reason he was ardently looking for Euphorrey’s Relics. Because while he no longer had emotions, he still wanted to solve the case of Michael’s disappearance, even if only out of a sense of obsessive duty.
“Both Garroth and Michael were known for their mental fortitude, which far surpasses yours, no offense,” I said now, monitoring Ragnor’s face carefully. “Theorius, the Seraph I got this information from, and another, vastly different source, believe the Tears of Euphorrey was the culprit—or rather, its owner at the time.”
Ragnor shook his head slowly. “It makes no sense,” he said, sitting back down on the chair. “A mere Relic couldn’t possibly hold enough power to take down a Seraph. Where is the evidence of that?”
“This is the thing, Ragnor,” I said quietly. “When a Seraph dies, what do they turn to?”
He knew exactly what I was talking about, and his face went slack as finally, my point seemed to hit home. “They turn to ashes.”
“Exactly,” I said, feeling a dark resolution rising inside me. “I’m going to try and infiltrate Atalon’s dorms and find the Tears.”
Ragnor’s eyes were filled with dread as he looked at me. “According to what little I know about the Relics,” he said, voice tense, “they can bind themselves to their owner.”
“That’s one thing you don’t have to worry about,” I said, grimacing. “The Relics won’t be able to be bound to anyone else other than the descendants of the Morrow Gods—or rather, the Children of Kahil.”
Ragnor didn’t seem relieved at the information. And he shouldn’t have. Because the fact was, Atalon had the Tears of Euphorrey. Somehow, the Jinn had gotten their hands on that Relic, and, for whatever reason, they gave it to Atalon, a vampire, of all people.
But Atalon being in league with the Jinn was the least of our problems right now. Because in two days, Ragnor would have to face Atalon in the final Hecatomb battle, and if Atalon got to control Ragnor’s mind ...
It would be the end of him.
In the end, even though I managed to infiltrate the Atalon League dorms while everyone was away watching the Hecatomb League members’ battles, I did not find the Tears of Euphorrey.
And when I tried to find a way to sneak up on Atalon in his League gallery, the vampire Lord was surrounded by his powerful League members, the seven-pointed-star gold earrings dangling from his ears.
He was always wearing the Tears.
After weeks of using my powers to hide myself from the Malachi, moving from one state to another, barely sleeping, trying to keep myself alive, I was still recharging, my powers so depleted, I could use none of them.
My uselessness had cost Ragnor’s life.
And perhaps Aileen Henderson’s too.
Part VII
Chapter 49
Aileen
Fire surrounded me. Endless, furious fire that seemed to take over everything, creating a suffocating, yet smokeless, hell.
In this hell, I was somehow able to exist, formless and shapeless, as if I was part of that fire, only with a mind of my own and a sense of sight.
