Page 109 of Wings of Ash & Flame
Solflara’s wings thrashed against the storm, each beat reverberating through Alaire’s body. Her fingers were numb, knuckles aching from gripping so tightly. Fear gnawed at her, but determination blazed hotter. They’d come too far to falter now.
At the base of the charred feather, she froze. Relief surged through her—already, a pale purple feather budded where the ruined one had been. Still, several twisted feathers knotted together, hindering Solflara’s range of movement.
“Come on, come on…” Alaire muttered, working furiously. “Almost got it.”
Her thighs burned as she stabilized herself, hands moving deftly through the feathers. She paused now and then, flexing her fingers against the cold despite Solflara’s attempts to keep them warm with faint heat. With each feather freed, Solflara’s flight steadied, their rhythm slowly returning.
Gratitude rippled down the bond.
Alaire’s legs trembled as she climbed back toward her seat. Solflara guided her with subtle shifts, keeping her steady until she collapsed into her seat. The storm still churned around them, but Solflara’s movements were once again assured—confident. A shrill note of thanks burst from the phoenix’s throat.
Lightning flashed in jagged spears. Gods, she was bone-tired. Every muscle screamed, every drop of rain stung like needles. Her lungs burned with each inhale of frigid air, her stomach hollow with hunger. Still, she smiled. Pain and hunger—old companions. Better to focus on them than on fear.
She let the pain sharpen her, cling to her, root her here.
Professor Ross’s words echoed:You must win the trial. Your very survival at the academy depends on it.
They had to win.
As they broke through the last of the storm, Solflara’s flames surged back to full strength, golden light blazing against the night, chasing away lingering shadows. A triumphant stream of fire cut through the sky. Ahead, Alaire spotted one final checkpoint.
They’d made it.
But Solflara banked sharply, veering toward a hollow in the ground.
“What are you doing?The finish line’s that way.” Alaire jabbed a finger ahead. “I’m beyond ready for this to be over.”
“Look at the silver grass.”
“It’s beautiful and all,but I’d prefer food and a bath.”
“Open your eyes.”
Solflara dove closer.
Alaire’s breath caught. Dark crimson stained the silver grass below. Her stomach lurched as she dismounted, the metallic tang of blood thick in the air.
At the edge of the hollow lay a body curled in on itself, hands clasped over their head. Blood pooled beneath them.
Her gaze locked on a single auburn corkscrew curl spilling from between their fingers.
Kaia.
Twenty-Seven
Alaire dropped to her knees. Gravel and rough stone bit into her leathers, but she didn’t care. With shaking hands, she gently peeled Kaia’s arms from her face.
Please let this be a simulation.
Kaia’s breath came in ragged gasps, each one shallower and more brittle than the last. Her eyes were closed, lips tinged grey.
Alaire’s hands hovered, trembling as they ghosted across her torn leathers, searching for the source of the wound.
Kaia’s body convulsed, limbs thrashing like a broken marionette.
No. No. No.
“Don’t leave me,” Alaire begged, rolling her onto her side—the only thing she knew to do for seizures. “I can’t lose you too.”
