Page 74 of Wings of Ash & Flame
He let out a harsh laugh. “Do you have any idea what this means? That makes us—” He dragged a hand through his hair, pulling strands loose from its tie. “This changes everything, Alaire. Everything.”
His posture stayed rigid, fists clenching and unclenching. He studied the shadows gathering at the tree line before glancing at her again, shoving his hands into his leather pockets.
It seemed like he wanted to say more.
“Dawson?” she prodded.
He shook his head, dragging himself out of whatever thought held him.
“I have to go.”
“What? Go where?”
“There’s something I have to take care of.”
Before she could press him, he turned and walked away. With one last glance over his shoulder, his voice came so softly she almost thought she imagined it:
“Alaire, earlier, you said you deserved to be here. And you’re right—you do.”
Then he mounted Beck and shot into the sky.
Without warning, a tail swept around her waist. Alaire braced for pain—but despite the heat radiating from it, there was no scorch, no burn. Fire that didn’t burn. The paradox stole her breath. Gently, she was deposited onto Solflara’s broad, blazing back.
The feathers beneath her cooled instantly for comfort. She gawked at the phoenix’s control over flame, hope kindling in her chest that one day she might wield her magic with the same precision. Solflara could make her fire sear like Lysia’s sun or soften to a gentle, embracing warmth.
She couldn’t stop the grin that bloomed. That kind of power would be fun.
Solflara clucked like a mother hen.
“It can’t be all work and no play, Solf,” Alaire said out loud now that they were alone.
Solflara harrumphed as she rose to her full height.
As Alaire adjusted her balance atop the living hearth beneath her, she noticed a loose braid of feathers at the base of the phoenix’s neck, knotted to form a natural handle. Genius.
“It appears when a Celestial Familiar bonds with its flier,” Solflara explained. “Along with magic to shield your eyes while flying.”
With a secure grip, Alaire tightened her calves against Solflara’s side. The phoenix bent—and then launched forward with such force it hollowed out Alaire’s cheeks. She felt like an arrow launched toward the sky. Cassiopeia Forest, Cielore, the world itself blurred below them as they climbed higher.
Wind tore at her hair. The land beneath shrank to a patchwork of shadow and shape. Tears streamed down her cheeks—not from the wind, but from the weightlessness in her chest. She had longed for this feeling all her life. Freedom.
Solflara’s wings beat once, twice, and they soared into a steep ascent. For a heartbeat, they hovered in a pocket of silence. Then the phoenix banked sharply and dove.
Alaire shrieked, exhilaration flooding through her.
Solflara flared her wings just before the ground rushed up to meet them, then climbed again, spiraling on the way down.
Leaning forward, Alaire wrapped her arms around the burning bird. For all her aloofness, Solflara was a gift wrapped in fire and feathers—a tether to something greater than herself, the best thing the universe had ever given her.
This was a new beginning. Baptism by flame. A reckoning waiting to unfold.
Where the ocean met the sky, Alaire Vallorian was born anew. Gods forbid anyone who stood in her way.
In answer, Solflara loosed a stream of fire that streaked like a shooting star across the sky.
From ashes to flames. A reminder of how far she’d come. Maybe—just maybe—she could rise from the ashes too.
Eighteen
