Page 17 of A Realm of Fire and Ash

"I wanted to see what the fuss was all about," a feminine voice replies. "You've sure got my brother worked up."

"Who are you?"

She steps into the light of a flame, and I can make out her features—a face like a porcelain doll, with the same shimmery blue skin as the man I made a deal with. Her gilded runes glow brightly against her skin, just like her brother's. Only she wears clothes: a simple tunic, and matching trousers with little silver filigreed swirls along the edging.

"Irid." She props herself against the wall, the flames dancing over her sleek form. They do nothing to harm her, just as they wouldn’t hurt me.

"Are you here to release me?"

Her laughter titters the air like a symphony of bells. "Release you? No, sweetheart, I'm here to make sure you stay. My brother has the habit of breaking pretty things, and through a cruel twist of fate, it wouldn’t work out in my favor this time. I'm here to make sure you stay here, no matter what."

Yeah, that won't be happening.I take a deep breath, desperate for the courage to face this unknown future.

"What do you want from me?"

"Well, Morte," she says slowly, her eyes surveying me in an appraising manner. "First, I'm going to need you to get cleaned up."

A wave of her hand and suddenly, I'm in a steaming bath of hot water.

"Then," she continues, her lips curling into a smile, "we talk business."

I'm too shocked to have the sense to cover myself from her searing gaze. She inclines her head just as a bar of soap drops into the tub.

"Why can't I use my magic, but you can?"

She raises a brow. "I'm not a prisoner. You are."

My teeth clench as I scrub the blood from under my fingernails, trying to ease the tension in my body.

"You and I both know I don't belong here," I hiss. "I'm a phoenix fae."

When she doesn't respond, I dunk my head under the water, bubbles spilling out from the sides of my mouth.

"Ah," she says when I resurface, her voice laced with amusement. "That's a good point. You had a tether to the world, didn't you?"

I pause soaping up my arm to look at her. "Tether?"

"If you happened to die when that tether was severed," she shrugs, "well, it makes sense why you'd find a one-way ticket to the underworld."

I frown, the implications of her words sinking in. "So, you're saying I'm actually dead? For good?" Part of me hoped I’d been dreaming this entire time, or that someone was playing a cruel trick on me. The longer I’m here, the more that notion slips through my fingers.

And if my soul is here, and I feel the bite of flames against my skin, does this mean my body is here, too?

“Dead, dead, dead.” She nods, her expression a little unhinged as she braids her waist-length hair while sitting on the edge of the tub.

For millennia, I worried the gods would call me home. Maybe the myths aren't just legends after all.

“Who dressed me when I arrived?” I never regenerate with clothes.

“One of the minions, I’m sure.”

Irid pokes a finger into the water, swirling it around, and I watch as it creates a little tornado. All the soot, grime, and blood get caught in it, funnel into the air, and evaporate on a puff. She reaches into a tiny pouch at her belt line, pulling out a vial, uncorks it, and pours the contents into the water.

Before I can ask what the hell she just put in there, she volunteers, "You stink. This will make you smell pretty."

I narrow my eyes at her. "For what? I'll just smell nasty as soon as I get chained back to the ground."

"You're not going back there." She rises. "I'm moving you into a nicer place."

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