ELARA'S POV
I'm still staring at nothing, trying to process the impossible vision of nine-year-old Vincent standing over my mother's body, when someone whistles cheerfully from the doorway.
"Well, well! The legendary Phoenix Queen looks like she's seen a ghost."
A young man leans against the doorframe, grinning like we're at a party instead of planning a suicide rescue mission. He's maybe twenty, with messy brown hair, bright green eyes, and a smile that probably gets him out of trouble as often as it gets him into it.
"Who are you?" I demand, my hand instinctively moving to where a weapon should be. I don't have a weapon.
"Marcus Thorne, at your service." He sweeps into an exaggerated bow. "Information broker, professional nuisance, and—according to Vincent—a thief and a liar." He winks. "Though I prefer 'creative entrepreneur.'"
"How did you get past the guards?"
"What guards?" Marcus laughs. "Sir Copperfield is downstairs arguing with Kai about battle formations. The resistance fighters are arming themselves. And Vincent is brooding somewhere, probably writing sad poetry about his tragic past." He holds up a large canvas bag. "Which gave me the perfect opportunity to bring gifts."
"We don't have time for—"
"You don't have time to eat?" Marcus pulls out bread, cheese, dried meat, and apples from the bag. "When's the last time you had a real meal? You look like a strong wind could blow you over."
My stomach growls loudly, betraying me.
"Thought so." Marcus sets the food on a crate that's serving as a table. "Sit. Eat. You can't rescue anyone if you collapse from hunger."
He's right, and I hate it. I sit and grab an apple, biting into it so hard juice runs down my chin.
"That's better." Marcus sits across from me, pulling out his own food. "Now, let's discuss the fact that the Queen has put a fifty-thousand-gold-coin bounty on your head. Fifty thousand! Do you know how many sellswords are crawling through the Underground right now, hoping to cash in?"
I nearly choke on the apple. "Fifty thousand?"
"You're officially the most expensive person in the kingdom." Marcus grins. "Congratulations! You're popular!"
"That's not funny."
"It's a little funny." But his smile fades. "Though it does make everything more complicated. We can't trust anyone outside our immediate circle. Even some resistance fighters might be tempted by that kind of money."
"Then why should I trust you?"
"Excellent question!" Marcus tears off a piece of bread. "You shouldn't. I'm a criminal with flexible morals and a tendency to disappear when things get dangerous." He meets my eyes, and suddenly he's not joking anymore. "But five years ago, the Queen's soldiers took my little sister. She was twelve. She had fire magic—not much, just enough to light candles without matches. But that was enough for them to drag her away in chains."
The pain in his voice is real. Raw.
"I've been searching for her ever since," Marcus continues quietly. "Following every lead, bribing every guard, checking every prison. Nothing. It's like she vanished from the world." He looks at me. "So yeah, maybe I'm a thief. Maybe I lie for a living. But I help Raven hunt for stolen people because somewhere out there, my sister is stolen too. And if helping you means I might finally find her? Then you can trust me that far, at least."
I set down the apple. "What's her name?"
"Lily." His smile returns, sad and small. "She always smelled like flowers. Used to put them in her hair even though they'd die by evening." He shakes his head. "Sorry. You've got enough problems without listening to mine."
"No, I..." I hesitate. "I understand. The Queen took my family too. Both of them." I touch my stomach without meaning to. "And she wants to take my child before they're even born."
Marcus's eyes drop to where my hand rests. "Raven told me. That's... that's a lot."
"Yeah."
We sit in heavy silence for a moment.
Then Marcus grins again, forcibly lightening the mood. "Well then! Since we're both fighting the same evil queen for deeply personal reasons, let me help. I've been gathering information about the Cindergrace attack."
I lean forward. "What did you find?"
"The order came from high up—not just your aunt Evangeline, but Grand Inquisitor Mordecai too. They've been systematically destroying villages that might hide Phoenix descendants." Marcus pulls out a folded paper. "But here's the interesting part. Someone warned your adoptive parents three days before the attack. They tried to evacuate but couldn't do it without drawing attention."
"Who warned them?"
Marcus taps his nose mysteriously. "That information cost me fifty silver coins and a favor I'll probably regret. But according to my source? It was Vincent."
My heart stops. "Vincent warned them?"
"Sent a coded message through his own spy network. Tried to give them time to run." Marcus watches my face carefully. "So whatever complicated history you two have, at least you know he tried to save them. Even if he failed."
I don't know what to feel. Vincent warned my adoptive parents but they still died. He tried to help but couldn't stop it.
Just like he tried to save me when he was nine years old, standing over my mother's body—
The vision flashes again. Blood. Crying. "I didn't mean to."
"You okay?" Marcus asks. "You just went really pale."
"I'm fine." I'm not fine. "Thank you for the information."
"Anytime." Marcus stands and stretches. "I should go brief the resistance fighters on palace guard rotations. But eat more first. You're going to need your strength."
He leaves, taking his easy charm with him.
I'm alone again with bread and cheese and too many thoughts.
The door slams open. Vincent storms in, looking furious.
"Who let Marcus in here?" he demands.
"He let himself in. And he brought food, which is more helpful than your brooding." I bite into cheese, not looking at him.
"He's a con artist, Elara. He sells information to the highest bidder. You can't trust anything he says."
"He told me you warned my adoptive parents before the attack." I finally meet Vincent's eyes. "Is that true?"
Vincent freezes. "How did he—" He cuts himself off. "Yes. It's true."
"But they died anyway."
"I tried." His voice cracks. "I sent the warning as soon as I learned my mother had discovered Cindergrace. But it wasn't enough time. They couldn't evacuate a whole village without alerting her spies." He moves closer. "I'm sorry. I should have done more."
"You were trying to save them." The words feel like pulling teeth. "Just like you tried to save my birth mother."
His face goes white. "What?"
"I remember you, Vincent. Not clearly, but enough." I stand, facing him. "You were there during the coup. You were nine years old. And something happened with my mother. Something you've never told me."
"Elara—"
"Did you kill her?" The question rips out of me. "The memory showed you standing over her body. Did you kill my mother?"
"No!" He grabs my shoulders. "I didn't kill her! I tried to save her!"
"Then tell me the truth! All of it! No more secrets!"
"You're not ready—"
"I'M LEADING TWENTY PEOPLE INTO A DEATH TRAP IN LESS THAN AN HOUR!" I'm shouting now. "I think I'm ready for the truth!"
Vincent's hands drop. His whole body sags. "Fine. You want the truth? My mother forced me to watch her kill your parents. Both of them. I was nine years old, and she made me stand there while she murdered the King and Queen." His eyes shine with tears. "But your mother—she wasn't dead yet when Morgana left. She was dying, but not dead. So I stayed with her. I tried to stop the bleeding. I begged her not to leave."
My throat closes up.
"She used her last breath to tell me where you were hidden," Vincent continues, voice breaking. "She made me promise to save you. And then she died in my arms while I screamed for help that never came."
I can't breathe.
"So no, I didn't kill her," Vincent says. "But I watched her die. And I've spent every day since then trying to keep my promise to her." He looks at me like his heart is breaking. "Even if that means you hate me for failing."
I don't know what to say. What to feel.
Before I can respond, Kai shouts from downstairs: "It's time! We move in ten minutes!"
Vincent straightens, wiping his eyes quickly. "We should go."
"Vincent, wait—"
But he's already gone.
I stand there shaking, trying to process everything. Marcus with his missing sister. Vincent's horrifying childhood trauma. My mother's last words. The memory that's not quite a memory yet.
Too much. It's all too much.
"Your Majesty?" Sir Copperfield's mechanical voice comes from the doorway. "We're preparing to leave."
"I know." My voice sounds hollow.
"If I may..." The metal knight steps into the room. "You're losing control of your magic. I can feel it from here—the heat rolling off you in waves."
I look down at my hands. Small flames dance across my fingers. I didn't even notice.
"Without proper training, you'll hurt someone," Sir Copperfield says gently. "Possibly yourself. Possibly your child."
The flames sputter out as fear replaces anger.
"Can you teach me?" I ask. "Can you help me control this before I destroy everything?"
"Not in ten minutes." Sir Copperfield's glowing blue eyes meet mine. "But I can teach you one technique. One way to channel power safely when emotion overwhelms you."
"Show me."
He moves to the center of the room. "Fire magic responds to emotion, yes. But emotion responds to breath. When you feel power building dangerously, you must breathe. Count to four as you inhale. Hold for four counts. Exhale for four. Hold for four. Repeat until the fire obeys."
"That's it? Just breathing?"
"Simple does not mean easy." Sir Copperfield gestures for me to try. "Summon your power. Let it fill you until you're afraid of burning."
I close my eyes and think about everything I'm feeling—rage at the Queen, confusion about Vincent, fear for Isabella, terror for my unborn child.
Fire explodes across my skin.
"Now breathe," Sir Copperfield commands. "Four counts in."
I inhale—one, two, three, four.
"Hold."
One, two, three, four.
"Out."
One, two, three, four.
The flames shrink slightly.
"Again. And again. Until fire becomes servant, not master."
We practice until Kai starts shouting final warnings. My control improves slightly, but it's not enough. Not nearly enough.
"You'll practice more after the rescue," Sir Copperfield says. "For now, this will keep you from incinerating your allies."
"Comforting," I mutter.
We head downstairs where the resistance fighters are armed and ready. Vincent won't look at me. Marcus gives me a thumbs up. Raven stands in the corner, her cracked mask somehow more unsettling in the dim light.
Kai spreads a map on a crate. "The palace has three entry points. We'll split into teams—"
A massive explosion rocks the tower.
Stone and dust rain down. Someone screams. The floor tilts dangerously.
"AMBUSH!" Marcus yells.
Through the smoke, figures pour in—not Queen's guards but something worse.
Bounty hunters. At least thirty of them, armed to the teeth, eyes greedy.
"Fifty thousand gold!" one shouts. "The Phoenix girl is ours!"
They attack from all sides at once.
Sir Copperfield's sword sings as he cuts down three. Vincent's magic crackles—shadows wrapping around enemies' throats. The resistance fighters engage with desperate fury.
But there are too many.
A hunter breaks through the line, charging straight at me with a net made of enchanted chains.
I raise my hands—fire sparks—the breathing technique fails—panic floods me—
The net hits me full force.
I collapse, wrapped in chains that burn cold against my skin, suppressing my magic completely.
"GOT HER!" The hunter drags me toward the shattered wall. "Fifty thousand gold is mine!"
"ELARA!" Vincent's scream echoes through the chaos.
More hunters swarm me, fighting over who gets to claim the bounty.
Through the tangle of bodies, I see Vincent fighting like a demon to reach me. See Marcus take a sword slash across his arm. See Sir Copperfield cutting through enemies but not fast enough.
And then I see her.
Isabella.
My sister stands at the edge of the ruined tower, no longer a prisoner, flanked by Queen's guards.
She's not been tortured. She's not in chains.
She's smiling.
"Hello, little sister," Isabella calls over the chaos. "Thank you for gathering all the rebels in one convenient location." She signals to her guards. "Kill everyone except Elara. The Queen wants her alive."
The bounty hunters look confused—unsure who's paying them now.
"The bounty is a thousand gold for each rebel head," Isabella announces. "And a hundred thousand for the girl, delivered to the palace. Whoever wants to get rich, choose now."
Half the bounty hunters immediately turn on the resistance fighters.
Betrayal. Again. But worse this time because I see the plan clearly now.
There was never a rescue mission.
Isabella was never in danger.
The tracking ritual was a lie.
Everything was designed to get me and all my allies in one place so the Queen could eliminate us all at once.
We walked straight into it.
"Vincent!" I scream as a hunter raises a blade toward him.
Our eyes meet across the chaos.
In that moment, I feel our blood bond pulse with shared knowledge:
We're going to die here.
All of us.
Unless one of us does something desperate.
Vincent's face shifts—determination replacing fear.
"I'm sorry," he mouths.
Then his body erupts in black flames.
Not Phoenix fire. Something else. Something darker.
Shadow magic so powerful it makes the air itself scream.
Vincent Ironhart, the Queen's son, the boy who watched my mother die, the man I'm magically married to—
Transforms into something monstrous.
His skin turns black as night. His eyes glow red. Massive shadow wings spread from his back.
The temperature drops so fast frost covers the walls.
Everyone stops fighting, frozen in terror.
"Nobody," Vincent says in a voice that doesn't sound human anymore, "touches my wife."
Then he attacks.
And the real nightmare begins.