On Wings of Fire: Chapter 28

Fyn arrived at the slopes of Mt. Onyx just as the sun was beginning to set behind the western range. He landed among the craggy folds, feet from one of the hidden entrances to the true Selachen: the underground tunnels that spanned Mt. Onyx and the countryside beyond.

He was careful not to jostle the human-sized, tightly wrapped bundle he carried in his claws. Folding his wings, he slung the bundle around his neck, pushed the large bush disguising the crack in the rock with his tail, and descended into the familiar labryinth.

It did not take him long to find the River of Ashes. It was a deep crack on the outer rim of the volcano that opened just beneath the surface and plunged hundreds of feet to the heart of Selach below. Fyn had only been here once before, but he knew what to do.

He set Ashwythe’s body on the edge of the chasm and tugged the wrappings away. Her face was bloated, distorted by nearly a day’s worth of rot, the scales around her staring eyes shriveled up and peeling away. Godformed always reverted to their human form as they died, after the last traces of their mote bled out. And ever since drakes had settled in Mt. Onyx, they had returned their dead to Selach here, assuming the drake hadn’t been executed or otherwise died a shameful death.

Fyn set the body on the bank of the bubbling river, careful to arrange the hands in closed fists at her sides and close her eyes with two of his talons. He paused, and a shiver ran down his spine as he looked into that still, distorted face and remembered the drake snout perched on an obsidian throne in a hall far below, smirking as it told him the mission he was never supposed to fulfill.

He blinked and pulled himself out of the memory. Then he slid a talon under her waist and tipped Queen Ashwythe, former Archpriestess of Selach, into the lava below.

The body fell face-down onto the viscous liquid. It caught fire immediately, the bright flame casting sharp shadows across the tunnel as the body slowly sank beneath the surface.

Fyn watched it go and felt nothing but relief.

A voice rumbled in Fyn’s head. If she had accepted the new oath, she would have lived. A waste.

“She didn’t want to change,” Fyn said out loud. “She won’t be the only one.”

Then they will fade. Your new oath will win. New magma covers old.

“But I’m hardly older than a hatchling. They won’t listen to me.”

Selach remained silent. Fyn could guess what the silence meant. Selach was not a god of cruelty now. But forging new rock still took an eruption. And Fyn would be at the heart of this one.

“Is it going to be like this from now on?” Fyn asked. “You talking to me all the time?”

That was not specified in the new accord.

It was true. The new Treatise, which after long negotiations in Empyrean had been sealed by human and elemental gods alike, was both more and less limiting than the old had been. Fyn had eventually lost track of all the details, but in the end it was supposed to both prevent the gods from taking anyone’s will, and restrict the rituals and powers that allowed any one human or godformed to influence their god too closely. ‘Archpriest’ would be a title and not an extra tie of power. Exactly when and how a god would commune with his Order now was kind of up in the air.

“Well, I guess you can talk to me when you want,” Fyn said. “But I might not answer. And feel free to talk to other drakes sometimes. Like when I’m telling them all that Ashwythe is dead and I’m their new Archpriest. That’d be helpful.”

Again, no response. His muscles tensed, prepared for Selach’s fit of anger at his insolence, but it didn’t come.

Then Fyn remembered it would never come again.

Fyn let out a long, easing breath. His lips twitched with a private, grateful smile. Then he squared his shoulders, swept his tail across the stone, and went to face his Order.

------

“Are you done primping yet, or do you need another year or so?”

Cassia started from her seat in front of a sheet of buffed steel in one of the small administrative rooms in the newly rebuilt Temple of Peace. Tilana had entered without noticing. Her sharp tone and raised eyebrow was softened by a wide, relaxed smile. She was wearing a breathtaking golden dress that left her shoulders bare and clung to her hips and legs. Her wings, returned to her permanently now, were woven through with gold ribbon to match the dress. They shimmered every time she moved.

Cassia knew that she didn’t look half so radiant in her own pearl dress, though its style was similar. The apricot ribbons in her wings just weren’t sitting right, and she’d never worn them before, so she hadn’t been able to fix it, and the lace necklace at her throat kept turning askew.

It was ridiculous. She had walked boldly into a room full of Archpriests fighting a war and demanded they change. She had fought a witch of Death and argued with gods. But the thought of going out and facing the people of Promise in this finery left her stomach in a knot. She still didn’t know why they had picked her to tie the knot that would hang over the doorway. Micah could have done it, or Tilana even.

Tilana was still waiting, hands on hips, for Cassia’s response. Cassia shook her head and returned to picking at the ribbons in her right wing, which she’s stretched across her lap.

“Just give me another minute… or five.”

Though she tried to hide it, her sister picked up on her mood immediately. Tilana crouched down, eased Cassia’s wing out of her hands, and busied herself with fixing the ribbons. Her fingers were nimble and quick, and she talked as she worked, explaining exactly where and how to weave them between the feathers.

“Thanks,” Cassia said when she finished, a blush coloring her cheeks. She couldn’t stop looking at her wings now, ribbon woven so neatly just as Tilana’s had always been.

“Come on,” Tilana said, taking her arm and tugging at it. “I got Dad to promise he won’t mention you in his speech.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yep. I told him you didn’t need the attention. Your fancy new wings are big enough as it is,” she teased.

“But I’m still tying the tassel?”

“You’re Micah’s daughter. No one will think twice about it, I promise. And besides, Sasha’s tying it with you.”

The knot in Cassia stomach unraveled. She smiled, running a hand over the ribbons in her wings. “My ribbons are fixed, so I guess I’m ready now.”

“Good. Because you’ll want to see this.” Tilana took Cassia’s hand and lead her out of the room. As they left, a pretty winged silhouette in the polished metal caught Cassia’s eye, and her heart skipped a delighted beat when she saw it was not Tilana’s reflection, but her own.

Tilana led Cassia through the new display room, built of limestone and edged with gold and silver, with the Treatise glowing radiant on a simple alter. They went out the open double doors into the courtyard that sloped down to the high fortress wall and iron gates that guarded the Temple. Cassia blinked as her eyes adjusted, and then she saw what lay beyond the iron gates and gasped.

The day was bright and warm, whether because Ais and Rayne had chased away the storms or because the very world was celebrating along with Promise, it didn’t really matter. Hundreds of godformed of every Order were standing or hovering outside the Temple. A great clamor rose, the hubbub of excited speech and laughter. Cassia could smell the roasted mizzlenuts from here. There were humans in the crowd too, clumped together in small groups, but the crowd was thick enough that godformed and humans alike brushed shoulders and watched the Temple doors and waved impatiently.

Standing on the steps to the Temple were almost two dozen godformed, mostly the Archpriests and their aides, and a handful of humans: Sasha, another elder from her tribe, and several other human leaders from the loose groups that had organized themselves across Promise and the Basin since the breaking of the old Treatise.

As she stood, awed, Micah turned and saw her on the steps. He raised an arm in greeting, then signaled the angels on the Temple walls.

The iron gates swung open, and the people of Promise poured in. They filled the courtyard, which was clear and empty now except for the largest fountain, which had been repainted and pattered with all the Orders’ colors, as well as a representation of the spiked V that symbolized the human gods.

Micah hurried up the steps to Cassia, a broad smile crinkling his wrinkled face.

“You look radiant,” he said, taking her hands in his.

He kept an arm around her shoulders all through his speech, which was not long, but was grandiose, his favorite style. Cassia leaned against her father’s chest and listened to his heart beat, letting it lull her and make her forget how many people were watching. She loved watching her father act as Archpriest now. He had a new energy that belied his age, and joy radiated from his face and eager gestures as he spoke.

Cassia would never forget the moment she saw the change come over him. It had happened near the end of that long, fateful day nearly two months ago now, when she and Fyn had challenged the Archpriests, then stepped into the Empyreal plane and challenged the gods. After Fyn was saved, after hours of negotiations with the gods in the plane of magic, and with the new Treatise finally sealed, all of them had returned abruptly to the physical world to call off the war, only minutes after they had left.

Cassia had carried the new, radiant Treatise down that long, winding tower back to the scene of battle, terrified by what she might find below. So when Micah met her in the doorway of the Council chamber, clutching a cut in his side but otherwise no worse for the wear, Cassia had immediately burst into tears and ran to hug him, pressing the new Treatise between their chests.

“You did it? It’s done?” Micah murmured, stroking her hair. “Oh, my wonderful, wonderful girl.”

Through her tears, Cassia felt a brush of a thought from her mote, as if something winged had just slipped past her.

Please, was the whisper.

Cassia dried her tears on Micah’s shoulder and looked up at him. “Dad, she wants you to touch it. She wants to talk to you.”

Micah hesitated. “Cass, I don’t think—”

“She said please.”

Hesitant, Micah reached out and pressed a thin finger to the glowing Treatise.

A spark of power shot through Cassia, and world dissolved around her again. She was back on the boat, floating in the center of the Giving Pool at night with a full moon overhead. In front of her stood Micah, and in front of him stood Mithrinde, radiant and very still.

Cassia could not have spoken if she wanted to. She watched, reverent, as god and disobedient Archpriest regarded each other, wary.

Then Mithrinde traced a hand along his cheek and pulled him into an embrace without warning.

Cassia did not hear the words Mithrinde whispered to Micah, but she didn’t need to. She saw his whole body soften, saw the creases around his eyes lighten, heard his choked reply.

“Always.”

And when her father smiled, Cassia realized she had never before seen him so completely at ease.

Now, watching the crowd roar and applaud him, Cassia smiled and squeezed his waist. He squeezed her shoulder back and looked down at her.

“Your turn now. Go on.”

In that moment, his eyes were the only ones on her.

Sasha had been standing on Micah’s other side, and she turned with Cassia to ascend the steps. She was wearing a neat shirt and leggings adorned with ornate beads and feathers in the style of her people, and though her face was impassive as always, her stance was relaxed and loose.

“Glad to see he’d manage to rope you into the ceremony,” Sasha muttered to Cassia with a bit of a grin. “I thought you were supposed to be the hero of the hour?”

Cassia blushed again. “I’m not, though. It’s Fyn, really.”

Sasha laughed, and Cassia saw too late that she was teasing. “He’s got the right idea of it. Stay away, skip the dance of niceties.”

Cassia could not stop herself from wistfully glancing at the sky. She had not seen Fyn since he had left to sort out Selachen, just a few days after the new Treatise had been sealed. A few quill messages just weren’t the same.

“He said he was coming,” Cassia said, but in truth there had been an implied “if I can” at the end. The transfer of power, and reforming the way humans were treated in the country, were causing him no end of trouble.

Sasha shrugged. They had reached the top of the steps, and the thick rope hung down, course and rough unlike the polished refinement around them. Cassia held up one end of the rope, and Sasha the other. They tied the firm, sturdy knot, and angels waiting in the wings hoisted the rope on a pulley until the knot hung right above the huge, open double doors.

Cassia and Sasha turned, and the crowd below exploded with applause and cheers, tossing streamers and hats and even stray mizzlenuts into the air. Cassia was blushing again but also smiling, soaking in the sun and the noise and the giddiness.

Her mote pulsed inside her, completely at peace. Only the tiniest twinge of disappointment tugged at her heart, but Cassia glanced up at the sky anyway.

At first, she saw only the soaring blue.

Then a winged shadow fell across the sun. It beat its way toward her and more winged shapes followed, a dozen drakes flying out of the wispy clouds in stunning formation.

The crowd below shouted in surprise, but Cassia hardly noticed. She had launched herself off the balcony and was flying, flying into the air and shouting Fyn’s name. He saw her coming and changed to his human form mid-air.

They tumbled into each others arms, bones slamming together in a crush that should have been painful, but it did not matter, nothing mattered because he was here and she was with him again. Fyn held her close and Cassia held him closer, fiery red and pure white wings beating awkwardly to keep them in the air.

“You came,” Cassia managed. Warmth filled up her chest like a cozy fire. She had not realized how much of her he had taken with him.

“Of course,” Fyn murmured, his lips pressed into her hair. “I wanted to see you.”

He drew back and looked at her long, his brown eyes deep and hesitant.

Cassia responded to his unspoken question by pulling him close again and kissing him as they tumbled through the open blue sky.

THE END

A/N: And thus concludes the story of Fyn and Cassia (for now)! Thanks again for reading. Now that the novel is over, I'd love some overall thoughts in your final reviews (or a comment if you're a non-reviewing reader). What did you like most/what was most memorable to you about the story? Is there anything that, looking back, felt like too much of a loose thread? Was there anything in the worldbuilding or plot logistics (e.g. the Treatise and the gods) that felt like it wasn't explained enough or came out of nowhere in a bad way? I'm open to any and all thoughts you may have. <333 to you all.