Page 11 of Phoenix Chosen 3
Praxis sniffs the air, then laps his tongue along the side of his muzzle like a hungry dog. “IknewI recognized that scent,” he says, grinning to reveal a mouth full of ivory-yellow daggers.
I pull down my hood and show my face. “And I should’ve smelled that bad breath of yours from a stadion away, you scum.”
“You know this guy?” Tyler whispers.
“I wish I didn’t.”
“All this time, a Phoenikos,” Praxis growls. “Gods, it pains me knowing I could’ve wrung you out for a sack of coin.”
“Surprise,” I call back. “You always bragged about being able to smell a profit. Perhaps that nose of yours is not so keen after all.”
The other two poachers jump down from their perch and move behind us, blocking the way back. We’re closed in, except…
I glance up.
“Don’t try it,” the archer warns. “I’ll pluck you out of the sky.”
Their irises flash in the light. They’re not human, they’re Aylourosi shifted into semi-human form. The cat folk can see perfectly in the dark.
It doesn’t matter. Even without the threat of a sharpshooter, I couldn’t risk flying us away. I’d be as conspicuous as a falling star. Every hunter out looking for us would come like moths chasing a flame.
“I’ll give you a chance to make this simple,” Praxis says. “Call it a token of our shared history. The omega. Give him to me, and I will let you live.”
I laugh. “Your nose truly is broken if you can’t smell he’s human. You’re looking to capture a phoenix. I’m right here.”
“You’re worth just a fragment of what is promised in exchange for him,” Praxis says.
“Who promised you?” I demand.
Who in this realm knows about Tyler’s significance? The only possible answer bubbles up from the pit of my stomach.
“A god of unlimited power,” Praxis says. “A god of the shadows.”
That’s all I need to hear. The nearby braziers flare up into the sky as their heat is pulled towards me, and phoenix fire ignites across my arms. I swing my hands out and hurtle bolts of flame at my three opponents like daggers. The swordsman careens back as one scorches his shoulder, setting his tunic on fire, and the archer dives out of the way, falling onto his stomach. The third bolt flies at Praxis’s face, but he makes no effort to dodge. He lifts his hand, and the bolt impacts into his palm—but instead of burning him, it fizzles away like a candle reaching the end of its wick. There’s a shadow wrapped around his hand, a dark void just like the shadow monsters we encountered in the Gaean realm.
“Fool,” I mutter. “What have you done, Praxis?”
He howls with laughter and examines his hand as the shadow burbles and boils around it. “So amusing. All of those years I was out on the streets doing the unspeakable to survive, I never stopped laying down offerings at the Great Wolf’s temple, praying for some kind of salvation. For somehelp. You know what I received? Nothing. Not even an acknowledgment. The priests told me he was listening. It seems I was making offerings to the wrong god.”
“Dammit, Praxis. You’ve gotten yourself mixed up into something that has nothing to do with you. You have no idea what’s on the line.”
“Oh, I understand very well. A world reborn for those existing in the shadows to finally thrive. A place where I can have everything I ever wanted. I will be Lord Umbrios’s first alpha.Thatis what I’ve been promised.”
“Are youserious?” I exclaim.
It’s been so many years since I’ve last had the displeasure of interacting with Praxis, and yet this does make perfect sense. No one ever chose to be around him. He existed in the gang because he was good at what he did, not because he was liked. These two henchmen of his were almost certainly paid, either by him or by Umbrios. That was how it’d always been for him—companionship never came willingly.
Even those who seem to despise everyone else, who purposely push everyone away, wish deep down they could feel the comforting warmth of being wanted by another being. Of being loved.
Praxis advances towards us. Behind us, I hear the archer getting to their feet. I glance back and see them prepping their bow. Praxis raises his hand, signaling to stay their attack. The shadow expands in his palm like he’s holding up a flame of pure blackness.
Tyler grabs the back of my tunic. “Kalistratos…”
I don’t know how long I can maintain my abilities for three beings, but I have no choice.
I reach out to grasp the cord of time and feel my soul buckle under its incredible weight. I might’ve made a terrible mistake. Even with my powers at full strength, the burden of stopping its flow is monumental.
Tyler grabs my hand and pulls me after him. My legs feel like they’re pushing through mud. Then I see it. The shadow in Praxis’s hand.It’s moving.