The village tavern was loud, filled with the drunken laughter of farmers and merchants, the clinking of mugs, and the occasional off-key song from a bard who had long since lost his sense of rhythm. But I heard none of it.
The amber liquid reflected the dim candlelight, swirling with every tremor in my hand. I should have drunk it by now. Maybe the burn of ale down my throat would distract me from the hollow ache in my chest. But I knew better. No amount of alcohol could dull this pain.
I sat in the corner, my fingers curled tightly around the cup of ale that had long since gone warm. My body felt heavy, my limbs sluggish, as if grief itself had settled into my bones, weighing me down.
Alexander had killed my father.
He didn't kill him in a fit of rage. Nor in self-defence. But on the battlefield, like any other enemy, cutting him down in the name of war.
And then he had kept it from me.
He died...by my hand.
The words still didn't feel real, even after I had heard them fall from his lips. He hadn't meant to confess- it had slipped out, a cruel truth hidden beneath the argument about his marriage to Lilith. And when I stared at him waiting for him to take it back, to tell me it was a lie, he had only looked at me with something that almost resembled regret.
But regret didn't change the past. Regret didn't bring my father back.
I had loved Alexander. I still loved him, despite every reason not to, despite the betrayal that felt like a knife twisting in my ribs. I had trusted him with every part of me, and now...now, I didn't know what was real anymore.
I clenched my jaw, forcing down the surge of emotions clawing at my throat. I wouldn't cry here. Not in front of these people, not in this place that reeked of spilled ale and old regrets.
Suddenly, the wooden door groaned open, letting in a gust of cold night air. I didn't bother looking up.
Then I felt it.
A shift in the air. A presence, cold and sharp as a blade, slipping into the room unnoticed by the drunken crowd. My fingers tensed around my cup before I even heard his voice.
"I must say, you have a habit of ending up in taverns when things don't go your way." Phoenix drawled, sliding into the seat across from me without waiting for an invitation.
I didn't look up. "And you have a habit of following me."
He smirked. "Someone has to make sure you don't drink yourself into oblivion." His gaze flickered to my untouched mug. "Though it seems I worried for nothing."
I exhaled sharply. "Go away."
He tilted his head, watching me with something that almost resembled amusement. "Now, now. Is that any way to greet a friend?"
I let out a hollow laugh, finally meeting his gaze. "We're not friends."
"No." Phoenix admitted easily, leaning back against his chair. "We're not." He studied me for a long moment, his sharp eyes flickering over my face, taking in the exhaustion, the heartbreak, the barely contained rage simmering beneath my skin. Then, he sighed dramatically. "Oh, human. I hate to say I told you so-"
"Then don't." I snapped.
"-but I did." He continued smoothly, ignoring my interruption. He lifted a single brow. "And you didn't listen."
My grip on the cup tightened, my nails pressing into my palm. "I don't need this right now, Phoenix."
"What do you need, then?" He asked, his voice deceptively light. "Someone to tell you it wasn't his fault? That he had to do it? That war is cruel and full of impossible choices?" His smirk faded slightly, his tone turning softer, almost thoughtful. "Or do you need the truth?"
I swallowed, forcing myself to hold his gaze. "And what truth is that?"
"That Alexander isn't the man you thought he was."
I flinched, because deep down, I already knew that. I had known it the moment I saw the look in Alexander's eyes-not shock, not denial, but something far worse. Acceptance. As if he had already made peace with the horror of what he had done.
"I loved him." I whispered, more to myself than to Phoenix. The words burned as they left my lips. "I loved him and he-" My voice broke, and I shook my head, staring down at the table. "He took everything from me. My mother, my father…" I trailed off.
Phoenix was silent for a long moment. Then, to my surprise, he reached across the table and pried the cup from my fingers. He turned it idly in his hand before setting it down out of my reach.
"You're better off without him, human." He said simply.
I scoffed. "You're only saying that because you hate him."
"I do hate him." Phoenix agreed without hesitation. "But that doesn't mean I'm wrong."
I exhaled sharply, leaning back against my chair, exhaustion creeping into every part of me. "Why are you even here?" I muttered. "To gloat? To say, 'I told you so' a few more times?"
"I was curious." He admitted. "You ran off before I could watch the aftermath unfold. And you know how much I love a good tragedy."
I scowled at him. "You're insufferable."
He smirked. "So I've been told."
Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating. I should have left. I should have stood up, walked out of the tavern, and never looked back. But I didn't. Maybe because I had nowhere to go. Or maybe because, as much as I hated to admit it, Phoenix was the only person who wasn't feeding me empty comforts or false hope. Yes, Phoenix was cruel, manipulative, and arrogant. But he was honest.
I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. "I don't know what to do now."
Phoenix studied me for a moment before leaning forward, his voice dropping to something almost gentle. "Then let me make it simple for you." He said. "You have two choices here, Jane. You can spend the rest of your life mourning what's been lost, letting grief and betrayal consume you."
I swallowed hard. "And the other?"
He tilted his head, a slow, wicked smile curling at the edges of his lips. "Or you can let it fuel you."
A shiver ran down my spine, because I knew exactly what he meant. And maybe, deep down, I had already made my choice.
"So, what's it going to be, Jane?"
"I'm going to end this war. Once and for all." I answered honestly. "It's what my mother would want."
Phoenix was silent again for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to my surprise, he let out a quiet laugh. "Of all the things you could have said." He said, shaking his head. "Vengeance would have suited you better."
"I don't want vengeance." I said, my fingers curling into fists. "I want to stop this. I want to make sure no one else loses everything the way I have."
His amusement faded, replaced by something more thoughtful. He leaned back, stretching his arms over the back of his chair. "You do realise that neither side wants peace, don't you?"
I clenched my jaw. "Then I'll make them want it."
Phoenix chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're either the bravest or the most foolish human I've ever met."
"Probably both."
He tapped his fingers against the wood, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. "If we do this, then you're going to need allies."
I frowned. "The humans will listen if I-"
"Not just humans."
I hesitated. "The vampires-"
"Will never listen to you." Phoenix finishes. "They follow Alexander. They respect him, they're loyal to him. So, if you think you can convince the covens to listen to you- a mere little human, you're delusional."
I swallowed hard. He wasn't wrong. No vampire would follow a human, not unless they had no other choice.
"Then what do you suggest?" I asked warily.
Phoenix smirked. "We get the wolves."
I blinked. "The wolves?"
He nodded, his expression turning serious. "They hate humans. They hate vampires even more. But they hate this war most of all." He leaned forward again, lowering his voice. "If anyone has the power to tip the scales, it's them."
A chill ran through me. The wolves had always been an unknown force, lurking in the shadows of war, refusing to fully align with either side. They had been wronged by both humans and vampires, pushed to the edges of the world, their numbers dwindling but their strength unmatched.
"They wouldn't help me." I murmured.
Phoenix's smirk deepened. "No, but they might help me."
I gave him a skeptical look. "Why would they trust you?"
"They don't have to trust me." His eyes gleamed with something dangerous. "They just have to hate Alexander more."
A heavy silence settled between us. I searched his face for any sign of deception, but Phoenix-frustrating, maddening Phoenix-was telling the truth.
"If we do this." I said slowly. "It won't just be about ending the war. It will be about surviving it. Which is why I won't be using this." I curled my fingers around the amulet, feeling its unnatural warmth against my palm. So much power, so much destruction wrapped up in a single piece of metal.
It had saved me. It had protected me. But it had also taken.
"So." He drawled. "We're making deals with wolves now?"
I exhaled, my heart pounding with something that almost felt like hope. It was reckless. It was dangerous. But it was a plan. And I had nothing left to lose.
I stood reaching for my cloak. Phoenix followed suit, his expression unreadable as he watched me.
I met his gaze, my voice steady. "We're ending this war. No matter what it takes."