Aria's POV
You are not dying, daughter of phoenixes. You are being reborn.
The voice made of fire and fury still echoes in my head as Mira helps me pack my tiny cloth bag. My hands shake so badly I can barely fold my spare dress—the only other piece of clothing I own besides what I'm wearing.
"Maybe you heard wrong," Mira whispers desperately, shoving a chunk of bread and some dried meat into my bag. "Maybe it was just fever dreams. Maybe—"
"It wasn't a dream." I touch my chest where the strange warmth keeps growing stronger. "Something is happening to me, Mira. I can feel it."
She looks at me with terrified eyes. "What if it's dark magic? What if the stories about your family are true?"
The words sting worse than I expected. "You believe them now?"
"No! I just—" Mira's face crumbles. "I'm scared, Aria. I don't want to lose you."
Neither of us mentions that she's about to lose me anyway. In less than two hours, I'll be walking into the Burning Wastes where no one returns.
We don't have much time to say goodbye. Too soon, the door bursts open and Elder Thaddeus marches in with his guards, his cold eyes sweeping over me with disgust.
"Time's up, Emberly. Let's go."
"She still has an hour!" Mira protests.
"The Alpha wants her gone now." Thaddeus's smile is cruel. "Consider it a mercy—she'll have more darkness to hide her shame as she leaves."
The guards grab my arms roughly, hauling me to my feet. Pain explodes through my weak body, but I bite my tongue to keep from crying out. I won't give them the satisfaction.
Mira runs after us as they drag me through the healing den and out into the cold night air. "Aria! I'll never forget you! You're the bravest person I know!"
I try to turn back, try to tell her she saved me more times than she knows, but the guards are already pulling me away. The last glimpse I have of my only friend is her tear-streaked face disappearing into the darkness.
They march me through the pack territory, and it's worse than any nightmare.
The wolves are awake despite the late hour—Thaddeus must have spread the word that I'm being banished. They line the streets like I'm a criminal being paraded to execution. And maybe I am.
I recognize so many faces. There's Mrs. Chen, whose daughter I made a beautiful wedding dress for just last month. She spits at my feet as I pass. There's old Marcus, whose infected wound I cleaned and bandaged when no one else would touch him. He turns his back.
"Traitor's daughter!"
"Cursed blood!"
"Good riddance!"
The insults rain down on me, each one a dagger to my already shattered heart. These people weren't my friends, but I helped them. I was kind to them. And now they celebrate my death sentence.
A small movement catches my eye. Little Sara, a six-year-old girl I used to sew dolls for, peeks out from behind her mother's skirt. For just a second, she waves at me—a tiny, secret goodbye.
Her mother slaps her hand down and yanks her inside.
Even the children aren't allowed to show me mercy.
The walk to the border feels like it takes forever and no time at all. With each step, my body screams in protest, begging me to stop, to rest, to give up. But the guards don't care. They just keep dragging me forward.
Finally, we reach it—the edge of the Crimson Wilds territory where the normal forest ends and the Burning Wastes begin.
I've never been this close before. No one comes here unless they have a death wish. The border is marked by a line of ancient stones carved with warning symbols, and beyond it...
My breath catches.
The Wastes stretch out before me like a nightmare made real. The ground is black volcanic glass that reflects the rising sun in a thousand fractured pieces. In the distance, mountains made of the same black glass jut up like broken teeth. Smoke rises from cracks in the earth, and even from here, I can feel the heat rolling off the cursed land in waves.
Everyone who enters the Burning Wastes dies. That's not a story—it's a fact. Rejected mates stumble in seeking death, and the Wastes grant it within hours. The heat alone is enough to kill, never mind the toxic fumes or the jagged glass that shreds flesh with every step.
This is where they're sending me to die.
"Any last words, Emberly?" Thaddeus asks mockingly.
I turn to face him, and something must show in my eyes because he actually takes a step back.
"I'm innocent," I say clearly, my voice stronger than it's been in days. "My family was innocent. And one day, everyone will know the truth."
"The dead don't speak truths," Thaddeus sneers. "Now go. Die with whatever dignity you have left."
The guards release me and I stumble, barely catching myself. My legs feel like water, but I force myself to stand straight. I won't fall in front of them. I won't give them that satisfaction.
With my small bag clutched to my chest, I turn toward the Wastes.
The sun is just starting to rise, painting the sky in shades of red and gold. It would be beautiful if it wasn't the last sunrise I'll ever see.
I think about Mira. About my parents who died protecting me from lies. About the grandmother who sealed my power to keep me safe. About the mate who destroyed me without a second thought.
You are not dying, daughter of phoenixes. You are being reborn.
"I hope you're right," I whisper to whatever voice spoke in my mind. "Because I have nothing left to lose."
I take my first step across the border.
Immediately, the heat slams into me like a physical wall. It's so intense I gasp, my lungs burning with each breath. The black glass crunches under my feet, sharp edges cutting through my thin shoes.
Behind me, I hear the guards laughing. They think I'll turn back. They think I'll beg for mercy.
But I keep walking.
One step. Then another. Then another.
Each step takes me deeper into the Wastes, farther from everything I've ever known. The heat gets worse with each passing moment. Sweat pours down my face. My vision starts to blur.
But something strange is happening.
The warmth in my chest—the ember-glow that's been growing stronger—suddenly flares to life. It spreads through my body like liquid fire, and instead of burning, it feels... right.
I look down.
The ground beneath my feet is glowing.
Not reflecting the sunrise. Actually glowing, like there's light coming from under the black glass. And it's getting brighter with each step I take.
"What the—" I hear one of the guards shout behind me.
The glow spreads outward from my feet in a circle, crawling across the volcanic glass like living fire. Ancient symbols I've never seen before start appearing on the ground, burning bright gold.
My chest doesn't hurt anymore. The weakness flooding my body is fading, replaced by something else—something powerful and ancient and awake.
The voice returns, louder now, made of crackling flames and power that shakes my bones:
COME HOME, DAUGHTER OF PHOENIXES. COME HOME AND CLAIM WHAT WAS STOLEN. COME HOME AND BURN.
The black glass beneath my feet cracks.
Golden light explodes upward in a pillar that reaches the sky.
And somewhere deep in the Burning Wastes, something that has been sleeping for a thousand years opens its eyes.