A Light in the Flame (Flesh and Fire, #2)

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

I knew Eythos and Keella, the Primal of Rebirth, had done what they believed best. They’d captured Sotoria’s soul before it passed to the Vale, preventing Kolis from bringing her back to life. Their actions had thus started a cycle of rebirth that had ended with my birth.

“What he means to say is that such a thing, a Primal of both Life and Death, is not meant to exist,” Nyktos said. “It would be unthinkable for the embers of both to thrive in one being. But if they could?” He gave a short laugh with a raise of his dark brows. “The kind of power they’d wield? It would be truly absolute. They could unravel realms in the same breath they created new ones.”

A muscle throbbed in Nyktos’s temple. “I cannot love,” he bit out between clenched teeth, speaking to Holland. “I made sure that would never be a weakness someone could exploit.” Something told me that this was more than just him making such a claim. “And how can you ensure that?” “Maia,” he said, speaking of the Primal of Love, Beauty, and Fertility. “I had her remove my kardia.” Penellaphe gasped, her eyes widening with shock. “Good Fates,” she whispered. “I have known none who’ve done that.” I was obviously missing something and also getting tired of asking questions. “What is a kardia?” “It’s the piece of the soul—the spark—that all living creatures are born and die with. It allows them to love another not of their blood irrevocably, selflessly.” Penellaphe swallowed. “It must have been terribly painful to have that torn from you. To truly be unable to love.”

“A charm?” Nyktos surmised. He cocked his head. “I don’t know of anything that could be placed on a person to prevent such a thing.” “You wouldn’t, would you? Not as a Primal of Death.” Penellaphe smiled. “But I am not just a goddess of Loyalty and Duty, I am also a goddess of Wisdom.” “Meaning,” Nyktos said, a slow grin appearing, “you know more than I do, and I should shut the hell up?” Penellaphe’s eyes glimmered in the starlight. “Precisely.”

My gaze flicked up to where Nyktos stood close behind the man. Too close. He was practically breathing down the man’s neck.

“Ward is actually my surname,” he responded. “Vikter is my name.” I belted out a quick, sharp laugh. “You’re a viktor named Vikter?” “He is the viktor,” Penellaphe said, sitting beside me on the dais. “The first.” “Oh.” I bit down on my lip. “So they’re named after you?” “I believe so.”

Become his weakness. Make him fall in love. End him. Not Nyktos. Kolis.

Nyktos was silent for several moments. “The kardia is just a tiny part of the soul. Intangible. You would think that something unseen couldn’t cause much pain, but it felt like my entire chest had been cracked open, and my heart dug out by a dakkai’s claws and teeth,” he stated dispassionately. “I nearly lost consciousness, and if I had been weak, I likely would’ve slipped into stasis—the deep sleep of the gods and Primals.”

Nyktos seemed to take a deep breath, and I supposed I should be grateful that patience didn’t stem from the kardia. “What you plotted to do isn’t something one easily forgets. But what enraged me is that you had to know what would’ve happened to you even if there had been a small chance you’d succeed. If one of my guards didn’t get to you, Nektas would have. Your act would’ve meant your death—the final kind.” I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “I…I know that. I’ve always known that. Even before I learned that the draken were bonded to you.” Nyktos tilted his head, and a lock of reddish-brown hair glided over his temple. “That is what infuriates me. From the first moment I saw you, you’ve behaved as if your life holds no value for you.”

Nyktos loomed, a good head or two taller than I was. “You are…” His jaw flexed, nostrils flaring. “What you carry inside you is far too important. They have to be part of the key to ending what Kolis has done. You may value those embers as little as you do your life, but I do not.” What I carried inside me. The embers were important. Not me. Never me.

What he said meant the realm to me, because every word he’d spoken had been about me and my actions. Not what he believed about me. Not what I or the embers could do for him, but what I had chosen to do. And for the first time in my life, I felt like I was more than a destiny I’d never agreed to. More than the embers I carried within me. I felt like…more.

“Heartmates usually only occur between two people whose unions are linked to some great purpose.”

But with Nektas, it’s…different. He’s old.” “How old?” His gaze drifted back to mine. “He was the first dragon given mortal form.” I nearly choked on my breath. “You mean…?” That smile of his returned, a little broader and warmer, and even more startling in its impact. “My father befriended him when he was a dragon. Nektas was the first to become a draken. He was the draken who gave his fire to the flesh my father lent to create the first mortal.”

We all need someone to watch over us.” Heat crawled up my throat. “Do you?” “Desperately,” he whispered.

“Ector?” Nyktos cut in. There was a beat of silence, and then the fair-haired, sharp-featured god appeared in the doorway. “Yes?” Nyktos pinned him with a cold stare. “This is one of those times I’ve discussed with you on multiple occasions.” I frowned. “When I need to…” Ector cleared his throat. “Shut the fuck up?” “Exactly.”

Nektas’s eyes lifted to mine— I stiffened. His eyes flashed a shade of blue so bright and intense that they briefly resembled polished sapphires before they returned to the deep red hue I knew.

Fate just sees all the possible outcomes of free will.”

“Nothing is more powerful, more life and realm-altering than the ability to feel. To experience emotion. Love. Hate. Desire. To care for oneself. To care for another.”

“I don’t want to be like this,” I whispered before I could stop myself. Nyktos jerked—actually recoiled—and shadows became visible beneath his skin for a brief second. My broken nails scraped the chair’s wooden arms, and I focused on my breathing until the abyss that pained whisper had come from was sealed off once more. “But I can’t feel like that ever again. So, we can’t always get what we want.” I rose. “Not even Primals.”

“Rise,” Ash’s voice was deeper, louder. A powerful thunder. “Rise for the One who is born of Blood and Ash, the Light and the Fire, and the Brightest Moon,” he said, and my eyes cut to him as my breath caught. My title.

“I should be dead,” Delfai rasped. “I’ve seen my death.” Frowning, I glanced at the god but didn’t let go of Ash’s arm. “You were supposed to kill me.” Delfai leaned back against the bookshelf, patches of skin along his arms and neck charred. My stomach churned. “That was how I died.” “Well, you’re not dead, thanks to her.” Ash’s jaw worked as he glared at the god as if he were about to change his mind. “Congratulations.” Delfai’s fingers stilled around his throat. “It may be cause for celebration.” His hand dropped to his lap. “Perhaps there is a silver beast and a brightest moon. Two. Not one,” he rambled. “Two then one.” “What in the hell are you talking about?” Ash demanded. “Nothing.” He smiled widely, revealing blood-streaked teeth. “Nothing but hope.”

“Can you make me a promise?” He lifted his head, and eyes full of silver moonlight met mine. “Anything, liessa.” “When it comes time,” I whispered, “can you take me to my lake? I want it to be done there.” Ash’s chest stilled against mine. His eyes slammed shut as the tendons of his throat stood out, and his features sharpened and thinned. “I promise.”

A Revenant. I’d seen this male in Dalos, only a bit of his profile. He’d been in the hall, waiting for Davon. But that wasn’t the first time I’d seen him. I’d seen him in the mortal realm, in my kingdom, and that was why the gold-painted wings had kept striking a chord of familiarity. He’d been at Wayfair, speaking with my mother. Ezra had told me his name. Callum.

“Kolis knows.” A slow smile tipped up the corner of his mouth. “Of course, he does. He is the King of Gods.” He spoke gently as if conversing with a child. “His Majesty learned of it the night of your birth when your father summoned the Primal of Life to make another deal.” Every muscle in my body stiffened. “What?” “What was his name? Ah, yes. Lamont. Poor King Lamont had no idea that Eythos had answered his ancestor, so he spoke openly and freely with His Majesty. Asked for—no, demanded—that another deal be made, one that freed his newly born daughter from any obligations promised during the original deal.”

“Prophecies often come in threes. Each part seemingly unrelated until they’re all pieced together.”

From the desperation of golden crowns and born of mortal flesh, a great primal power rises as the heir to the lands and seas, to the skies and all the realms. A shadow in the ember, a light in the flame, to become a fire in the flesh,’” he recited. “‘When the stars fall from the night, the great mountains crumble into the seas, and old bones raise their swords beside the gods, the false one will be stripped from glory until two born of the same misdeeds, born of the same great and Primal power in the mortal realm. A first daughter, with blood full of fire, fated for the once-promised King. And the second daughter, with blood full of ash and ice, the other half of the future King. Together, they will remake the realms as they usher in the end.’” “‘And so it will begin with the last Chosen blood spilled, the great conspirator birthed from the flesh and fire of the Primals will awaken as the Harbinger and the Bringer of Death and Destruction to the lands gifted by the gods,’” Kolis continued for Callum. “‘Beware, for the end will come from the west to destroy the east and lay waste to all which lies between.’”

For the one born of the blood and the ash, the bearer of two crowns, and the bringer of life to mortal, god, and draken. A silver beast with blood seeping from its jaws of fire, bathed in the flames of the brightest moon to ever be birthed, will become one,’”

“Blood. The strength of life. Ash. The bravery of death. Life and Death, if taken literally.”

“Is there more to the prophecy?” Callum’s laugh echoed behind me. Kolis nodded. “‘And the great powers will stumble and fall, some all at once, and they will fall through the fires into a void of nothing. Those left standing will tremble as they kneel, will weaken as they become small, as they become forgotten. For finally, the Primal rises, the giver of blood and the bringer of bone, the Primal of Blood and Ash.’” My lips parted as my eyes widened. “The Primal of Blood and Ash…” A shudder of disbelief coursed through me. A being that should not exist. “A Primal of Life and Death.”

Kolis shook. He rocked as my gaze drifted to the open doors and the shadowy leaves swaying in the balmy breeze. To the— To a wolf. A wolf crouched at the trunks of the trees. A wolf more silver than white. A silver beast. Bathed in the brightest moonlight. Ash.