“Ava?” I repeated, my forehead creasing with surprise. “She—” I turned to look at her in the dungeon again, feeling my mouth tighten with the smallest of proud smiles, even though my bottom lip was still quivering with emotion. “It was her all along? All of this was about her.”
The sword instructor nodded. And they truly meant what I thought they did. They were going to send me back. Back to life. Back to Ava, and I was so instantly overwhelmed by their generosity that I had no other reaction in me. I started crying all over again. I sobbed for an entire minute, murmuring every word of gratitude I managed not to choke on while the gods simply watched me.
I thanked them on my behalf, and on Ava’s, until Elder Numa said gently, “You’ve been hard on yourself, Kiena, but you’ve done so well.”
“I do believe we owe you another chance,” the sword instructor said, his eyes flicking past me to the dungeon. “You’ve both earned it.”
“But you,” I recalled, pointing at the witch. I took a deep breath to keep myself composed, even though I was still quivering with emotion and astounding appreciation. “You told me to go home. You told me to forget this.”
“We’re not above playing favorites,” she replied with a raspy laugh, “gods or not.”
“We’d have found another way,” Elder Numa added, “and spared you all this suffering should you have been less determined.”
“And Ava?” I asked, wiping the remaining blur from my eyes. “Did you make me fall in love with her?”
“There are many things we can control,” the witch answered. “The range of human emotion is beyond our reach.”
I nodded, taking a moment to collect myself. To absorb what all of this meant. “What now?” I asked shakily. “Ava’s killed Hazlitt. What do I do?”
“Now,” Elder Numa said, “you fulfill your destiny.”
“What is it?” I asked. “What is my destiny?”
All three of them simply smiled at me, refusing to answer until the sword instructor motioned beyond me toward Ava, and said, “Perhaps you can give her the love and the peace that we so gravely owe her.” My cheeks flared with an embarrassed blush at the expression of my private thoughts.
“Not even we can restore life freely, Kiena,” Elder Numa said, and in the blink of an eye, we were no longer in the dungeon, but outside beyond the walls and the war. I could see the castle and the battle going on in the distance, but as I watched, Night Phoenix landed in front of us.
The dragon touched down with its heavy thud, and stretched its head toward me in such a deliberate way that I knew it to be requesting touch. “Can it see us?” I asked in shock.
“Dragons are beasts of many talents,” the witch answered.
“Hello, friend,” I said, reaching out to stroke the dragon’s snout. But then I realized why we must have come here, and what Night Phoenix had to do with Elder Numa’s statement about life. “If life isn’t free…”
The sword instructor nodded. “The dragon you call Night Phoenix wishes to give its remaining years and memories in exchange for your life.”
I looked at Night Phoenix as my eyes blurred all over again. The dragon didn’t have to do this. It was giving up so many years, so much time and life and energy, and all for me. I was nothing compared to this magnificent creature. It was one of the few remaining dragons in the world, and I was so small. So insignificant. But it cared, and I cried, because I could hardly comprehend the sacrifice Night Phoenix was making solely for me. But at the sorrow and gratefulness on my face, all the dragon did was press up against my hand, as if to assure me that it was fine. That this is what it wanted.
“Will it be reborn?” I asked through a sniffle.
“As it has been countless times before,” Elder Numa confirmed. “Retrieve the egg laid in its ashes, and in three years time, it will hatch.”
“Will Night Phoenix remember me?” I asked, touching my forehead to the dragon’s large nose, and though I’d felt nothing since being killed, I felt the warmth of its mystical breath.
“Not the way you wish,” the witch said. “But as you’ve learned before, some memories live on in blood.”
For what felt like the hundredth time, I broke down crying. “You beautiful, selfless creature,” I said, pressing a teary kiss to the dragon’s snout. “Thank you.” I wrapped my arms as much as I could around it, hugging myself over the bridge of its nose while water spilled from my eyes. “Thank you. Maybe we’ll meet again in your next life.” And Night Phoenix chittered its agreement.
“Goodbye, Kiena,” said the collective voice of the gods.
There was a flash of light from the dragon, a light of which I felt the warmth and the comfort flowing into me even though it was blinding. It filled me, coursed through my skin and bone and blood. After a few long seconds, it was gone, and the dungeon came back into focus as it faded, and I could hear and see and feel again.
Ava had pulled me into her lap and was hugging me to her, her face buried in my neck, still sobbing with despair. I could look over her shoulder just enough to see everyone else except Nira, who was hugging Ava on the other side. Rhien was shielding her eyes with one hand, but I could see tears slipping down her cheeks from underneath it. I’d hardly known Skif and Denig long, but Skif’s eyes were watery as he rubbed his hand across Rhien’s back, and the now human Denig was shaking his bowed head. And even the prince and his parents, who’d been unchained, looked woefully disappointed. Ava was trembling against me, and her tears had soaked the shoulder of my tunic under my armor, but for a minute I just stayed there. Letting her hold me. Knowing exactly how close I’d been to never feeling it again.
“Don’t cry,” I whispered hoarsely, and Ava froze like she was unwilling to believe she’d heard correctly. “I’ve never made a girl I fancied cry before.”
Ava gasped and drew back just enough to look at me, and when her eyes met mine, she broke down all over again. But they were tears of joy, and relief. She squeezed me to her and then let go to plant kisses all over my face, and then squeezed me to her again as she laughed through the tears. She hugged me and kissed me and cried for minutes, muttering over and over again that I was alright and alive as if she had to convince herself it was true.
“That’s a damn lie,” she said eventually, laughing and sniffling like she didn’t know which to do, but she leaned back to look at me, helping me to sit up. “If I had a copper for every tear I shed over you…”
The moment I was upright, I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight so she could feel that everything would be fine now. That I was here. “I’m sorry,” I told her, wishing she knew just how much I meant it. “I love you. I’m sorry.”
It took a minute for me to let her go. She refused to release me entirely, and kept one hand on my shoulder while the other landed on the hole in the chest of my armor. She was still looking at me like she couldn’t believe it. There was awe and confusion and still some disbelief in her expression, but she also didn’t look like she was about to ask what happened. It didn’t seem like she could bring herself to. Didn’t want to ask for confirmation of just how near she’d been to losing me forever.
“The gods,” I told her, watching a fresh flow of tears fall down her cheeks as she traced the hole with her fingers. Everyone else leaned in too, intent on hearing what I had to say. But I couldn’t say it, not entirely. I was too weak, and tired, and I wasn’t certain I could explain without breaking down again from my lingering gratitude, but I mentally thanked the gods again so they’d know I would never take this for granted. “They spared me. They sent me back.” I’d tell Ava about Night Phoenix. Later, when we were alone and had some rest and I didn’t have to worry about a million questions from the others. For now, whether they took what I said literally, or put it down to luck, nobody appeared about to press me with inquiries, and for that I was thankful.