“Hartt!” Rosalind yelled and Mackenzie sensed her moving, felt Vail drawing closer as she stared at the mage.
The snow began to melt around Mackenzie, steam rising from the grass hidden beneath it as her eyes narrowed on the mage. He swept his blade down at his side, splattering the ground with Hartt’s blood. The rage burned hotter, liquid fire in her veins that burned everything in its path as she bared her teeth at the witch and a hunger to destroy him flooded her.
A desperate need to avenge her fallen mate.
The mage twisted his blade, clutched it in both hands and held it point downwards.
Aimed at Hartt’s head.
Mackenzie kicked off, was hardly aware of what she was doing as a need for violence blazed inside her, as her instincts seized hold of her and demanded she make the male pay for what he had done. She slammed into the mage, steam swirling like mist in her wake as she drove him away from her mate.
Fire leaped from her back, fluttering and streaming behind her, bathing the male’s face in warm light. His crimson eyes narrowed and he grabbed her shoulder, his pupils faintly shining blue as he stared into her eyes.
She knew that look.
Knew the sickening odour of his magic as it swept around her.
He was using a spell to stop her from shifting, keeping her in this weaker form.
His eyes slowly widened, the blue glow that lit his pupils growing stronger and stronger as a flicker of fear joined them. Rather than shrinking into her back, the flames grew larger, arched above her head and shone deepest red to brightest gold at their tips as they formed wings.
A shift he couldn’t stop from happening.
Because her rage ran too deep, her need for revenge flowing too strongly in her veins to be held back. She let the fire consume her, embraced the other side of her, and roared as she spread her wings and the shift came over her.
The black-haired man drove his sword towards her, pierced her shoulder with it but she didn’t feel the pain. She felt nothing but the acidic raw rage that scoured her insides, that stoked the flames of her wings and strengthened her. The grass burned as those flames blazed hotter, satisfaction rolling through her as the mage’s robes caught alight and he teleported away from her.
Mackenzie launched into the air, felt her bones lengthening and becoming fire, saw everything more clearly as her vision sharpened and brightened, flickering in yellow hues as she opened her fiery beak and cried out.
A cry of grief.
A cry of vengeance.
She flew high in the night sky, her fire burning hotter still as the air warmed around her, as the snow as far as she could see melted beneath the onslaught of her heat. Her gaze fixed on the mage as magic swirled around him, as crimson orbs launched from him to fly at her. She cried out again as she twisted into a dive, as she pinned her wings back and whirled downwards, gaining momentum.
The first blast of crimson fire shot harmlessly past her. The second caught her left talon and she unleashed a pained roar as muscle and bone suddenly formed, her flames dying as the spell tore into her.
She stoked her rage, clawing back her phoenix form in time to dodge another blast of the same spell, barely avoiding being struck by it. She unfurled her wings as she neared the ground, banked right to evade another crimson orb and called out again as she swept around, closing in on the mage.
He twisted towards the stronghold.
Mackenzie didn’t give him a chance to reach it.
She beat her wings and brought her talons down, relished his cry as she seized her prey. The scent of his blood was like ambrosia, drugging her as she closed her claws around him, as she carried him high into the air and raised her legs.
Pained crimson eyes filled with disbelief and horror met hers.
Mackenzie struck, her beak slicing clean through his body, cutting him in two. Her flames were quick to incinerate him, to steal the taste of his blood from her tongue, and as she watched his ashes spiralling down towards the earth like snow, the high of victory was short-lived.
She threw her head back and cried out as the fire consumed her too, as her insides succumbed to the flames and her heart laboured. She dropped as her wings gave out, the pain too much for her to bear as her own power devoured her too.
Killed her.
Mackenzie plummeted towards the ground, unable to control her descent, her gaze leaping to Hartt where he lay on the earth, Rosalind bent over him. Her beautiful dark elf. Her mate. Tears misted her eyes, fell as fire as she cut through the cold air, feeling the chill of it as her flames sputtered and died.
She hit the earth hard, blacked out and surrendered to Death’s waiting arms.
When the world came back to her, it took her a moment to recall what had happened. She stared at the demoness standing over her, one who was familiar to her as she offered a jacket. Syn helped her sit up and wrapped it around her shoulders. The scent of earth and spice on the coat brought tears to her eyes, had her clutching it to her and doubling over as she cried out, as her heart caught fire all over again.
Hartt.
Her gaze sought him as she blinked away tears that scalded her face.
She stilled as she spotted him a short distance away.
“Mackenzie,” Syn started, but Mackenzie wasn’t listening, was on her feet and running before her friend could stop her.
Her step faltered as she looked to Rosalind, her heart shattering when the blonde witch stood and shook her head, a grave look on her face.
Mackenzie swallowed hard and sank to her knees beside Hartt, stared down at his ashen, blood-splattered face and willed him to come back to her. She sobbed as she bent over him, as she clutched his chest and pressed her forehead to it, desperate to hear a heartbeat. It was weak when she heard it. Too weak.
She was losing him.
A flicker of fire ignited in her veins again, her grief too much for her in this form as her instincts roared at her, as the whole of her mourned for her mate. She struggled to hold back the flames, desperate not to hurt Hartt, unwilling to let them burn her to ashes again.
Stronger phoenixes than her had died a thousand deaths upon losing someone they loved, consumed by their grief.
She fought the part of her that wanted to give in to her grief. She wasn’t willing to give up. There had to be a way to save Hartt. She clutched his right hand in both of hers and let heat shimmer across her skin to warm his. He couldn’t give up either.
She wanted to growl as the others came to stand around him, as they all looked at her and at Hartt. She couldn’t bring herself to look at them and see the pity on their faces. She wasn’t giving up.
Tears blurred her vision and she blinked them away, wracked her brain to think of a way to save him.
Her heart broke as his eyelids fluttered, as she heard his heart skip a beat and then another.
“Fight.” She leaned over him, pressed her forehead to his and willed him to listen to her. He was strong. He could survive this.
He would survive this.
She drew back as his fingers weakly flexed against hers.
His violet eyes opened, glazed with pain and hazy, and tears spilled down her cheeks as she tried to smile for him, not wanting him to see how afraid she was, how much pain she was in, even though she was sure he could feel it.
“Why?” she croaked and swallowed to clear the thick lump from her throat.
Her chest constricted, felt too tight for her to breathe as he tried to smile for her, only managed to get the corners of his lips to twitch as he gazed up at her.
“I would have resurrected.” She squeezed his hand, her brow furrowing as more tears spilled, as she struggled not to break down. She wasn’t giving up. He couldn’t either. “Rosalind undid the spell.”