“I, too, fight for the right to rule,” her cou—sister said. “When the time comes, the two of us will be forced to battle for the honor. But it will be a fair fight. Fair and right.”
“Fair and right,” Taliyah repeated with a nod. “But I’m still going to win.” Facts, and all.
Blythe gifted her with another grin, there and gone. “We shall see.”
“Like your half sister, you will only ever use your new powers in secret.” Her mother’s harsh statement cut through the night, the slightest tremor shaking her. “Erebus and Chaos have enemies who will stop at nothing to apprehend and use you, if ever your identity is discovered. Do you understand? For all we know, the gods themselves will want you dead.”
Though she feared nothing, Taliyah offered a clipped assertion. When had the Vicious ever trembled? “I understand.”
Satisfied, her mother lifted the fireiron sword. The dark metal glinted in the moonlight. “Are you prepared to die to become the phantom you were meant to be, my daughter?”
No! “I...am?” Though she hadn’t yet lived a decade, Taliyah had already participated in two major battles. The first with Sent Ones—winged assassins of the skies—and the other with wolfshifters. She’d watched friends enter the hereafter in the most painful ways, helpless to save them.
If dying today meant better protecting harpykind tomorrow, so be it.
Harpies today. Harpies forever.
“I am,” she offered with more confidence, jutting her chin.
“So be it.” Her mother repositioned into a battle stance, and Tamera and Blythe followed suit. “May your end serve as your beginning.”
That said, Tabitha shoved the fireiron straight into Taliyah’s heart.
Searing pain exploded through her. Blood rushed up her throat and out her mouth, choking her. All thoughts of dying for a cause vanished, survival instincts kicking in. Taliyah fit shaky hands around the hilt and pushed outward. Can’t breathe. Need to breathe.
“May your loss serve as our gain.” Without a shred of mercy, Aunt Tamera thrust the demonglass next to the fireiron.
More searing pain. More blood gurgled from the corners of her mouth. Weakness invaded her limbs, and tears welled.
“May your return serve as an eternal reminder. Death has lost its sting, the grave has lost its power.” Blythe slammed the wooden stake beneath the other two weapons.
The agony! Excruciating and unending. A loud ring erupted in Taliyah’s ears. So cold. Dizzy. What little remained of her strength abandoned her in a rush. Already hobbled, she fell.
Impact rattled her brain against her skull—a skull quickly wetted by an outpour of her blood. All she could do was peer up at a spinning night sky. Dazzling stars beckoned her closer...
She fought. She fought hard, because she couldn’t not fight. Warped by the blades, her destroyed heart raced. Slowed. Until...
It stopped.
Taliyah wheezed a final exhalation, every muscle in her body going lax. Maybe she died, maybe she didn’t. A part of her remained aware, but without time. She floated in a sea of darkness, the barest pinpricks of light blinking here and there, reminding her of the stars. All pain faded.
As the sea carried her farther and farther away, panic set in. She wished to return to her family. She would return. Taliyah renewed her struggles, kicking and clawing.
Blink. Blink. Fighting harder. Lights flared faster and faster, whizzing together. Harder still. Finally—
Taliyah gasped, her eyelids popping open.
Her mother hovered over her, a calculated smile blooming. “Congratulations, daughter. You are officially the second royal harpy-phantom in existence. You’ll do great things or you’ll die again trying.”
2
Realm of the Forgotten, a semisecret dimension
Thousands of years later
A bare-chested Taliyah perched on her knees—willingly. A first-aid kit waited at her side. Her best friend had just pierced her nipple, claiming, “It’s your lucky piercing. It’s going to save your life, I swear!”
Since her best friend Neeka was a harpy-oracle who’d never given a wrong prediction, Taliyah believed her.
They occupied a spacious suite in a luxurious fortress. A master bedroom with glowing crystals that dripped from the ceiling and a beast-skin rug that stretched before a crackling hearth. Furniture made from the bones of wicked men acted as a daily reminder to enjoy the little things. Family created the artwork, an eclectic mix of so-called awards Taliyah’s sisters had given her and masterpieces her only niece had painted.
“A pro hack for permanently scarring an immortal. Make sure the victim—er, recipient—isn’t a screamer.” Neeka the Unwanted stood near the crackling hearth, waiting for the branding iron to finish heating. Firelight cocooned her, illuminating curly black hair, gorgeous brown skin and whiskey-brown eyes.
The beauty received the less-than-stellar Unwanted sobriquet centuries ago from her wretch of a mother. Neeks had barely learned to walk before an enemy raided their village and stabbed her in both ears. Too young to heal from her wounds, she remained without hearing for the rest of her immortal life.
“Why do I need this scar, anyway?” Taliyah asked. “Is it going to save my life, too?”
“Something like that.”
Well, it couldn’t hurt any less than her stars.
After graduating from harpy training camp, Taliyah had issued a formal pledge to compete for the title of General. At that time, a mystic had imbued her left wrist with ten invisible stars. From then on, a star had darkened every time she’d successfully completed a task. The agony of a star’s emergence compared to nothing. A way to weed out weaklings, she supposed.
“By the way, thanks for not killing me when I learned your secret heritage,” Neeka said.
Yeah. Her friend uncovered the truth. But then, Neeka’s father was an oracle who specialized in secrets and mysteries, so of course the girl had figured it out. Kill her for it? No. “Sometimes I want to shout the news to the world. My résumé of abilities has a wow factor, and people have a right to know.”
As a snakeshifter, she mesmerized and cast illusions. A skill she used to spy on any enemy at any time; it also explained her phantom ability to dematerialize, becoming as insubstantial as mist. A few drops of her toxic blood could slay many immortal species and most humans. When she wasn’t wearing an enchanted ring—which was never—she heard phantoms through a mystical connection. Or rather, she heard their screams. The ring saved her sanity.
“You know what you need?” Neeka asked, a familiar glint lighting her eyes.
“No! Do not tell me I’ve got to have—”