Aria's POV
I'm trying to make fire dance, and instead I nearly blow up the temple.
Flames explode from my palms in a wild burst, shooting twenty feet into the air and scorching the ancient stone walls. I yelp and stumble backward, my fire wings flaring instinctively to keep me balanced.
"Control, daughter. Not force."
The voice comes from everywhere and nowhere. I spin around and find them—the Phoenix Ancients, appearing as they have every day since my awakening. They're not solid like normal people. They're made of living flame, their forms shifting and dancing like fire given shape.
There are three of them. The first looks like a warrior woman with wings of crimson and gold. The second resembles an old man with flames for a beard. The third is a young girl who can't be older than I am, her fire burning bright blue.
They're the spirits of my ancestors. The original fire-wielders. And they've been teaching me what I am.
"I'm trying to control it," I say, frustrated. My hands are still smoking. "But it's like the fire has a mind of its own."
"Because it does," the warrior woman says gently. Her name is Ember—or at least, that's what I call her. "Phoenix fire isn't a tool you wield, child. It's part of your soul. You must work with it, not against it."
I take a deep breath and try again. This time, I imagine the flames as a partner, not a servant. I hold out my palm and think soft thoughts—warm hearth fires, candles flickering in darkness, the gentle heat of sunshine.
A small flame appears in my hand, dancing peacefully.
"Better!" The old man—I call him Ash—claps his flaming hands together. "You're learning. In just seven days, you've made more progress than most phoenixes make in months."
Seven days. Has it really been a week since I stumbled into the Burning Wastes expecting to die? It feels like a lifetime ago. I'm not the same girl who was rejected at the Blood Moon ceremony. I'm not even the same species.
"Tell me about my family again," I ask quietly, letting the flame in my palm grow bigger. "Please."
The three spirits exchange glances. They've told me pieces of the truth each day, but I can tell they're holding something back.
"Your grandmother, Elara Emberly, was the last Phoenix Keeper," Ember begins. "She could wield flame like breathing. When you were born, she saw the mark on your soul—the sign of a true Phoenix Heir, someone with power greater than any seen in generations."
"But hunters were coming," the blue-flamed girl—Luna—continues. "People who feared our power and wanted to destroy anyone with phoenix blood. So your grandmother performed a forbidden sealing ritual. She locked your power away so deep that no one could detect it."
"Not even you," Ash adds softly. "She made you appear as a normal wolf. Weak. Powerless. Beneath notice."
The words sting, but I understand. Grandmother sacrificed my identity to save my life.
"And my parents?" My voice cracks. "What really happened to them?"
Ember's flames burn brighter with anger. "They were murdered. Not for dark magic—that was a lie. They were killed because someone discovered the truth about the Emberly bloodline. Someone who feared that a Phoenix Heir would rise and threaten their power."
"Who?" I demand, fire sparking around my clenched fists. "Who killed them?"
"We cannot see everything, child. Our vision is limited. But we know this—the one who orchestrated their deaths still lives. Still holds power. Still fears you."
A surge of rage makes my wings flare wide. The flames around me roar in response to my anger, and for a moment, the entire temple glows like the sun.
"Easy," Ash warns. "Your emotions feed your fire. Rage makes it wild. You must learn balance."
I force myself to breathe slowly, pulling the flames back under control. But the anger doesn't fade. Someone killed my family. Someone lied about them. And everyone believed it.
"The rejection," I say, changing the subject before I lose control again. "Tell me what it did."
The spirits grow somber.
"When the Alpha rejected you, he triggered something ancient," Luna explains. "Phoenix bonds are not like wolf bonds. They cannot be broken—only transformed. His rejection turned the mate bond into a blood curse."
"I can feel it," I admit, touching my chest where the bond used to hurt. Now it just feels... different. "It's like a thread connecting us, but it's pulling from him instead of toward him."
"His strength flows to you now," Ember confirms. "Every cruel word he spoke manifests as a wound on his body. Every moment of suffering you endured becomes pain he must bear. As you grow stronger, he grows weaker."
I should feel guilty. The girl I was a week ago—kind, gentle Aria who helped everyone—would have been horrified.
But I'm not that girl anymore.
"Good," I say coldly.
"We cannot tell you how to feel," Ash says carefully. "But know this—if he dies, part of you dies with him. The curse binds your fates together. His death would wound your power permanently."
"So I can't kill him," I mutter. "But I can make him suffer."
"Is that what you want?" Luna asks softly.
I think about Caspian's ice-blue eyes filled with hatred. The way he grabbed my wrist hard enough to bruise. The words he spoke in front of everyone: You are not worthy to breathe the same air as me.
"Part of me wants him to feel everything I felt," I admit. "Part of me wants to watch him lose everything like I did. But another part..."
I trail off, confused by the ache in my chest that has nothing to do with the curse.
"Another part still remembers that for three seconds, you thought he was your forever," Ember says gently. "That's the mate bond talking. Even transformed, even cursed, some echo of what could have been remains."
"I hate it," I whisper. "I hate that I feel anything for him at all."
"That's what makes you strong," Luna says. "You feel the pain, acknowledge it, but don't let it control you. That's true power, Aria."
I practice for hours after that, learning to make my flames obey. I discover I can spread my wings and float above the ground—not quite flying yet, but close. When I concentrate hard enough, I can look at objects and see truth burning through lies. I test it on a rock, and suddenly I know that it's not just stone—it's volcanic glass from a mountain that exploded three thousand years ago.
"The Phoenix sight," Ash explains when I tell him. "You can see the truth of things. Lies burn away in the presence of phoenix fire. Deception cannot hide from you."
That night, I sit alone in the temple, flames dancing in my palms as I stare at the stars.
Through the curse bond, I can sense Caspian hundreds of miles away. I feel his pain, his weakness, his growing desperation. His pack is suffering because of me.
The old Aria would have stopped. Would have found a way to release him from the curse.
But the woman I'm becoming?
She remembers every insult. Every sneer. Every moment of humiliation.
"You made your choice, Alpha King," I whisper to the flames. "Now burn in it."
As if in response, I feel a spike of agony through the bond. Another wound opening on his skin. His wolf howling in torment.
And I smile.
But then something changes. The bond suddenly flares with a different emotion—not pain, but determination. Caspian isn't just suffering anymore. He's planning something.
Through the curse connection, I catch fragments of thoughts, snatches of conversation:
"...find her..."
"...bring her back..."
"...control the Phoenix..."
My blood runs cold.
He's coming for me. Not to apologize. Not to beg forgiveness.
To cage me. To force me to break the curse. To use my power for himself.
I stand up, wings spreading wide, flames erupting around me in a protective circle.
"Let him come," I say to the empty temple. "Let him see what he created when he destroyed an omega and awakened a phoenix."
But even as I speak the brave words, fear whispers in my heart.
Because I'm still learning. Still weak compared to what I could become. And Caspian, even cursed and wounded, is still the most powerful Alpha in the territories.
What if he captures me before I'm ready?
What if he finds a way to chain my fire the way my grandmother did?
What if—
A presence materializes at the edge of the temple. Not one of my ancestors. Someone real, solid, alive.
A man steps out of the shadows, and my flames roar to life defensively.
He's tall and dangerous-looking, with silver-white hair and storm-gray eyes that seem to glow in the firelight. Scars cover his visible skin, and they're glowing with strange symbols I don't recognize.
He looks at me—at my fire wings, my burning hair, my golden eyes—and instead of fear, his face shows something else.
Awe.
He drops to one knee and bows his head.
"Phoenix Heir," he says in a deep voice that makes my heart skip. "I've been searching for you my entire life."