How has it come to this?

This was the thought flashing through Phoenix's mind as she took a step backward, sinking into a low guarding stance. Even as the taller woman struck, Phoenix's mind flew in desperate directions, wondering what tack to take and how forcefully to respond. She didn't even know anything about Colla's combat skills, and from her form . . . they didn't look too solid, but she couldn't underestimate another elementalist.

Colla's arm shot forward in a quick but clumsy strike that moved her forward with great momentum. She immediately spun, however, with a pivoting tailwind that knocked Phoenix ever-so-slightly off-balance even as it braked the Windborn's movement. Phoenix would have tried a hold on her, tried to temper her irrational rage by using it against her, but for her speed and Phoenix's own nerves.

Instead, the Flameborn dodged under her opponent's arm, buying herself another second and a few feet of space. Swiveling to face the older woman, she demanded, "Why, Colla? Don't listen to her!"

Hush, girl, whispered the voice in her head. With a shiver, Phoenix turned to see that the female form wreathed in shadows still stood aloof, not even looking her way. Your friend is determined to kill you—will you allow that?

Gritting her teeth, Phoenix turned back to Colla, who had also paused for some reason. Tears dripping from her eyes, she turned to Phoenix, shoulders tense. "She won't—she won't let us out of this. I'm sorry, Phoenix. You wouldn't understand."

Phoenix stepped back, tensing for the next aggression from her friend. She did not want to fight her. Colla wasn't even combat trained as far as Phoenix knew, and she just couldn't possibly . . . she couldn't . . .

Colla jerked both hands out in front of her, interrupting Phoenix's panicked thoughts with a blast of wind so strong that it distorted the air of the room. Phoenix's footing was swept from her, the gale driving her back-first toward the wall behind her. She scrambled to catch her feet, but even as she did, she saw that Colla had deftly changed position, and was now redistributing the room's air to gust against her from the left.

This time, Phoenix tumbled over, her head colliding with the wall. It felt like stone . . . no, like metal. Hard as any matter, smooth and unyielding. The girl shot out a hand to right her balance against the wall, shaking her pounding head and standing against the lessening gale. Where . . . is she now?

There. Colla had changed positions once more and taken to the air, but she seemed indecisive on what to do next, as though second-guessing herself on further violence.

Phoenix's wings had ignited upon impact with the wall, and she growled softly at the realization that she'd never get by without them. She didn't want to use her winged flames against the woman, but there was no going up against a fellow elementalist while crippling herself.

Phoenix beat her wings, rising halfway toward the ceiling, which was some thirty feet in total. "Colla, please—"

"Shut up!" Colla snapped, mouth twisting into a pained snarl. This time, amidst the fear and grief, Phoenix saw anger. Manufactured anger, kindled by that ghastly demoness, or . . . whatever she was.

Phoenix closed the gap between them, knowing she had to do something but unsure of what. Colla responded with a twirl of one arm and a corresponding shift in the air, pulling Phoenix away. Phoenix adjusted for it, and Colla swerved out of reach with her own feathered wings. They played this game for a minute, Colla seeming to get more erratic and panicked by the end while the Flameborn's breaths came in shorter and shorter gasps. She wasn't so out of shape; it was the nerves.

All the while, Phoenix had virtually lost sight of the Harbingess, though she caught glimpses of her at the edges of her sightline. She seemed to blur in and out of reality, flitting from corner to corner of the expansive, ambiently-lit room. When Colla finally grew tired from the chase, or perhaps too frightened, she turned and screamed suddenly, causing Phoenix to flinch. She uttered no words, just a short, anguished scream. Was that odious woman talking to her again? There was no way to know for sure.

Before the Dolce girl could do anything, Colla spun in the air, the smooth twirl of a Windborn. An accompanying funnel of air spun out from her, buffeting Phoenix. "Why?" the woman howled, kicking up more swirling gusts, and Phoenix couldn't say who she was addressing. "Why!?"

The gusts became a vortex around her, and Phoenix was forced to shy back. She almost lashed out with a wing-flame, which she thought could easily pierce the wind, but . . . what if her assailant didn't see it coming and got struck? Her wings could burn badly. But as Colla shrieked and fed the barely-contained funnel cloud, Phoenix began to doubt her carefulness. This was getting dangerous. Indeed, the winds soon pushed her back to the walls, clawing at her like possessive hands, or scratching cats. Her vest and skirt flapped madly, as though being sucked off of her.

This is insane . . . I didn't even know she could do this.

Ah, came the mental reply from somewhere in the room. And that is the point, child of sky and flame. Are you stronger? Display your flames in their brightest glory, and we shall see. Fail to do so, and you will perish here.

"Shut . . . up," Phoenix growled, feet now grasping at the ground, hands at the walls, wings at the air—all just to fight the tempestuous air currents. "Colla! Please! He's not coming back. I don't want to—"

A ripple shot through the air, an invisible wave that pierced the strong winds and threw Phoenix backward into the wall. What was that? She caught herself this time before cracking her head, but was immediately sucked into the vortex. She beat her wings against it, but made no headway. A dark, shifting shape flickered from place to place on the ground, and she passed right through the shadow woman at one point. Or thought she did. In the center of the room, Colla's blurry form spun chaotically, like a puppet master directing a mad horde of puppets.

Just as the girl neared the center of the whirlwind, Colla looked at her and stopped her twirling. That was when the winds reversed, unwinding with whip-like speed and throwing Phoenix away violently. Her wings flared out, glowing hotter than she could ever remember, and beat frantically, streaming heat to slow her velocity, but it did little. She struck the stone, or metal, with her cheek, chest and shoulder, sending her vision into blackness momentarily, highlighted by moving stars. The circular current in the room's air had mostly ceased, and she simply slid, dazed, along the wall until she thumped into the floor.

She lay crumple on bleeding knees, trying to process what had just happened, but she couldn't. She shook her head, trying to clear the daze, and was acutely aware of a new ache in her cheek. Was something broken? Or perhaps in her shoulder? It didn't want to respond right.

A foot slammed into the back of her neck, and Colla shouted something at her. At this point, Phoenix was done, not wishing to continue this in any way. Her wings had vanished, leaving her back with the tingling of a long-sleeping limb. She simply exhaled with a grunt as Colla kicked her to the floor and stood over her.

"I'm sorry, Phoenix," she moaned, her voice coming out hoarse and dry. "It's for Faridi. Krisika Navol promised me she'd give him back."

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Krisika . . . what? was all Phoenix's numb mind could think, before her distant sense told her, Stupid girl, what are you playing at? There's no choice any more. You have to fight.

But . . . she couldn't. Oh, but her shoulder ached. It hung limply at her side, twinging savagely every time she attempted to move it.

"I'm sorry," Colla said once more, and began to kick her repeatedly.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Her soft-heeled boots drove into Phoenix's spine, causing her body to spasm over and over.

Dully, Phoenix's mind tried to ask the vain question of what to do, how to get up, whether to act at all. Why?

Because she's killing you, a small voice in her head said. Not the evil woman, but her sense of practicality. Slowly, a rage built inside her, kindled by panic and lit by fear. Fueled by pain. She let out a guttural roar that built until a fire seemed to rage inside her bruised chest.

With an explosive boom, her wings burst forth, lighting the room in radiant golden light, shooting straight out from her shoulder blades and spearing her friend. They moved with their own life, twisting and slicing, searing as they went and unhindered by mortal flesh. A horrid smell filled the air, along with the hissing of steam, and Phoenix heard only a short gasp from Colla before she went quiet, and then . . .

Thud.

Phoenix jerked upright, body energized by fiery vigor and adrenaline. Ignoring the blazing pain in her right shoulder, she turned in a crouch to see a sight she would never forget. Never.

"Colla . . . Colla. What . . . no, this isn't right. Colla!" She fell beside her dead friend, whose smoldering clothing his little of the blackened skin beneath. Phoenix's throat constricted, refusing her plea for breath. What have I done?

"A sacrifice to progress, my dear."

Phoenix's gaze jerked up to see the woman standing in front of her, tall and narrow of frame, garbed in thin material of the darkest black, obscured by many waving strands and ribbons. Her appearance was eerie, but not as before. Her skin was also very dark, nearly matching her obsidian hair, which was half down and half done up in intricate braids.

Phoenix rose on shaky knees, wincing at the many wounds Colla had given her, and glared murderously at her tormentor. Surely she had never been so angry with anyone. Her lips trembled, both from rage and from the terrible excitement and sadness that had dominated the last ten minutes.

Before she could speak or act, the woman calmly said, "I would think carefully of what you are about to say or do, girl. You can hate me, but you cannot fight me. I am Krisika Navol, spinner of the upper shadows. A Royal by birth."

Phoenix shut her mouth, which had been about to utter something foul and rash, something honest and foolhardy. She continued to glare, but tried to tell her body to relax, and her wings to abate in their heat. They dimmed to a yellow-orange, lessening in span, but she wasn't sure if she could fully banish them even if she wanted to. Not in this state.

Calm down. Just . . . keep it together, Phoenix. Don't worry about—about Colla.

Worry about getting out of here alive.

"Walk with me," said the woman, and she began striding toward a door in the wall. A door which had failed to exist mere moments prior.

Phoenix followed her, and they exited through a tall doorway trimmed by what seemed to be fancifully-carved wood, but was grey as the interior walls. Through the doorway was a passage that soon became a tunnel, dark and seeming to shift every time she glanced at a given spot. "Would you like a glimpse at some of your friends right now?" Not waiting for a response, she waved at a portion of the wall—it churned and split open, revealing a view of a cave, or . . . chamber . . . lit by strange overhead lighting, housing multiple stone tables.

On these tables sat men and a few women. One of them was Faridi. Phoenix was beyond speaking up, lost in remorseful emptiness, so she simply awaited further narration. Faridi, as the others, were bound in stone clasps and gagged with ropes, head lolling forward. As she watched, Phoenix saw two young men walking up slowly through the aisles of tables:

Solis and Telsan.

"These are prisoners used as the . . . you might say mind of this island," the woman explained, looking down at Phoenix as though expecting her to be impressed. "There are creatures above harnessed to power it, while stone from the Earth was harnessed to mold it. These humans you see, these pitiful lower sapients . . . they serve as its will. You recall how the island felt alive to you?"

Phoenix nodded with a gulp.

"There you have it. A small lesson on the workings of the world above. Don't try to puzzle it out, though: these workings are largely useless, a frivolous choice by my . . . compatriot. He remains away for now. But come, there are a few things I must show you, and then I will leave you for the next while. As your new mistress, however, I will be checking in on you from time to time."

Phoenix nodded again, eyes unfocusing as her pain resurfaced. She shrugged her right shoulder to test it and winced, clutching it with her left arm.

"Oh. Yes, let me take care of that first. Can't have you participating in the charades tomorrow and drawing attention, can we?"

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CHARACTERS

* Solis Lightwing (SOLE-iss)—The main character, a white-winged boy of unceasing curiosity who longs to see inside the forbidden Earth.

* Telsan (TELL-suhn)—Solis’ best friend, a young man of the Bird Tribe.

* Phoenix Dolce (DOLE-chay)—Friend of Solis and Telsan, a Flameborn girl of sixteen years. Daughter of Falla Dolce.

* Pim Lightwing—Daughter of Fey of Longfell and mother of Solis and Floris.

* Arthur Lightwing—An exterior miner, husband of Pim, head of the Lightwing household.

* Faridi (fuh-RID-ee)—A Tapiq man who frequently volunteers for lookout duty.

* Colla—A female Tapiq; often works with Faridi.

* Melka—One of the three living Tapiq Magnates.

* Donnor—Said to be the eldest of the three living Magnates.

* Spore—One of the three living Magnates. Doesn’t say much.

* Fey—Solis’ deceased grandmother, a former Magnate.

* Floris—Solis' younger sister. 11 years old; aspires to be a physician.

* Caris—Eldest of the three Lightwing children, now married and residing in the neighboring Tapiq village of Dram.

* Falla Dolce—Phoenix's mother, a Dustborn from a powerful elementalist family of Fenaback. Kept her family name due to unfortunate events she'd rather leave buried.

* Krisika—A dark and malevolent woman of the Earth whose intentions and involvement in the Sky below is unknown.

TERMS

* Earth, The—An immeasurable continent that looms over the entire sky. Forbidden to all save those whom the Magnates choose each year.

* Tapiq (tuh-PEEK)—The tribe of winged men who dwell in Ameros and the surrounding islands. As with most tribes, they have adopted some from other tribes and races as their own, while others are visitors.

* Ornis—Also called the Bird Tribe, though this isn’t entirely accurate, as there are multiple; most simply live farther north.

* Hiding, The—The six hours in the middle of the day when the Sun’s low-angled course takes it behind the infinite cloud layer that looms beneath the sky world.

* Magnate—One of the three living souls of the Tapiq tribe who have ascended to the Earth and returned, bearing supposedly infinite knowledge that they choose to keep hidden.

* Ameros (AM-uh-ros)—Largest island in the southeastern quadrant of the sky, where the Tapiq village of Megeth lies.

* Megeth (Meh-GETH)—Capital city of the Tapiq people.

* Grimstaf VI (GRIM-stahf six)—An artificial island created west of Ameros by the Harbinger.

* Elementalist—One born with a Kinship to an elemental force. They usually lack wings.

KINSHIPS

* Flameborn—Kin of flame. They form their own wings as needed from tongues of fire that sprout from their backs.

* Dustborn—Artists of soil and dust. They fly with wings created from nearby dust particles.

* Windborn—Wind kin. Unlike other elementalists, these often grow wings just like any other, though some possess heightened abilities allowing them to fly without wings—and thus lacking them.

* Waveborn (aka Watchers)—Keepers of the invisible wards that protect the sky islands from falling hazards. Also, those with the rare ability of sound manipulation.

* Dewborn—These control moisture and redirect water.

* Stormborn—Creators of small storms and electrical currents.

* Snowborn—Bringers of frost and snow on a small scale.

* Sunborn—Manipulators of light.

* Beastborn—These rare kind, seen largely in the northwestern isles, come in different orders according to a certain class of living creature.

* Cragborn—Manipulators of stone.