As Devlin landed beside the broken pier, he returned to his human form, his shoulder blades flexing as he adjusted to the absence of his wings. His arms ached from hours of flying, passing fire after fire like a trail of breadcrumbs leading him through the ruins of Cleveland.
The vivid colors of a polluted sunset caressed the horizon. Ciril perched in an ice-coated tree by the frozen lakeshore, the shades of his feathers matching the sky.
“Are you happy now?” Devlin demanded, tears beading in the corners of his eyes. “You've destroyed something in every settlement in this city. What's next, Dad? What other lives do you want to destroy?”
“As if it's much of a life,” his father replied in phoenix-speak, his avian eyes sharp. “They're just clinging to the bones of their old civilization. It was never going to last.
“Look at them. They live miserable lives, scraping by one winter after another, falling prey to insects and diseases in the summer. We're putting them out of their misery, son. Destroying the final humans is the kindest thing we can do for them.”
“Can't you hear how cruel you are?” Devlin's hands curled into fists—useless against a fire phoenix, but try as he might, he could not unfurl them. “Destroying them isn't the answer.”
“It's the only answer. Letting this world return to what it once was, before the humans ruined it, is the only way to bring the true immortals back.”
“And you think the humans are living in the past? What about you? What if this world doesn't need more immortals? What good would they even do? I know the stories you told me, that they gave their lives to save what was left of the planet. Well maybe they should've done something sooner, before things got that bad. Maybe it's their fault just as much as the humans.”
Ciril's beak clicked. “You don't know what you're talking about.”
“It's your fault, too,” Devlin said more quietly. “You're responsible for making this world worse, and for what you did to me. Is this even what the immortals asked you to do? Because this isn't a mission, it's a curse.”
“Don't you dare speak of the immortals that way.”
“You're right, Dad. They must be pretty special, to make them worth all this.” Devlin laughed, all the harshness of winter clouding his voice. “I hope they are. I hope they're worth you making me into an emotionless killing machine.”
“The humans have to die!” Ciril's wings ruffled. “Do you want to live like this, cursed to be born and reborn into a half-dead world? Where is your sense of justice? When all the humans are gone, we will have peace at last. The humans need to pay for what they've done.”
“What you're doing is wrong. I won't help you anymore, Dad.”
“Then stay out of my way.”
“I won't do that, either.”
In a burst of flame, Ciril was upon him, giving Devlin no time to shift. Devlin raised his arms to shield his face from the digging talons. As his arms elongated into wings, pain burned through him. One of the talons had rent through his still-forming wing.
Bleeding heavily, Devlin shot toward the gold-rimmed clouds. He collided with Ciril as he jetted skyward, the whip of frosty air stealing his screech of pain. But the fire phoenix recovered quickly, releasing a flare of magic as he caught up with Devlin in the sky.
Talon gripped at talon, wings at faces, beaks at feathers. Ciril fought without hesitation. In the blink of an eye, Devlin found himself on the defensive, trying to put space between himself and Ciril's relentless onslaughts.
Desperate, Devlin threw shards of ice off his wings and broke free at last, ascending higher. Ciril followed, snapping at his son's ice blue and white tail feathers.
Devlin climbed higher still, where the last light of day did not reach. Into the high, toxic clouds that still carried the remains of factory smoke and radiation, of wildfires that had torched so much of the world. In this murky air, Devlin found his advantage at last.
The air was cold here—colder still as he climbed. Ciril's ascent slowed, widening the gap between them. Devlin used that cold to form a dozen more hard daggers of ice, leaving them dancing at the tips of his feathers.
But his father was too smart to fall for that trap. He turned, pointed toward the fragile humans below.
This time, Devlin followed, bringing with him a shower of ice shards.
His father twisted in the dark sky, a cyclone of fire that melted the ice daggers—all but the two that nicked his neck and wing.
The sight of his Ciril's blood had Devlin's heart dropping into his stomach. He couldn't do this. He couldn't destroy his own father.
But that moment of weakness was the opening Ciril needed. Ciril exploded upward, locking his claws in Devlin's.
“I won't have you disobey me like this again,” Ciril said in phoenix-speak, dragging his son along with him through the yellowed clouds. “We have a mission, son. Better to end it and start over than lose you like this.”
Devlin's eyes barely had time to widen before it began.
His father burned so brightly, it seared Devlin's vision. In moments, he was blind. Their talons locked too tightly for Devlin to escape. Both fire and ice phoenix plummeted toward the Earth like twin comets, a trail of ice and flame weaving behind them.
His father was burning up. And he was taking Devlin with him.
* * *
Not far from the old zoo, they landed in a burst of snow that fast became sizzling water and steam. As the flames sputtered out, the body of one phoenix crumbled to ash. The other, his feathers charred black, barely hung on to life. His chest rose and fell in hard gasps.
Devlin rolled into the healing cold of the snow, his bleeding talons searching for any purchase in this life. He didn't want to be reborn. He didn't want to forget. He didn't want to find himself in this same place in the next lifetime.
And gods above, did it hurt. He swore he coughed out smoke.
He lay there until night overtook the remnants of the city. Until soft lantern light settled onto him and he peeled back one eye, able only to make out the difference between darkness and light.
When next he woke, he found both Era and Mason dozing beside him, each lying on woven plastic mats. Everything smelled like fire and tasted like ash.
Devlin raised his hands, his vision still blurry. He was in human form. Someone had even covered him with a blanket, as if he were cold.
Above them, the burned-out roof of the gathering house gaped, open to a scanty array of stars. Devlin sighed.
It's over. It's finally over.
He closed his eyes and tunneled into his broken memories, little bubbles of what once had been crystallized within his dreams. Though it made his chest ache, seeing all he had lost, it soothed him, too.