Curse of Stolen Flame (Firebird, #1)

Prologue

When the girl came upon the men in the woods, she did not expect them to be quite so large.

Men seemed so much bigger when they were dangerous, when one had to face them alone. When one was little more than a child.

She had her magic, she told herself as she stepped onto the path in front of them. She had her magic, and they did not. She’d spent days studying them, watching them from afar for any sign of wielding. But none of them possessed a single bit.

Still, as they stopped in their tracks to take her in, no more than a few yards from her, she had to fight the urge to turn and flee.

“What do we have here?” one of them asked, leering as his lips curled in a nasty sneer.

She bared her teeth and willed her eyes to brighten, revealing the magic she carried within her. “Stay away from my home,” she snarled. They’d been terrorizing this road for days now, robbing traders, travelers and hunters alike. Robbing her home of much-needed supplies for winter.

She had had enough.

The men blinked, and then burst into laughter. It grated down her nerves, but her annoyance steadied her, surprisingly. “Stay away from my home,” she repeated, louder this time. She raised her hands before her. Embers sparked at her fingertips.

“Is this really the best they could do?” A different man, the largest of the three, took a few more steps towards her, narrowing the gap between them until she had to tip her head back to look up at him. “Some skinny little thing with a flicker of fire magic in her blood?” he asked as he studied her, not even bothering to keep a hand on his weapon. A vile smile spread across his face.

Quick as an asp, he struck, his fist slamming into her cheek. She fell to the ground with a scream, her magic guttering. Still, she recovered, scrambling to her feet even as the man attacked again, this time hitting her square in the stomach. She buckled over, but remained standing, and lashed out wildly with a flame-covered hand.

The man danced out of reach, laughing. He lunged before she could catch her breath, gripping her around the throat and raising her off the ground. She kicked at him, her burning hands smoldering against his jacket, but the flames were weak. They singed the leather, but not deep enough, not strong enough.

She shouldn’t have come. Should have left it to the guards, even though she knew they’d do nothing. And now her brashness would get her killed, and that would be a relief after what these men did to her. She could see the cruel promise in their eyes.

Please, she begged the gods, though they’d never listened before. Please, help me.

And as her vision began to darken, as the fire at her fingers began to die out completely, she felt something brush up against her very soul. Something ancient and burning, asking a wordless question. A silent request.

Yes, she answered, too afraid to care or think it through. Yes.

That ancient, fiery thing vanished, and for a heartbeat she thought she’d imagined it all. But then pure, undiluted power surged into her body. It was rage and hunger and death.

Fire.

One moment, she was nearly unconscious, sagging in the man’s grip.

The next, she was an inferno, fire enveloping every inch of her. Before the man could shout or drop her, she’d engulfed him in flames, too.

And as the clothes melted from his body, as she incinerated him to ash and his companions ran screaming, a god began to watch.