The journey was peaceful. The carriage glided smoothly through the skies, wrapped in a subtle glow that kept the wind at bay and the high-altitude chill under control. Breathtaking views stretched in every direction—distant mountains, forests as vast as green oceans, rivers winding like silver ribbons beneath the sky. For Helena, it felt like being inside a dream she never wanted to wake up from.
For her, each day was like awakening from a nightmare that had lasted too long. Rand spent most of his time by her side, patiently explaining lessons she had never even dared to dream of learning. He answered her questions with a calm smile, and every explanation felt like a small light lit in the darkness that used to surround her.
Mat remained in his room, withdrawn. His face grew paler each day, as if something within him was slowly fading. Rand, worried, fed him, gave him potions, and claimed it was merely the exhaustion from their previous journey. But Helena wasn't entirely convinced. Something felt off… and Sutiu warned her of it.
But not all moments were dark.
When she finished studying, Helena would walk to the magical window of the carriage and whistle softly. Within seconds, a flaming creature soared through the skies, flying beside the carriage: her phoenix.
Majestic, with feathers shifting between gold and crimson, it flew with outstretched wings, tracing spirals in the air with an almost supernatural grace. Sometimes it would dive and rise again in a sweeping arc, circling the carriage just to hear Helena's delighted laughter.
In more intimate moments, when the carriage hovered in rest or when the sky grew silent, Helena would step out onto the small enchanted balcony at the rear, and the phoenix would land gently beside her. She would stroke its warm feathers, feeling the living energy pulsing within. The bird closed its eyes at her touch, purring low like a fiery cat.
"You understand me, don't you?" she would whisper. "We both were reborn."
The phoenix let out a low, soft sound, as if confirming her words. Helena smiled, but there was something bitter at the edge of her lips. Even on the most beautiful days, the shadows of the past still lingered.
She sat down on the floor of the magical balcony, pulling her knees to her chest, her cloak slipping over the enchanted stone tiles. The phoenix curled beside her, folding its wings slowly, as if it were there just to listen.
"You know… when I was little, I thought the world was made only of alleys." She looked at the darkening sky, painted deep blue and tinged with orange at the edges. "Old houses, filthy streets, people yelling… that was all I knew. There was no sky. No magic."
She fell silent for a while, her eyes lost among the clouds now looking like colored cotton. The phoenix tilted its head, watching her with black eyes that seemed to understand more than any human ever could.
"I had a sister," Helena continued, her voice softer. "Older. Her name was Lira. One day… she disappeared. No one looked for her. No one but me. I think that's why I survived so long: because I refused to forget. Even when my stomach ached from hunger, even when men kicked me just for being in the way... I thought: Lira can't have vanished for nothing. I have to live for both of us."
She took a deep breath. A tear escaped and fell silently onto the enchanted floor. The phoenix nudged her shoulder with its beak, a gesture so tender Helena closed her eyes and smiled again, even as she cried.
"When my father appeared…" she looked at the bird, "I thought it was a hallucination. I was trapped, hurt, bleeding."
She reached out and touched the phoenix's forehead, where the feathers bristled slightly with the electricity of restrained fire.
"Since that day, I feel like we're part of the same thing. Like we're connected."
"Rand believes in me. That still scares me, you know?" she said, her voice steadier now. "No one has ever looked at me that way… like I could be something great. I keep waiting for the moment he finds out I'm not what he thinks. That I'm just a street girl, with dirty hands and a broken soul."
She lowered her head, resting her forehead on her knees.
"But then he smiles… and I start to believe too. Just a little. Just enough to not give up."
Silence stretched for a few moments. The sky was now covered in stars, and the magical air of the carriage kept the night's warmth alive and cozy around her. The phoenix stretched its wings, yawning, and Helena chuckled softly.
"You want to fly some more, don't you?" She stood up slowly, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "Go ahead. But promise me you'll come back."
The phoenix took off, a living flame slicing through the darkness, spinning around the carriage, lighting everything like a golden comet. Helena watched until it was just a dancing dot among the stars.
Alone on the balcony, she looked up at the sky, her hands gripping the railing carved with ancient runes.
"Will I ever be strong enough?" she asked the wind. "Strong like the heroes in Rand's stories? Or will I just keep pretending until someone notices?"
She felt something stir in her chest. A strange warmth. Uncomfortable. A sense that something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
"What was that…?" she whispered, eyes wide. "What is…"
A bolt of pain shot through her head like lightning, and before she could scream, the vision swallowed her whole.
The world disappeared.
Helena found herself in a dark, suffocating room where the air felt rotten. Heavy curtains blocked the light, and shadows stretched across the walls like hands trying to escape. Mat was there, lying in bed, pale as wax, his feverish eyes half open.
The dagger.
It was in his hands.
Black, dull, as if it absorbed the light around it. And alive. Pulsing. Black smoke seeped from the blade, spreading across the walls, the floor, Mat's body. The veins in his neck were dark, almost visible beneath the skin. His lips murmured words in an ancient tongue she couldn't understand.
Mat twisted in pain. His eyes opened—red like embers, with no human light. Helena felt ice run through her veins. He looked directly at her.
"I… can't hold it back anymore," he murmured, voice heavy with pain and despair. "Get me out of here… get me out… before I…"
A silent scream.
The shadow exploded.
Helena gasped, snapping back to reality. She was on her knees on the carriage's balcony, her trembling hands holding a scroll now burning with freshly written words, still smoking:
"The hidden blade steals the friend's soul.If fire does not act… the void will prevail."