The sound of his whip follows the promise. I chase, but my strides can’t come close to matching a phoenix’s. Capri works him into motion, up into a gallop. Dust rises and my view is distorted in the bright swirls. I can’t tell the difference between the beating hooves and my panicked heartbeat. I shout as they reach the first forest path. Capri shifts in the saddle. There’s a terrifying moment when I wonder if the old myths are just myths. Maybe my horse isn’t…

The flames that come are brighter and hotter than any I’ve ever known. A god-sent storm. They break the morning in two. Everything echoes and bursts, and I can hear Capri’s screams. The heat’s so intense that I have to stop well away. All I can do is watch as fire consumes both horse and rider. The nearest branches catch, and before long smoke is pouring into the sky above us.

Capri rolls off one side, a falling mass of flames. The second he hits the ground, my stallion’s fire winks out. Its eyes are ringed with flame, but its coat returns to that onyx color. I move forward to help Capri, but the flames still have him, and they’re devouring everything. I know I’m innocent, but it doesn’t make hearing and watching him die any easier. Horrified, I skirt the body and get my horse settled.

He’s not bothered by Capri’s death. It’s the same way a wolf wouldn’t be bothered by the last gasps of a rabbit. They’re just animals acting out their nature. We leave Capri’s body behind. The forest fire trails us, smoking and clouding every path. None of the riding comes easy, but we ride fast and hard because no matter how far we seem to go, the sound of Capri’s screams follows.

I have to force myself to think of numbers. I keep my hands tight on the reins and look to my bracelet for distraction. Revel chases Bravos down around noon, but fades again. I can almost imagine the two of them ramming into one another somewhere up ahead, slowing down the pace for both of them. Bravos holds to a slim lead. My name hovers in third. As fast as they push the pace, I know I’m gaining on both of them.

Something about Capri’s death wakens a deeper part of my phoenix’s nature. On a few of the corners, I try to slow him down, but he snorts his displeasure and ignores me. It takes all of my mental effort to set the visceral memories of Capri’s death aside. I know I’ll never truly forget the flames and the screams, but for now I focus on what I can see in front of me.