Roxanne had prepared herself for the worst, so she was stunned when a shimmering phoenix glided into the temple and perched atop the altar.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE“It does not do to underestimate simplicity.”
~ Elven Proverb
Roxanne was aware of goings-on behind her—gasps of shock and cries of reverence—but she had eyes only for the glorious beast. He wasn’t made of fire, as she’d imagined he would be. Rather, each of his feathers looked like a flame that had frozen in time. Brilliant veins of red, orange, and gold ran together in his plumage. A crest of feathers curled at the back of his head like a crown that had been tipped askew, and his long tail swayed like a reed in the wind.
Are you Valaan? she asked. Whoever had been holding her had let go, and she slowly approached the altar.
No,
