On Wings of Chaos (Revenant Wyrd Book 5) by Travis Simmons

letting the fresh scent infuse the air. She reveled in the feel of the warm room and the summery smell, all the while gazing at the snow-covered passes of the mountains above.
    Cianna grabbed the wooden box off the bed and set it on the edge of the slate tub. She disrobed, then slid into the hot tub. She let her body relax into the heat before picking up the box from where she’d set it.
    As the smell of juniper infused her skin, sapping away the chill and easing her mind, Cianna slipped the box open and pulled the medallion out of its black confines.
    The moment it was in her hands, she felt the power of her necromancy, which held her mother inside the medallion. It was rudimentary, crude, not a full working as she was now able to do, but it had accomplished its job.
    Though Cianna said she couldn’t remember how she had trapped her mother’s soul in the medallion, memories of the night her mother had died flooded into her mind. But that had been over thirty years ago. How could she remember such a thing? Cianna wondered if she was making it up, but a familiar pulse of wyrd from the medallion told her she wasn’t.
    She saw the storm-lashed peak of the Ivory Tower. She saw her mother, raising a lapis shin-buto against Arael’s black one. The lightning cracked overhead, and a wash of rain sheeted down on the ivory parapets.
    She saw Arael drive the sword home and felt the quickening of her infant heart as her mother slipped from the living world. Her child mind had followed the feel of her mother’s spirit as it tread the path toward the Ever After. And then she had grabbed the weavings of Pharoh’s wyrd, and sought an item to store her mother’s soul in.
    “Your Aunt Sylvie’s medallion,” she heard a voice, and Cianna jumped.
    The medallion slipped beneath the surface of the perfumed water, but Cianna didn’t notice. She had her eyes rooted on an apparition that had just appeared beside the tub. Her mother. She knew it as certainly as she knew her own name.
    “Mom,” Cianna whispered.
    Pharoh knelt beside the tub and reached out a delicate hand toward her daughter.
    “One half of the twin flames,” Cianna breathed. “I know all of your lore, all of your names. I feel I know you in so many ways.”
    “Except the one that counts,” Pharoh said. “As a mother.” Pharoh’s hand brushed the air around Cianna’s face, not able to connect with her physically, despite being the most solid-looking spirit she’d ever seen.
    Cianna studied her mother’s face. She had her mother’s sharp nose, but not her eyes. Pharoh’s eyes were a radiant blue, Cianna’s were brown. She had the same color hair as her mother, but where Pharoh’s was wavy, hers was curly. She had her mother’s curvy build, but was much taller than her. Her mother was pale where Cianna was tanned.
    “I wish I’d been able to know you,” Cianna whispered, tears staining her cheeks.
    Pharoh nodded. “You do,” she said.
    “But not the way I want to,” Cianna said. Her nose began to run, and she cursed herself for crying.
    “It’s normal,” Pharoh said, and then smiled. “Crying is rarely pretty.”
    Cianna laughed. Pharoh laughed with her.
    “There’s little I can do for you,” Pharoh said. “I was trapped in the medallion with a purpose: to help the LaFaye sorcerers learn their powers, and to lead them against the darkness. There is no way for me to train you.”
    “I know,” Cianna said. Her voice caught against phlegm, and she cleared her throat and tried again. “I know, I’ve already learned my powers anyway.”
    Pharoh nodded. “But you should still carry me with you, if for no other reason than for the chance for me to be close to your heart.”
    Cianna nodded, and Pharoh pointed into the tub, where the medallion was glowing a soft silver. She reached for the chain the medallion hung on and slipped it around her neck, water sluicing off the necklace.
    Her mother was gone, only a memory, but against her breast she felt