A Phoenix Rises is a surprising gem, full of dark magic, vivid settings, enduring friendship and forbidden love. A race against time filled with chills, bumps in the night, and betrayal. A Phoenix Rises will entertain you, uplift you, and make you wonder where the time went.
Maya has known magic is evil her whole life. Raised happily in a remote village at the steps of the sprawling Forent Mountain Range, she hasnât had to think too much about it either way. She and her grandmother survive the harsh Voldarian winters by their wits and hard work, and they were doing quite well for themselves.
When Mayaâs best friend is taken from her, the illusion of safety is shattered. Forced to adapt to life on the run, she soon discovers she is a powerful creature with ancient magic thrumming through her bones. Still, will it be enough to save her from the military forces bearing down on them, and the strange magic running wild inside her own body? Will she ever see her friend alive again?
A Phoenix Rises is a surprising gem, full of dark magic, vivid settings, enduring friendship and forbidden love. A race against time filled with chills, bumps in the night, and betrayal. A Phoenix Rises will entertain you, uplift you, and make you wonder where the time went.
Maya has known magic is evil her whole life. Raised happily in a remote village at the steps of the sprawling Forent Mountain Range, she hasnât had to think too much about it either way. She and her grandmother survive the harsh Voldarian winters by their wits and hard work, and they were doing quite well for themselves.
When Mayaâs best friend is taken from her, the illusion of safety is shattered. Forced to adapt to life on the run, she soon discovers she is a powerful creature with ancient magic thrumming through her bones. Still, will it be enough to save her from the military forces bearing down on them, and the strange magic running wild inside her own body? Will she ever see her friend alive again?
There is a great darkness comingâŚMaya woke with a start, gasping, shivering in the early morning air despite the thick cotton nightgown she wore. The words that seemed so important in her dream tumbled in the air above her head and fell back into the silence of sleep, forgotten.
Maya swung her legs out of the wool blanket and gingerly touched her bare feet to the freezing dirt floor, hissing at the cold. Blusters of wind chuffed and puffed around her window, buffeting the wooden shutters.
She could smell the damp ozone of coming rain, the spirit of a storm gathering on the horizon. She grinned in the dim early morning light. Distant thunder rumbled.
Maya walked to her window and threw open the shutters despite the cold. Deep purple clouds were rolling in, causing her to be equal measures thrilled and frightened of the prospect of a good storm.
She watched as the wind picked up, thrashing the tall pine trees that towered over their small cottage. Some storms caused the roof to leak and the floors to be muddy in places and icky for days but oh the rapture of a fire-split sky! The lightening was less impressive presently with minor flashes across the belly of the clouds. Rain began to spit down on her upturned face and with a shiver she closed the shutters again, wiping her cheeks with the sleeve of her nightgown.
Maya sat back down on the bed tiredly, wishing she could crawl back under the covers. Theyâd been up late the night before celebrating Michaelmas, a âquarterâ day, a taxes-due day, the edging in of winter.
A firm hand grasped Mayaâs shoulder, startling her. âGoddess, Gram, you scared me.â
She sat down on the bed beside Maya. âGoddess had nothing to do with the plum wine you drank last night.â
Maya grinned sheepishly. âIt was only one mug â and Alban and I shared it.â In truth, it was two mugs, and they hadnât shared at all, but Gram didnât need to know everything.
âThere is change happening here, I can smell it on the wind, with the rain. Changes for us, certainly for Golten. I want you here, where itâs safe today and the rest of the week.â
Maya, too, felt something in the air but while Gram was worried, she was feeling edgy, hopeful, and restless. âI did have a bad dream,â Maya admitted.
âOh? What of?â
âI canât remember. It feltâŚurgent. Something about a darkness? It didnât make any sense. Seems silly to even mention now that Iâm awake.â
Gram folded her hands on her lap, looking thoughtful. âThereâs been some sickness going about in the village. I assumed it was the usual fevers that pass this time of year but maybeâŚFlorence died last night; do you remember her?â Maya touched Gramâs arm with a gasp. âOf course, the millinerâs mother. Iâm so sorry, Gram. She was younger than you.â
Gram nodded. âI thought maybe she wasnât as strong as we all thought. She had strange symptoms with the fever, bumps here, and here,â Gram pointed under her arm and on the inside of her upper thigh. âAnd the tips of her fingers, her nose and lips turned black.â
âHorrible. Was she in pain?â
âYes, until I helped her along with it.â
Maya nodded. She gave her a quick hug and stood. âIâm sure youâll figure it out, Gram, you always do.â
âLetâs hope I wonât have to, if I never see that again it will be too soon.â
Maya began to get dressed, pulling off her loose, long-sleeved cotton nightdress and tossing it on the bed. She and Gram hardly ever got sick. She smiled as Gram stood and absentmindedly folded her nightgown back in her wooden chest at the foot of her bed.
Maya splashed cold water on her face from the delicately painted yellow and blue clay bowl Gram had placed there the night before. She finished quickly and pulled on her gray under-hose and gray short-sleeved shift. It smelled strongly of the lavender soap they used to wash their clothes in the river, but she could smell the hard wetness of river rock, and the faintest scent of algae.
Shivering in the cold morning air, she layered on a long-sleeved blue cotton tunic. It was her favorite one; Gram had painstakingly embroidered tiny silver roses along the sleeves, neckline and the hem. The neckline was square and accentuated Mayaâs long neck and wide shoulders. It was too fancy for school but Gram didnât seem to mind.
Maya began to separate her thick black hair into braids in front of her mirror. With quick, deft movements of her long brown fingers, she took just enough oil to ease the hair into place while she braided two braids on the right side, two on the left and as was her custom on school days, she wrapped the braids together into a low, tight bun against the nape of her neck. Not one hair out of place.
When she was satisfied, she turned to face Gram who had sat back down on the bed to watch her morning routine. She was looking older this morning, her white hair dull in the gloomy morning light, her pale face seemed to be floating above her muted green dress. Her eyebrows knit together in a frown, but her mouth tilted up in a smile. âWell, whatever comes will come whether we worry about it or no. You are growing more beautiful every day.â
Maya had her father to thank for her warm chestnut skin, her deep brown eyes and full black hair. Her mother had been as white as the driven snow, according to Gram, with long pale golden hair that reached to the middle of her back.
Her fatherâs people had been explorers who had sailed from across the sea from Abuja generations ago. They were rich in gold and silver, their knowledge of metallurgy and alchemy unparalleled. They became default royalty through keen intelligence and ambition. There werenât many of that line left who could still claim the warm, dusky complexion Maya enjoyed, and the positive assumptions that went with it.
She smiled, pleased and surprised at Gramâs unexpected compliment.
Gram took her hand in hers. âI see you are determined to ignore my wishes and you are going to school?â
âI promise to walk softly,â Maya assured her. She turned away resolutely and grabbed her gray woolen cloak from the nail behind her door.
âI am sure you have heard rumors that I can see the future. Today I see you need to stay away from the main roads. Avoid any strangers even if they bear the Queenâs insignia. Especially if they bear the Queenâs insignia. Stay out of sight as much as you can. If a stranger stops you, for any reason, do not speak to them, turn around and come home immediately.â
Alarmed, Maya slouched back down on the bed. âAre there strangers about?â
âNot that I know of.â
Gram owned the land they lived on â the only taxes they paid were in fealty to the Queen herself, not that theyâd ever had so much as a âthank yeâ in return. Still, theyâd never had any trouble from her or her guards either. Or strangers.
Golten was far from the tumult and crime of the bigger villages, nestled snugly inside miles of green woodland that stretched up its thick forest fingers into the Forent Mountain Range, a stately set of four massive mountains. Beyond the craggy heights of the range, on the west coast of Voldaria lay the sprawling royal castle of the Queen herself.
The Queen sat between the mountains and the western beach â a secure stronghold that had withstood many attacks from neighboring islands. Like most people from Golten, Maya had never seen the castle or the Queen but she had heard of its opulence, its stately grandeur.
She stood, unsure, her curiosity piqued.
âIâve heard the rumors in the village. That you can âseeâ things, things no mortal has a right to see,â she added guiltily. She felt bad for even saying it. Magic was illegal and Gram would never do anything illegal. A look flitted across Gramâs face. Anger, maybe, a flare of her old fire, then resignation.
Sometimes there was a knock at the door in the middle of the night, some worried soul or love-struck fool, stopping by to see if Gram could help them. Maya never paid them much attention. People were superstitious, and Gram did know a lot about healing, herbs and tinctures, what tea to brew to sleep better, how to encourage a baby to take root, as often as not how to discourage the process.
Maya noticed, as she had a hundred times, that Gramâs small ears sloped to a gentle point. She was surprisingly strong for a woman her age, thin and willowy.
Gram snorted. âAnd some say Iâm an elf. Itâs ridiculous, isnât it?â
Maya smiled, relieved. Of course, it was. There hadnât been an elfin sighting since before she was born.
âBesides, if I were part elf, Iâd be taller, wouldnât I?â
Maya laughed. They both barely made it to the top of the doorway, all of five feet.
âWeâre more dwarf than elf.â
âWe are strong though, arenât we?â Gram said with a twinkle in her eye.
âRemember what you did to Tyrius? So, maybe.â Maya scowled, remembering.
Tyrius. Just thinking of him made Mayaâs skin crawl. He was older than her and Alban by a few years, with a cruel streak an ocean wide. He had thrown Alban down on the ground, kicking him repeatedly in his bad leg. It was Tyriusâ laughter that had overcome Mayaâs own fear. Sheâd turned on the bully as quick as a wolverine, black eyes flashing, white teeth bared in a snarl.
She grabbed him by the leg as he raised it to kick again and swung him four feet into the air, until the wide trunk of a tree stopped his trajectory with a crack.
No one bothered her after that. Or Alban.
Gram followed Maya down the short hallway that led to the main room, their kitchen and working space. Maya barely registered the long kitchen counter where they cooked â pounding dough into bread or cutting vegetables and boiling grains for pottage, something they ate regularly during the cold winter months.
She could smell pottage cooking, and the intermingling scents of the lavender, sage, and wild onion that were in varying stages of drying. They flitted in the breeze as they passed them, twisting on their small cotton strings stretched across the wooden beam above the fireplace.
Maya used to like to imagine she was part elf; that she could talk to the trees and the animals. She and Alban would be gone for hours in the woods between their cottages and the school, exploring and dreaming. He would play his flute and she would make up stories and words to go with the songs he would play. But that was years ago and far away. She was practically a woman grown now.
Maya stopped before she got to the door, appreciating the warmth rolling off the fire in the white stone hearth. Their morning pottage was bubbling merrily in the large black cauldron suspended over a blazing fire by large iron hooks black with age and soot, and thick black chains. The smell of the fire and the pottage was enough to make her salivate.
Maya realized that in all her fourteen years living here, ever since her parents died, Gram had never once told Maya that she thought she might see the future.
She had time for breakfast, at least. Guilt and hunger pushed her into one of the two thick black-oak chairs they owned and Gram scooped some thick pottage into a wooden dish for her.
It was the small bowl with the chip in the lip that was hers alone. Years ago, in a fit of toddler rage, she had thrown the bowl resulting in the chip, and the bowl being âhersâ forever.
âThank you,â Maya said sincerely as her stomach growled. It was a cold day to start on an empty stomach. She smiled as she had her first bite, groaning with pleasure. Gram had been up early, already getting the eggs from the few scrawny chickens they kept in their small backyard. She had mixed eggs and syrup from last yearâs maple syrup supply into the pottage.
Esa had even thrown the last of the seasonâs juicy blueberries on top. That was when Maya noticed the fresh nails driven into the frame of the door. âOne for luck. One for protection. One for good measure,â Esa said when she saw her looking at them.
It was an old Voldarian custom to drive a nail into the top of a doorframe before a journey to ensure good luck. Sometimes Gram did it when she was feeling uneasy. But three? This was new even for her. Maya began to feel the stirrings of doubt. Was she being foolish by insisting on going to school today? After they ate together in companionable silence, Maya reluctantly stood. Her heart wanted to go. She couldnât live her life hiding in a two-room cottage with her grandmother. There was a whole wide, wild world out there and she wanted to be in it.
âI will be careful,â she promised, apologetically. She squeezed Gramâs hand reassuringly.
âYou may take your looks from your fatherâs people, but your heart and spirit are from me and mine, stubborn as a mule.â
Gram nodded as if sheâd suddenly made up her mind. âGo straight to school and come straight back after. No stopping at Albanâs.â
Maya nodded. âI will, I promise.â
After Mayaâs parents died in an accident, Gram, her motherâs mother, had taken Maya to Golten. She barely remembered her grandfather, who had died when she was four. She didnât remember her mother or father at all. Still, sheâd never known a moment of neglect or abuse.
Another twist of guilt, but Maya pushed it away. She hated missing school. When the snows came in earnest, sheâd miss too much time as it was. And this was her last year.
After she rinsed their bowls in the clay pot by the window, she put on her prized possession: a pair of tan leather, fur-lined boots, a gift from the shoemaker for helping to deliver her third child. The smell of well-oiled leather wafted up to her as she pulled them on.
Gram stood in the doorway as Maya walked out, her mouth clamped tight in a grim line of worry. Maya waved jauntily a few feet away, smiling, the pale underside of her hand glowing in the early morning mist.
Gram merely frowned and went inside, closing the door softly. Maya could hear a faint thumping sound from inside the cottage, and she realized it was probably Gram hammering another nail in the doorframe.
Maya snorted. What could possibly happen in Golten? They knew everyone who lived here, and there wasnât an angry or violent soul among them. Sober, anyway. Not now that Albanâs dad had died.
Maya touched the rough wet bark of the pines on her way out, saying their names in her head. Logan, Sprite, Gant, and her favorite, as wide around as two grown men, Esmeralda, who was so tall she got dizzy trying to tilt her head up to see the top. Tiny water droplets frizzled in the air, more mist than rain.
Gram had campaigned tirelessly for a teacher when Maya had come to live with her. Maya didnât remember it of course, being only three months old at the time, but people still talked about it. How Gram, an older woman clearly past childbearing years, with baby Maya on her back, had gone out in search of someone to come to the village to teach.
Then she had gone out and convinced a few of the villagers to help her build a small one-room school. She got it done right before a royal edict from the Queen Catherine that declared no more schools could be built. There was a lot of turmoil in those days.
Maya stopped at the first small cottage she came to and peeked inside at Albanâs room. It was dark but she could hear his familiar, even snores. She climbed in the window and got down close to one ear. âWAKE UP!â
Alban shot out of bed and landed back down in a scream that was half boy, half man. It started shrill and ended in a low, hoarse laugh.
âThere will be payback for that, Maya.â
Maya grinned, finding comfort in their familiar bantering. Alban was as solid as a rock, as reliable as the sun that rose and set.
âALBAN! Chores should be done by now if you want to go to school. MAYA, get out of there! Youâre not kids anymore!â Albanâs mother yelled from farther inside the cottage.
Maya climbed back out the window. âSorry, Auntie Bev â Iâm outside now.â
Alban got up and met her at the window. âIâll see you there.â
âJust donât skip it, Iâve got news.â
Alban smiled, intrigued. âReally, what?â
âYouâll have to come to school to find out!â
Even though Maya had never lived anywhere but Golten, she was still considered an âoutsider.â She and Gram had come to Golten when she was a baby, and fourteen years wasnât nearly enough time to be considered part of the Golten âfamily.â Many could trace their lineage back three or four generations, most for longer than that, down to the first settlers, including Alban and his motherâs ancestors.
Usually, it didnât bother her. But sometimes, when people got to talking about whose mother did what and whose father said this or that, she found herself wishing she could be included in the stories. What had her mother and father been like? What stories did they have?
She would never know. Gram refused to talk about them except to say her mother died trying to protect her, and of her father she would say nothing but that he had died suddenly but had loved her very much.
She waved to Alban and headed back onto the path, glancing back at their cottages, watching as their small homes disappeared behind a veil of fog.
She fought the urge to run back, to make sure Gram and her home were still there.
She shook her head and forced herself forward, stepping onto the road, wishing Alban could have come with her.
A Phoenix Rises by Angela Yeh is a young adult fantasy novel that combines the magic and political intrigue of the Throne of Glass series with the journeying and questing of Lord of the Rings. When teenager Maya discovers her secret magical heritage and her school friend Alban goes missing, she along with her Grandmother Esa and the gruff Harrow have no choice but to flee their village to avoid capture.
When describing Mayaâs appearance, Yeh highlights Mayaâs âwarm chestnut skin, her deep brown eyes and full black hairâ. It was wonderful to read a YA fantasy novel that features a teenage girl of colour as the heroine. (Wider representation and diversity in YA fiction is always a win!) As well as developing her magical abilities, over the course of the story Maya gradually learns to love her natural curly hair and embrace how she looks. I am sure that some young readers will relate to aspects of Mayaâs personality and be inspired by her determination, loyalty and growing self-confidence.
Despite being a high fantasy novel, A Phoenix Rises feels like it could be set in the real world. Although magic is present on the continent of Voldaria it is a rarity. With the exception of the Lothlorien-esque elven city, the rural towns and locations that Maya and Harrow visit could easily be places in our own world. I enjoyed the inclusion of ordinary, working-class settlements and inhabitants instead of communities of people living in grand futuristic-style cities. This gave many of the places a very grounded and realistic feel.
I do have one big concern with A Phoenix Rises and that is the romance sub-plots. From the opening chapters we learn that Maya only is fourteen years old. She has two main love interests in the novel â the elf Hoosah and the dark, mysterious stranger Seth. Although no exact age is given for either character, we can conclude that Hoosah must be at least a few decades old as he knew Esa when she was younger. Additionally Seth is always described as a man, not a teenager. While I have no issue with teenager Maya having a crush on someone older than her, I do have a problem with both male characters clearly reciprocating those feelings and we as readers are supposed to find those scenes romantic rather than inappropriate. In my opinion this issue could have been fixed either by making Maya a young adult, by choosing Alban as the love interest, or by creating a sibling-like bond to tie Maya, Hoosah and Seth together rather than a romantic bond.
Despite this A Phoenix Rises is an interesting fantasy novel with a lot of potential. I believe the story would be most enjoyed by teenagers and young adults.