Phoenixed (Guardians of the Angels book 3) by Anyta Sunday

Gold.
Such a beautiful color.
Such deadly consequences.

As one of the three keys to Eirene, Sylva must protect it at all cost to stop the Derinyes from storming the heavenly realm and taking it for their own.
Sylva must keep its whereabouts secret.
But it’s a secret that tears her apart. Saving a realm of souls comes at the price of destroying the few she cares about.

In the final chapter of the Guardian of the Angels trilogy, Sylva, Attic, Marcus, and Alyse are locked in the battle between good and evil, right and wrong. And none of them are sure which side they’ll come out on in the end.
And whether their hearts will remain intact.

 

5 Stars

Ahh, the year of the finale.  It has begun.  That’s two series down, 210 to go.  The ending was wonderful.  It wasn’t rushed and it didn’t leave any loose ends, two things that I usually find when finishing a series.  It just felt right to me.  I was sad to see it end but happy that it didn’t disappoint.

Let’s talk about the POV’s in this book. There was a big difference this time around.  It was like she went willy-nilly with them, I felt I was reading first person and third person multiple or third person omniscient.  It got a little confusing but once I realized what she was doing I rolled with it and the story was enhanced because of it.  Now, I wish I could have read the whole series like this one.  I feel like I missed out on their voices in the other books.

The bad guys were bad and the world building of the underworld was detailed and vibrant. And can I say that I didn’t figure out the betrayer till the last minute, and even then wasn’t sure until it was confirmed!  Good job on that Mrs. Sunday.

On a side note, it was so much fun to watch Oli and Dylan’s relationship progress.  They were so cute to watch!

Oh and I noticed the art reference from book one, kudos for throwing that in there!

Favorite Quotes:

But he wasn’t sure that right and wrong existed anymore.  If they did, they were thin lines separated by a wide sea of gray.  Richard Lark had spoken wisely about that.  Life was only decisions. Some better than others, but none perfect.

My room looked like it had been thrown into a food processor and set on high.  Covered in feathers, peppered with glass, and dripping with trails of smeared blood as if a corpse had been dragged into the corner.

“Before we ride, Lark.” he said seriously, holding my gaze, “you need to understand something.” I grinned.  “Let me guess. Don’t act unless I’m willing to pay the price?”  “Yes.”  Attic dipped his head and our lips brushed.  “And I will always act for you, because you will always be worth the price.”