Chapter 27 The Phoenix is Rejected
The sun was now a molten disc as it climbed higher, painting the mountain path in shifting golds.
Lo Garyan led the way, his stride surprisingly agile for his age. La Meiphi followed, her eyes constantly scanning the dense foliage. Klishei moved with anticipation. The air, crisp and pine-scented, filled her lungs with each ascending step.
“It’s not much further, child,” La Meiphi called out, her voice barely a whisper above the rustle of leaves. “Just past the whispering pines.”
Klishei nodded, not trusting her voice. The words of the Phoenix still echoed in her mind: I thought you had already accepted your fate.
She hadn't. Not truly. She accepted that it existed, but not that it was hers.
“We used to bring your parents here for picnics,” Lo Garyan reminisced. “Your mother, Eisa, loved the view from the top. Said it made her feel like she could touch the stars.”
Klishei pictured her mother, a woman of quiet strength, always with a gentle smile.
“Did they ever talk about… the prophecy?” Klishei finally asked.
La Meiphi’s gaze met hers. “They spoke of it constantly, Klishei. Especially after you were born. The elders, they were so sure. The crimson moon, the howls… they wanted to parade you, to offer you up.” A shiver ran down Klishei’s spine.
“But your parents, they fought for you. They wanted you to choose your own life, not live one dictated by ancient texts and hungry wolves.”
“A life I never even knew I had,” Klishei muttered, kicking at a loose stone. It bounced down the slope, disappearing into the undergrowth.
“Ignorance was their shield, my dear,” La Meiphi said, her hand reaching out to squeeze Klishei’s arm. “They thought it would protect you.”
The path narrowed, winding through a cluster of ancient pines. Beyond them, the trees thinned, revealing a clearing bathed in sunlight.
A lake, still and dark, stretched out before them, reflecting the azure sky like a polished obsidian mirror. Two narrow rivers, silver ribbons, snaked away from its northern edge, carving paths through the distant hills.
And there, rising majestically from the water’s center, were five mountains, stacked one upon the other, their peaks piercing the clouds. The Phoenix’s Nest. It was exactly as depicted in Yeseus’s smudgy sketch, yet infinitely more grand, more real.
“This is it,” Lo Garyan declared.
Klishei felt a strange sensation, like a tuning fork vibrating deep within her bones. The air around the lake shimmered, almost imperceptibly, as if holding its breath.
So, you made it.
The Phoenix’s voice, ancient and resonant, echoed directly in her mind.
You are truly here.
Klishei blinked, a wave of dizziness washing over her. “You sound… different,” she whispered aloud, ignoring her grandparents’ confused glances.
The closer we get to my true home, the more my essence awakens within you. The veil thins.
La Meiphi, noticing Klishei’s pale face, gently touched her forehead. “Are you alright, child? You look a little faint.”
“I’m fine, La,” Klishei assured her, though her voice wavered. She turned her attention back to the lake. “It’s just… it’s a lot to take in.”
Lo Garyan began to unpack the small bundle he carried, revealing an aged, leather-bound book and a small, intricately carved wooden flute. “The chants,” he explained to Klishei, his fingers tracing the faded symbols on the book’s cover. “And the melody to guide her home.”
Klishei walked to the edge of the lake, dipping her fingers into the cool, clear water. It felt alive, humming with a subtle energy.
You intend to send me away without me fulfilling my mission.
The Phoenix’s voice held no anger, only a profound sadness.
“I didn’t ask for this,” Klishei retorted, her voice firm. “I didn’t ask to be a vessel, or a bride, or a baby machine for any species. I just want my life back.”
“Being a vessel, a symbol, a breeding tool? My parents died trying to protect me from that. They believed I deserved to be free. They sacrificed everything for it.” Her voice cracked. "And you expect me to just… surrender to it?”
I expect you to understand the power you hold. The balance you represent. Your parents, they sought to protect you from a destiny they did not comprehend, a destiny greater than any single human life.
“Greater for whom?” Klishei spun around, facing the shimmering air as if she could see the goddess. “For the werewolves who want to use me to create an army? What about my peace?”
Peace is an illusion when the cosmos itself trembles. You are the anchor. The source of renewal. To reject this is to reject the very essence of what you are meant to be.
“You said it yourself, you don’t control who your vessels are. Humans choose you. Well, I’m choosing not to choose you. I’m choosing me.”
The path of a vessel is not always easy. It is a burden, yes, but also a profound privilege. To be the mother of new eras, the hope for fading species…
“Hope for their species, not mine,” Klishei cut her off, her voice dropping to a low, fierce whisper. “I saw what happened to Yeseus when he was with me. The blight, you called it. His immortality, decaying. My presence drains him, drains Angus, Suneia, Naelyr. My existence hurts the people I care about.”
A goddess whose powers are meant to be controlled, channeled, not left to leak uncontrolled through an unprepared vessel. That is why the ascension ritual exists. To allow me to return, to regain my strength, and to allow you to live your human life, untainted. It’s not meant to be the first step.
“Then help me do it,” Klishei pleaded, her voice tinged with desperation. “Help me sever this connection. Let me be free.”
Lo Garyan cleared his throat, pulling Klishei back to the present. “Klishei, child, we should begin. The sun is nearing its zenith, and the fire chants are strongest when the light is pure.” He held up the ancient book, its pages brittle with age.
Klishei looked from her grandfather to the shimmering lake, then back to her grandparents, their faces etched with concern and a deep, unwavering love. They were doing this for her, risking everything to give her a choice.
Think, Klishei. Is this truly the path you wish to take? To walk away from the power to shape your own destiny, to influence the very balance of the cosmos, for a fleeting illusion of freedom?
“It’s not an illusion if it’s what I want,” Klishei said, her voice quiet but resolute. She turned to her grandparents, a small, determined smile on her lips. “Let’s do it, Lo. Let’s send her home.”
Lo Garyan nodded, a flicker of pride in his eyes. He raised the wooden flute to his lips. A soft, melancholic melody drifted across the clearing, a sound that seemed to weave itself into the very fabric of the air, calling to something ancient and profound. Klishei felt the Phoenix stir within her like a bird preparing for flight.
She closed her eyes, ready to let go.