Chapter 29 The Rogue Wolfling
The chanting wove a tapestry of ancient sound, a hum that vibrated deep within Klishei’s bones. Her grandparents, Lo Garyan and La Meiphi, sat cross-legged around her, their voices a steady drone against the rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of unseen insects.
She lay on a bed of fragrant herbs, eyes closed, her body a mere shell. Her consciousness, however, had slipped free, drifting through a swirling vortex of colors until it settled in a space that defied all earthly logic.
Crimson light pulsed around her, warm and alive, yet without heat. The air shimmered, thick with a scent like burnt sugar and ozone. Before her, a figure coalesced from the flickering light. Not a woman, not a bird, but something in between, a living flame given form. Its eyes, twin embers, held the wisdom of eons.
“You have returned,” a voice echoed, not from her mouth, but from the very air around her. It was the same ancient voice, now amplified, resonating through her very being.
Klishei felt no fear, only a profound sense of recognition. “I have.”
The fiery form swirled, tendrils of light reaching out, not touching, but enveloping her in a sense of immense power. “This is your last chance, Klishei Aizal. The final offer. Embrace me. Become the Phoenix, the mother of entities, the balance of the cosmos. Your grandparents’ ritual, their devotion, it can be repurposed. You can ascend, not to leave, but to reign.”
Klishei stood firm, her human spirit a tiny, unyielding spark against the cosmic inferno. “Reign? As what? A breeding machine? A tool for others’ power?” Her voice, though small, carried conviction. “No.”
The flame pulsed, a silent question.
“You spoke of a heart for greatness,” Klishei continued, a memory of the burning house flashing through her mind. “You said I chose you. You said I was strong.”
A low, resonant hum filled the space, a sound that could be amusement or challenge.
An image shimmered into her mind’s eye: her grandparents, their faces etched with concentration, their hands clasped in prayer. They sat in the fading light, shadows lengthening around them, their figures steadfast against the encroaching night. Time inside the dimension was twice faster than in the human world. It was already nighttime outside. “They believe they are sending you back,” the Phoenix observed, its voice tinged with an unreadable emotion. “They believe they are freeing you.”
“And they are,” Klishei shot back, her resolve hardening. “I refuse to be a prize, a vessel, a pawn for any faction. Not for werewolves, not for dragon kings, and not for the cosmos. My choice is to be human. And that choice I share with you.”
The fiery form seemed to shrink, its intensity softening. “Me?”
“Yes,” Klishei affirmed. “Free yourself from the burden of bringing another generation of whatever Entity takes hold of you. You are a goddess, a fiery Phoenix, a free spirit. The world didn’t end when vessels refused you how many times already. On behalf of the ladies who were before me, this is what I will say—your choice deserves to be honored.”
A long silence stretched between them, marked only by the gentle, constant thrum of the crimson light. Klishei felt a strange sense of peace, a quiet triumph. The Phoenix, the ancient deity, finally smiled in a humanoid form..
“You are indeed the best vessel,” the Phoenix said, its voice now softer, almost wistful. “Others have rejected me because they were afraid. For the first time, I am being rejected because my feelings were considered.”
The crimson light around them began to recede, the scent of ozone fading. Klishei felt a pull, a gentle tug back towards her body.
“Go,” the Phoenix commanded, its voice now a warm whisper, like embers settling. “Live your life, Klishei Aizal. Live it fully. And know that in your choice, you have already balanced a part of the cosmos.”
Klishei smiled. “Thank you. So what happens after this?”
The Phoenix closed her eyes. “It will be just a waiting game, Klishei. Just a little while longer and the portal of the Cosmos will open. Then I can return.”
A piercing shriek ripped through the serene night.
It was a sound of raw, predatory hunger, a sound that tore through the ancient chanting of her grandparents.
Klishei’s eyes snapped open. The world rushed back in a jarring, chaotic torrent. The quiet hum of the ritual shattered. Her body convulsed, a jolt of pure energy surging through her. The air crackled with cosmic force, raw and untamed.
Above her, the night sky blazed. Not one, but two golden moons hung, enormous and luminous, casting an unnatural, ethereal glow over the mountains. Their light pulsed, bathing the landscape in an otherwordly light.
“No!” La Meiphi screamed, her voice hoarse with terror.
Lo Garyan, ax in hand, stood over Klishei, his frame trembling but unyielding. His eyes, usually kind, were now narrowed, fixed on the edge of the forest.
A guttural growl ripped through the air, closer this time, accompanied by the snapping of branches.
“Daevar,” Klishei whispered, her voice barely a breath. The name tasted like ash on her tongue.
A colossal shadow detached itself from the deeper gloom of the trees. It moved with a swift, silent menace, its form a grotesque parody of a man. Hair sprouted in thick, dark patches, muscles bulged, and its eyes, glinting gold in the dual moonlight, burned with an unholy fire. Claws, long and obsidian, scraped against the earth as it stalked forward.
“The Phoenix,” Daevar rumbled, his voice deep, gravelly, vibrating with an insatiable craving. His gaze, fixed on Klishei, was pure hunger. “Mine.”
He lunged.
Lo Garyan roared, a primal sound of defiance, and swung his ax. The metal bit into the werewolf’s shoulder with a sickening thud, but Daevar barely flinched. He backhanded the old man, sending him sprawling like a broken doll.
“Lo!” Klishei cried, a surge of protective fury igniting within her.
La Meiphi, snatching up a random stick, charged, swinging wildly. Daevar caught her arm, his grip like steel, and tossed her aside. She landed with a gasp, unmoving.
Klishei scrambled to her feet.
Daevar stalked towards her, his amber eyes gleaming. “The ascension ritual is broken, little bird. Let’s do a different one. Finally, I will be able to mark you.” He took another step, his shadow falling over her. “You will give birth to my Lycans.”
Klishei met his gaze, her own eyes blazing with an anger she hadn’t known she possessed.
“Never.”