The Origin of the Dark Phoenix

  Excerpt from the Book of Mythical Beasts

  Long ago, in a small, forgotten village, two twin sisters were born under very different stars. The elder sister was tall and radiant, her beauty and charm winning the affection of the villagers and her parents. They showered her with love and attention, seeing her as their ticket to prosperity. The younger sister, however, was frail and sickly. Her small frame and pallor marked her as a burden. To her parents, she was a source of shame, a curse that dragged them down.

  When the church came to their village, seeking potential recruits for its holy order, they immediately selected the elder sister. Her departure was met with celebration from the family and the village, her parents basking in the prestige it brought them. Meanwhile, the younger sister’s existence became unbearable. No longer able to stomach her presence, the parents concocted a plan.

  They dragged her into the dark forest, a place teeming with monsters and wild beasts, and left her there. As they turned their backs on their child, the mother muttered, “Let the gods decide what to do with you.”

  Days passed. In that time, a majestic phoenix, disguised as a common bird, had been scouring the woods. She was drawn to the girl’s hauntingly beautiful songs, a melody that seemed to speak directly to the hearts of birds. Yet, no matter how far she searched, she found no sign of the child—only a bloodied scrap of fabric caught on a branch.

  Enraged, the phoenix transformed into her true form and descended on the village. Disguised as a noblewoman, she stormed the family’s home, demanding the truth.

  When the parents admitted their crime with sneering indifference, the phoenix’s feathers turned black with fury. Her golden eyes darkened to amethyst, and flames erupted around her as she revealed her true form.

  The parents screamed, but their cries were drowned by the roar of the phoenix’s flames. When the fires subsided, nothing remained of their home but ash. The phoenix carried the girl’s spirit with her, vowing to protect her essence for eternity. Thus, the Dark Phoenix was born, a creature fueled by grief and vengeance.

  The ash that was once Muiren swirled in the wind, carried like the remnants of a dying storm. My breath came in shallow gasps, my chest heaving from the strain of the battle. My body was battered, my mana reserves depleted, and my mind was reeling.

  Yet, as I stared at the remnants of the evil god, I felt no victory. There was no triumph, no relief—only a hollow ache in my chest. The air was heavy with loss, the ground still trembling faintly as if mourning Zotherg’s sacrifice.

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  Muiren’s vessel was gone, dissolved into nothingness, but his essence lingered, a dark presence that sent a shiver down my spine. I could feel it in the air, like a shadow that refused to fade. His final words echoed in my mind, a grim reminder that gods could not truly die.

  I turned to face the others. My kin stood frozen, their faces pale with shock. I could see it in their eyes—they were afraid of me. They had seen my rage, the darkness I had unleashed, and it had shaken them to their core.

  “It’s over,” I called out, my voice steady but hollow. “Muiren is gone. The one who took Zotherg from us has been punished.”

  No one moved. Silence hung over the battlefield like a heavy fog. Then, a single clap broke through the stillness. I turned to see Grillo, his face streaked with soot and blood, clapping slowly.

  Others began to join in, their applause hesitant at first but growing louder with each beat. I stared in disbelief as the entire village began to cheer. They weren’t condemning me—they were celebrating our survival.

  Relief washed over me, though it was tinged with a bitter edge. For the first time, I realized how much I’d feared their rejection. My shoulders sagged, the tension I hadn’t even noticed finally releasing.

  As the cheers subsided, I approached the injured. My father lay on a makeshift mat, his face pale but his breathing steady. My mother knelt beside him, her hands glowing faintly as she worked to heal his wounds.

  “Father,” I said, my voice low but firm. “What have you been hiding from me?”

  He avoided my gaze, his face twisting with regret. “I thought if I didn’t tell you, it would keep you safe,” he said after a long pause. “I thought everything would be fine as long as you didn’t know.”

  “Know what?” I pressed, my patience wearing thin.

  He sighed, his eyes finally meeting mine. “I am the nephew of the last king,” he admitted. “And you, my son, are the rightful heir to the throne.”

  His words hit me like a hammer. “Wait... what? Wouldn’t that make you the king?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Only one with great magic can claim the crown. I’ve never possessed that gift. But you...” His voice faltered. “Muiren must have known. That’s why he came after you. If he’d killed you, the prophecy would have been broken, and the last of our line would have been lost.”

  The pieces began to fall into place. Muiren had targeted us not just because of the curse but because of our lineage. He had pieced together the truth, using it to destroy the prophecy before it could come to pass.

  I clenched my fists, the weight of my lineage settling heavily on my shoulders. The prophecy had marked me as the savior of my people, but now I understood the cost.

  “I see,” I said quietly, my voice heavy with resolve. “Then I’ll do what must be done.”

  For the rest of the day, we worked tirelessly to tend to the injured and salvage what we could from the ruins of our village. The damage was extensive, but we were alive. That had to count for something.

  As night fell, I found myself sitting alone, Zotherg’s soul stone resting in my hands. The faint light within it was nearly gone, his mana leaking out like a dying ember.

  “I’ll find a way to save you,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I promise.”

  The stone didn’t respond, but I held it close, clinging to the hope that Zotherg’s sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain.

  Above me, the stars shone brightly, their light cutting through the darkness. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I allowed myself to hope.