Zachary Scott
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Chapter 117 - Phoenix
🕑 Added 2025-07-24 13:09:55 +0000 UTCCirca
Rock sat on a flat stone to my right, sipping his favorite tea. Loudly.
I tried not to breathe too deeply because the stuff had an earthy scent so strong it burned my nostrils.
Aside from the occasional sip and sigh of Rock, the only sounds were night birds chirping as the sun set and the quiet, cool breeze rustling the grass.
Neither of us said much. We didn’t have to. I’d fought with Rock and chased Forsaken with him by my side enough that we both knew what it all meant, whether we spoke it into words or not. She was growing stronger by the day. It was only a matter of time before the lich returned, and our actions out here each night weren’t going to stop a thing.
We were only delaying the inevitable.
Behind us, Riverwell was a small dot at least two miles in the distance. It looked quaint from so far. From here, one could imagine it was the same charming little outpost town it had been on my first arrival. Nothing but wooden buildings with thatched roofs surrounded by wooden walls. A place where soft yellow light glowed in the occasional window and the burbling stream ran through the center of town.
One could imagine it wasn’t nearly a ghost town now. That news of the lich after the infestation hadn’t scared the majority of those with the strength to flee into evacuating and abandoning their homes. They could imagine more didn’t leave each night, slipping away under cover of dark, knowing full well they were unlikely to survive the journey through the Black Wood or the grassy hills in the other directions.
No… These were not happy days. They were dark times. Grim times.
I turned my eyes from the town and toward the high hill. It was where they would come if tonight was anything like the others.
But I knew it would be. It was always the same.
They came every night. And every night, there were more of them. Every night, they seemed a little stronger. A little more fierce.
Despite the dire implications, the waves of undead that came hunting toward the town each night were fortunate in one regard. They provided regular experience and levels. They gave me a chance to experiment and test my abilities in life-or-death situations each night. Situations where Rock could sit nearby and intervene if necessary.
But how long could Rock afford to let me practice by myself? How long before his strength was needed from the start? And how long after that before his strength wouldn’t be enough?
Familiar frustration blossomed in my chest at the thoughts.
It felt incredibly strange to know I was Wood Rank again. To know the power of Silver Rank for so long and then return to this point of weakness was a daily torture. I felt like a bird with clipped wings. But I was doing everything I could to reclaim my power as fast as possible. And once I realized I had a new class to learn, the urgency to train and practice had grown tenfold.
It still made no sense. An individual’s class was locked in the moment they bound their first corestone. The Heart corestone Rock brought me once I’d recovered enough to train had been blank. So how in the name of the gods had I developed an entirely new class?
“Hungry?” Rock asked, offering me an oversized mushroom that looked slightly soggy and damp from being stuffed in his belt pouch.
“I’m fine,” I said, though it wasn’t entirely true. Physically, I had the body of a girl who was maybe sixteen or eighteen, probably still growing. Gods knew I was hungry all the time. But I also wasn’t about to make the mistake of eating one of Rock’s mushrooms again, either.
Some errors only needed to be made once.
We sat a while longer, watching the sky darken and the stars begin to twinkle. I felt a moment of sadness as I stared up at them, wondering if it was a trick of my mind, or if there really were fewer of them now than there used to be. From the way my mother told it, there certainly were. And her mother had spoke of days when there had been more stars in the sky than sand on the beaches. Surely, it had been an exaggeration, but I did often wonder…
Black shapes gathered at the top of the far hill. Hunched, long-armed things with eyes that glowed an eerie blue, briefly making it look as though the stars themselves were rising from behind the hill and beginning to descend toward us.
Palefiends.
I stood, gripped the bladed staff I’d had made in town, and readied myself for the fight.
“Same as usual?” Rock asked, still sipping his tea as if dozens of palefiends weren’t galloping toward our position.
“Yes,” I said, stepping forward.
Holding the staff in one hand, I produced a small knife and dragged it down my palm, watching orange fire blossom from the cut instead of blood. I held my hand high, activated Flame Conversion so my own blood wouldn’t burn me, and let it drip to the ground.
I smeared burning blood across the tip of my bladed staff, wreathing the weapon in sticky flames that lit the darkness around me, temporarily making it harder to see the approaching enemy until my eyes adjusted.
Flames.
These were my tools of war now. The language of this new, strange class I’d been granted instead of the Lifeweaver class I’d spent my life mastering.
In a way, it made sense. I’d been reborn from a divine Phoenix’s Egg. And now I bore the class to match my rebirth.
Phoenix.
It was a Legendary Heart class, and I was still doing my best to get used to the abilities.
The first palefiend leapt for me. I used Phoenix Shield, conjuring a pair of burning wings that folded in front of me, forming a protective semi-circle of flames.
The wings looked like fire but had the properties of thick molasses. The palefiend’s arm punched into them, slowing dramatically as it screeched and pulled back, arm encased in clinging flames that quickly turned flesh to bone and then bone to ash.
I ended its misery with a swipe of my staff, removing its head, which flew to one side trailing flames.
I dismissed the shield. The palefiends were smart enough to avoid attacking it on purpose. I needed to wait until they were mid-strike. I also knew my mana supply was as good as my lifeblood. When it ran dry, everything ended.
Two more beasts came into range. I ducked the first swipe, spun and cut one down at the knees, and took a deep gash to my back from a third I hadn’t seen coming.
Fire sprayed from my wound, catching a palefiend on the face and chest.
It went down screaming as I speared another through the neck.
Swipe, spin, dodge, stab, thrust. I moved with a practiced rhythm, fighting to keep myself bathed in a sense of calm despite the chaos and fear pounding deeper within me.
Two palefiends rushed forward in tandem. I wrapped myself in Phoenix Shield. I made the wings lash out, sending one creature flying into a tree with a wet, flaming crunch. The other went down, bathed in flames that eroded its flesh and bones in seconds.
Rock sat on a fallen log thirty feet away, examining his fingernails with the dedication of someone with absolutely nothing better to do.
I settled back into a battle trance, letting instincts guide my movements. I used my staff when I could, the flaming wings of Phoenix Shield when necessary, and enjoyed the benefits of Flame Conversion to heal my wounds with flame when I suffered injuries.
Even after months of practice, it went against my instincts to see flames as a source of healing, but that was exactly how the ability worked. The damage flames normally caused was reversed for me, meaning the hotter the flame, the more quickly it would heal my wounds.
It also meant by the time the fight had gone on for a few minutes, I was a living ball of flame, probably looking more like an elemental creature than a human. The flame blood was sticky and burned for minutes. As I suffered more wounds, my own burning blood coated myself and slowly turned my own body into a deadly weapon.
I could fling a hand out and spray droplets of flames on my enemies, kick a leg and spray them, or spin my body and create a ring of flames around myself. And the fiery death I released for them only accelerated my healing.
And so I fought like a demon, cutting them down or burning them to ash as they continued to charge.
My blade carved through rotting flesh as I spun, leaving trails of fire from the cuts on my arms where their claws had found gaps in my defense. The Burning Blood hissed as it hit the wet earth, creating small pools of liquid flame that made the creatures stumble back and filled the air with the scent of smoke and ash.
But there were more of them than I’d expected tonight. Far more.
I kept spinning and cutting, but I could feel my mana dwindling. I stopped using Phoenix Shield, but maintaining Flame Conversion was a constant drain on my reserves.
“You good?” Rock asked, and I heard him loudly sipping his tea from a safe distance.
“Fine,” I gritted, though I knew I wasn’t. I’d pushed it too far.
I sliced through a palefiend, sprayed another with flame blood, and then took a deep gash to my leg that almost instantly healed in the roaring flames that were starting to surround not just me, but the whole area I’d been fighting in.
When my mana ran dry, Flame Conversion would end, and the flames that were healing me would burn me just like the palefiends. It was the cruel reality of this legendary class I’d unlocked.
Once I was coated in burning blood, there was no going back. Every fight ended in my own death. The only question was how many enemies I could take down before it happened.
Thank the gods for the legendary passive ability the class had come with.
“Oh, she’s doing it again,” Rock sighed to himself. I could hear him gathering his things and setting down his tea.
I mentally tried to brace myself for the moment my mana ran out. There was no stopping it. No preventative measure. I was covered in flaming blood that would still burn for several minutes. Rolling wouldn’t put it out. Water didn’t even extinguish it. Time was the only way to end these flames, and I had run out.
My mana ran dry and the warm refreshing glow of the flames turned to white-hot agony in an instant.
I tried to keep fighting, but there was no use.
The only mercy was how quick death came. The flames burned so hot that my nerves didn’t even have time to register the pain before they were burned to nothing. All I ever felt was a brief spike of alarm followed by a moment of absolute darkness.
I felt nothing for a time. Knew nothing.
Death wasn’t new to me anymore. The first time—the real time—had been terrifying. The lich’s magic tearing through my defenses, the cold spreading through my limbs, the desperate wish that I’d made different choices.
Deep down, I’d known I had the egg. I’d known it should save me, but I hadn’t known at what cost. I hadn’t fully believed it would work.
Now I died every night. Reborn with my Legendary Passive ability called Phoenix Rebirth. Once per night, I could be reborn, but at a cost.
For seconds or maybe even a minute, I could feel my consciousness drifting with the ashes that were my body, swirling and gathering as they reformed.
It was a state almost like sleep. It was peaceful. A brief reprieve from the horror of my waking hours, even.
And there was something I didn’t tell anyone. Not even Rock.
In these fleeting moments, I often saw things. Visions of possible futures, perhaps? Or simple dreams? I couldn’t say. But part of the reason I fought to the point of death each night was for the potential to glimpse more hints about what might come.
I was vaguely aware of Rock stepping carefully around the flames to finish off the palefiends with his magically humming quarterstaff—of the sound it made when he hit them with so much force their bodies exploded.
Just as the ashes began to condense and I could feel my consciousness growing brighter, I had another vision.
I saw two beings advancing slowly. They looked human. Almost human, at least. The man was almost pure blackness with white pits for eyes. The woman was pure white with black eyes. Neither wore any clothing but their bodies were somehow muted and smooth, almost like children’s dolls.
They stepped out from a gaping rift larger than anything I’d ever seen or heard of, and through the rift behind them I could see an entire world crumbling to pieces, spikes of white and black energy swirling and smashing it apart.
The black one smiled, his teeth eerily white against his faintly glowing skin.
The white one smiled, too, and her teeth were black, as if she’d dyed them in the blackest ink.
A figure drifted down from the sky to face them, and I knew him instantly.
Ithariel.
And somehow, I could feel the difference in power. God or not, Ithariel was too dim. Too faint. These beings were like stars. Their power was overwhelming. So bright it was hard to look at them, even in this dream-like state.
And I knew Ithariel stood no chance. I knew he was going to die if he faced them.
And then my body reformed in a golden glow of flame and heat.
I collapsed on the grass several dozen feet from where I died. My mana was completely empty and my body felt weak, as if I hadn’t eaten for days. Rock was still finishing off the palefiends as my clothing reformed in a few seconds.
Dying in flames and being reborn left me completely nude, so an outfit of self-repairing clothing had been a priority investment Rock helped me acquire weeks ago.
By the time he turned to face me, I was clothed, but barely able to stand.
“You should try not dying,” Rock said, giving his quarterstaff a shake that splattered black palefiend blood into nearby flames. They hissed and disappeared in a puff of steam. “Have you considered it?”
I glared at him. “I need to get used to dying. To all of this. That’s why you’re here to clean up what I can’t finish.”
“Hm. Silver Rank dying to Wood Rank palefiends night after night. This is embarrassing.”
“I’m not Silver anymore,” I said, walking to pick up my bladed quarterstaff from where it fell. I thought twice, leaving it to cool down for a while. I’d had it specially made to withstand intense heat, but I would burn myself badly if I tried to carry it at the moment, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to recover any mana until tomorrow to use Flame Conversion. “Yet.”
“Was more beasts tonight. Yes?”
He was right. I nodded. “She’s getting stronger. Faster than I am, I fear.” I was distracted, though. I kept replaying the vision I’d seen. The black man and the white woman. What the hells were those? Could they really have been so powerful to dwarf even a god? It had to be symbolic, rather than literal. Maybe the vision was some sort of warning, but what?
I supposed I had more immediate issues, though. If these attacks kept getting more severe at the rate they had, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hold them off much longer, let alone leave to go find Seraphel and offer what help I could.
“Should tell Riverwell to run,” Rock suggested. “Then we can leave.”
“And what happens if Riverwell evacuates but the next town doesn’t? She’ll only continue to spread her influence. Do you know what would happen if we left a lich unchecked to grow and feed like that, Rock?”
“Rock knows. But Rock is hungry and misses cooking from home.”
I sighed. I’d kept him away from his home for too long. I knew I had. But we couldn’t count on the Inner Rings to send any help. And there was something different about this lich. She seemed more intelligent than most Forsaken. More clever.
I feared she could advance to Gold or even Diamond at alarming speeds if we left her to her own devices and went begging for help. Even then, I knew how difficult it was to get even a Silver dispatched to put down Forsaken. A Diamond level Forsaken was the sort of thing whispered about in old stories, the kind of thing the gods themselves would have needed to get involved with to avoid massive casualties.
“Not everything is Circa’s problem,” Rock said after a few moments.
“I didn’t ask for this,” I snapped, then immediately regretted it. Rock had been nothing but helpful, brewing my aging potions, watching my back, tolerating my presence in his life. Delaying his return to his home for my sake.
“No,” he agreed. “But you are always trying to sacrifice yourself. This pattern could make a tomte wonder if you would rather be dead. It is… ironic that you keep coming back to life, isn’t it?”
I gave him a side eye. Ironic? More like tragic. But I wasn’t going to say it. If my role here was to suffer for the greater good, I could bear it. As long as my suffering meant something. As long as it mattered.
My whole life, I’d been trained for one purpose—to aid Seraphel when he returned. Generations of my family had lived and died waiting. When I’d rejected that destiny to hunt Forsaken, I thought I was choosing freedom.
Then I’d met Brynn, recognized him for what he was, and now…
I felt less free than I ever had. I was shackled to a purpose greater than myself. A purpose that would keep putting me in harm’s way and in front of more impossible choices. But what else could I do? I knew I couldn’t live with myself trying to pretend these problems didn’t exist.
I stood slowly, legs still shaky. “I need to get stronger. Faster. We need to start training in the Black Wood during the day. We can come here at night.”
“Rock will suggest you do not die while training in the Black Wood, then. Only one death per day, hm?”
“Thank you for the reminder,” I said sourly.
As we walked back toward Riverwell, I felt my thoughts drifting back to the vision. Those figures of black and white. The eye-watering sense of impossible power churning within both of them.
I thought of the vision I’d had last night, too. Of Seraphell—of Brynn.
I’d seen him fighting the lich. But he looked different—older, harder, wreathed in strange energies I didn’t recognize. He had become so terrifyingly powerful, but so had she. Their powers clashed in titanic waves, so immense I knew a lesser being would be torn apart to even approach the battle.
I’d tried to scream a warning, tried to move, but I was frozen. Watching as the lich’s claws swept toward his throat—
“Rock,” I said as we reached the town’s outskirts. “I think something terrible is coming. Something worse than the lich.”
“Yes,” he said simply. “Allow me to ease your mind with a joke of maximum humor level. The joke is this. I would rather the world does not end because I wish to plant a mushroom farm. I cannot eat mushrooms if the world has ended.” He turned toward me, craggy features expectant as he waited for feedback.
Despite everything, I smiled. “That’s terrible.”
“Your opinion is noted. It is also incorrect. I will save this joke for my people when I return home. Many faces will consider smiling.”
We walked in comfortable silence for a while. Tomorrow, I’d hunt more palefiends. I’d grow stronger. I’d die and return and die again if necessary.
Because Brynn was out there somewhere, becoming something I didn’t recognize. And when the real threats came—the figures from my nightmare, the lich with her growing army—he’d need allies.
“Rock?”
“Mm?”
“Thank you. For everything.”
He grunted. “Do not thank me. Tomorrow you’ll probably die again. Very tedious.”
But I caught the slight smile before he turned away, and I knew he’d be there tomorrow too. Sitting on his log, pretending not to care, ready to save me when I inevitably needed it.
Just like I hoped I might be there, ready to save Seraphel or even this world when the time came.
Comments
James Williams
I really love this, I wish I could get more
Ben Bass
TYFTC! Great to see Circe again, Very interesting to see how drastically she has changed with the phoenix core. Now did we get our first glimpse of what drove Brynn and the other gods to reset themselves?
