#mysterythief writes

[mysterythief]

This got long, so I also put it on A03. I'm going to split it into 3 different reblogs here, so make sure you check them all out.

Raising Phoenix

The god stood behind you. You didn’t need to turn to know he was there.

“This will hurt,” he whispered.

You nodded as you rocked back and forth in front of the fire, gently stroking the small girl’s blond hair. She was small enough she fit on your lap, where she had fallen asleep after you had cleaned her up and fed her. She couldn’t be more than 2 or 3. Left on the side of the road covered in ash and blood. You did the only thing you could.

You brought her home.

“What will you call her?” he questioned.

“Phoenix,” was your only response, as the god softly put his hand on your shoulder before vanishing into the night.

***

Phoenix’s laughter rose through the air as she toddled along the road, her tiny right hand tightly clenching two of your fingers while her left pointed out a passing butterfly. Sixth months had passed since you had brought her home, and she was vibrant toddler, lively as ever.

“Fly.” She stated, looking up at you expectantly.

“Yes, Phoenix. The butterfly flies.” You laugh softly.

“Fly.” She repeated again, this time gesturing you to pick her up.

“Ahh, my precious Phoenix longs to fly, yes?” You question as you swiftly pick her up, throwing her up into the air and catching her.

“Fly! Fly!” She giggled and squealed. “Again! Fly!”

You threw her into the air a few more times, letting her laughter and your smile fly with her, until it grew dark.

“Again!” Her cry was softer, having tired herself out.

You kissed the top of her head. “You are the most vibrant bird in the sky my Phoenix. And you will fly above them all. But now it’s time for dinner and bed.”

***

“Tell me a story Father?” Phoenix asked, as you tucked her into bed.

You brushed her blond curls away from her face, amazed that it had already been 3 years since you had brought her home. You licked your finger and dabbed at her chin, where leftover crumbs lay from your celebration dinner earlier that night.

“And what story should I tell you daughter?”

“Tell me about the phoenix.”

You paused and waited expectantly.

“Please.” She added, still learning her manners.

“Very well. Since you asked so nicely, I must oblige.” You responded with a soft smile.

“Unlike other birds, who hatch once their mother has laid an egg, the phoenix is born from the blood and ash of a fire. Covered in soot the phoenix rises. It starts small, a dark little thing, with very little wings.” You put your arms close to your body, mimicking little wings, as Phoenix giggles.

“As the phoenix grows, it become the color of fire. Bringing light wherever it goes as its wings expand to protect those it loves.” You spread your arms out wide as wings. Purposefully placing them in front of Phoenix.

“When the phoenix has lived life to the fullest, it burst into flames, leaving behind blood and ashes for the phoenix to rise again.”

“Why did you name me Phoenix?” The question comes suddenly, as if it had just occurred to the girl.

You smile sadly at your little girl, just barely six, and yet the brightest thing in your world. “I named you Phoenix, because you brought light into my life,” you lied.

She nodded, as if that made sense in her little world, already drifting to sleep as you kissed her goodnight.

***

“Father! Father!” Phoenix crowed as she ran with her water pail to the garden where you were planting the springs crop.

“What, my bright bird?” You questioned as you dug another hole and planted more seeds.

“You’ll never guess what happened while I was gathering water at the stream Father!” 10-year-old Phoenix knelt down next to you, pouring some water into the hole, before helping you cover it with dirt and repeating the process.

“Did you see the fawns again?” You questioned with a loving smile at your happy girl.

“Nope, not the fawns. Though I think they’re still close by.” She shook her head enthusiastically.

“Then did you find a special rock?” You threw out another guess of her favorite things.

“Not today.”

“Then you best just tell me as I’ll likely never guess at this rate.” You laughed; a deep hearty laugh that you haven’t heard in years.

“Jonny Wood kissed me!! On the cheek! It was on a dare from Brock, the tailor’s boy. But he still kissed me! I told him he better watch out cause you’re the strongest man around, and don’t take kindly to boys fooling around with my heart…”

You listened intently as your little girl talked about Jonny Wood the neighbor boy. How she absolutely did not like him back (she did, she just didn’t know it yet). And you wondered how you got to be here so soon. Worrying about boys.

You reveled in it all as you spent the afternoon gardening with your Phoenix, even if you were going to go have a talk with Jonny’s dad later. But for now, it was worth seeing your daughter’s wings as she grew. 

***

Phoenix spun in the common room, in front of the unlit fire place, her new gown of yellow and red flowers spinning around her.

“Oh, Father it’s perfect! Thank you so much!” Phoenix spun towards you, holding her arms out in front of her to grab you around the neck in an embrace. At 15 now, she was a stunning young woman, but still short enough that she had to stand on her tip-toes to hung you.

You treasured her hug, knowing that they wouldn’t last much longer.

“Anything for you, my shining light in the sky.” You push her back from you gently, looking into her bright, youthful face as you cupped it in your own hand. Strange, how not so long ago she was just a toddler, and now she was a growing woman.

“Now I know you’ve been practicing, but show me what you’ve got,” you insisted as you reached down to place one of her hands on your shoulder and you grabbed the other one in your own as you softly placed your own hand on her hip.

You twirled around the room together. Phoenix humming the lullaby you used to sing for her when she was young.

And you selfishly wished your girl could stay this young a little longer.

***

Phoenix married Jonny Wood before the first frost came. At 20 now, a full-grown woman, and still you felt she was too young for marriage. But she loved him, and you knew he would treat her right, so you let her leave the nest.

When the spring came, you helped Jonny build a home for them on his father’s land, while Phoenix knit clothes for the baby to come that winter. When it was finished, she kissed your cheek like she used to when she was little.

“It’s perfect Father. Thank you,” she whispered.

“Anything for you to spread your wings and fly my bright light,” you whispered back.

***

Phoenix grew too fast, and you didn’t age a day. 4 children were near full grown when the sickness came. Phoenix was in her 50’s now, her hair beginning to grey.

“Please, tell me Father,” she coughed. “Tell me again why you named me Phoenix?”

You held her too white hand in your own as you sat by her bedside.

“I named you Phoenix, because you brought light into my life.”  You repeated as you had many times in the past.

“Father, I’m no longer a little girl. I have lived a full life, and I know that’s not the whole reason why you named me.

Please.

Tell me.

Why did you name me Phoenix?” she begged.

“I named you Phoenix, because you brought light into my life. And because I knew you would rise from the blood and ash I found you in to fly,” you cried.

Phoenix cupped her hand around your face, tears streaming from her eyes as she brushed the ones dripping down your cheek. “Then I will rise and fly again Father,” she promised.

You burned Phoenix’s body in her favorite pasture and you didn’t leave until all that was left was ashes.

The abandoned child you’ve taken in sleeps on your lap as the god who gave you immortality softly warns you. “This will hurt.”

[mysterythief]

Something something Agatha as Elphaba because she was born the way she was and unable to control it. She was hated by her mother from birth, and has never been able to hold onto those she loves without hurting them. She lets herself be evil because no one mourns the wicked in the end.

Something something Lilia as Glinda because she sees the sorrow, grief, and pain carried by her best friend. She sees that Agatha wasn’t born wicked, but had wickedness thrust upon her. She disagrees with some of her actions, but she loves her anyway. And in the end she’ll will sacrifice what she must so her friends can be happy.

Something something Jen as the Evil Queen because she’s obsessed with beauty and herself. She is bound by her self love and when she learns to look outside the mirror she will unlock great power.

Something something Billy as Maleficent because he’s an outcast amongst witches (not truly part of the coven, had to invite himself to the party), and because there is a dragon hiding within him, waiting to be unleashed.

[mysterythief]

THIS!!!

Character development happens within the lines, not between them. Take for example my latest Percy Jackson Fic I’m working on.

How it started/outline:

So Percy had done the hardest thing in the world for him. He’d planned ahead.

Step 1. Design the ring and ring case.

He had asked Leo and Piper for help on the designs.

They ended with a simple, elegant, and durable band of interlocking blue and silver. A warriors wedding band. It wouldn’t get in the way of a fight, but still symbolized Percy and Annabeth’s deep connection.

How it’s going:

So Percy had done the hardest thing in the world for him. He’d planned ahead.

Step 1. Design the ring and ring case.

He had asked Leo and Piper for help on the designs.

“Bro really?! Who else have you told? Cause if I’m the first one then Hazel owes me $20 bucks” Leo spurted out, doing a little jig around the main floor of Bunker 9 where they were camped out, fire shooting from his fingertips like little sparklers.

“Na man” Percy laughed. “Gover’s known for years. I told him a month ago that I was going to officially do it.”

Leo’s firework display stopped, though he still wore his classic elvish grin. “Now why do you have to go and do me like that Percy? I could be $20 richer.”

Piper interrupted by tackle hugging Percy. “I’m soo excited for you. Have you thought about what you want for the design?”

“A little” Percy sheepishly pulled out a paper, “But, I’m no artist, so I just wrote down some ideas. I thought you guys could help.”

Leo pulled out a sketch pad and set it on a work table towards the back of the room. “Uncle Leo is going to design you the best ring ever. Celestial bronze to withstand a beating, but still flexible so it automatically adjusts sizes and doesn’t cause any discomfort, oh and we could throw in a secret weapon compartment like poison gas or make it an Archimedes sphere, or…”

Piper elbowed Leo in the gut. “That’s quite enough of all that. Let’s at least hear what Percy wants first before you go all ballistic on the design.”

Percy was grinning from ear to ear. He was so happy to have his friends here and willing to help him planning this proposal. Even if that meant that Leo was going to shoot off a thousand different crazy ideas on how to weaponize a wedding ring. (Though Percy wasn’t totally against the idea.)

He realized that Piper was staring at him expectantly, so Percy handed her the list he had pulled out.

“I want to keep it pretty simple. Durable like Leo was saying. And I really like the adjustable idea. I was thinking two interlocking bands, one silver and one blue.” Percy shuffled his feet nervously.

Even in front of his friends he wasn’t sure he was doing the whole romance thing right. That was why he had asked Piper to come. Plus Piper had become one of Annabeth’s best friends. If anyone would know Annabeth as much as Percy did, it would be Piper.

“I think that’s lovely.” Piper smiled. “Silver for Athena and Blue for Poseidon. Intertwined together like you and Annabeth are tied together. She’ll love that.”

Hearing those words from Piper a well or worry melted from Percy’s chest. He had been soo nervous about his idea, and if he was presuming too much, or not putting enough thought into it. Sometimes dating the smartest girl in the world could be hard.

Leo had been furiously sketching while Percy and Piper talked. He stood back from the sketch pad, held out his arms, and exclaimed “Voila! Uncle Leo has done it again! Behold my latest masterpieces in couples jewelry.”

Percy and Piper lean to look at the sketch.

Leo really had designed a master piece. Annabeth’s ring was thin, but sturdy and elegant. The two strands of celestial bronze, one dyed silver the other blue, wove in and out together in waves, creating infinity symbols over and over again.

Its pair matched it in quality. The second ring was slightly thicker, with three layers forged into one. Celestial bronze of blue, silver, then blue again.

“Who’s the second ring for?” Percy asked

“You dummy. You’ll need a wedding band as well woln’t you?” Leo raised his eyebrow at his friend, then made a face at Piper that said ‘This guy really thinks he’s ready to get married?’ “I figured we’d keep it on theme. Interlocking bands for Annabeth, and silver sandwiched in blue for you to represent how Annabeth will always be your heart.”

“Leo!” Piper exclaimed

“What?!”

“That is actually very sweet!”

“Hey! I can do sweet things. The Valdezinator is all about sweet and lovey.”

Percy just laughed. “Clearly I haven’t thought that far ahead yet, but you’re the man Leo. These look great!” Percy gave him a fist bump.

*back to our regularly scheduled rant*

These say the exact same things in terms of the plot progressing. But the second one gives you sooo much more characterization. You feel the happiness of the friends in doing this together and the slight nervousness and inability to fully plan things through that is Percy Jackson.

Write the dialogue. Write the characters. Give them a home, friends, feelings, life. Write the filler where it brings your story to life.

crying and sobbing y'all when people said that you only add scenes that advance the plot they didn't JUST mean the overarching plot. they meant the plot of the book... entirely. like a conversation between two friends can advance the plot by characterizing them and grounding them with a meaningful relationship. if your book doesn't have "filler" it's missing emotional beats. which are plot. which are important. fun and whimsy aren't mutually exclusive from what "needs" to happen in your book. the advice isn't bad it's just taken too literally stop come back.

[mysterythief]

Anakin’s brain was trying to break through his eyes. He could feel the pressure pounding against his skin with each step he took away from his barracks.

His latest campaign at Akiva had been brutal. He and Rex had been awake for 82 hours, trying to stay on top of the constant flood of droids coming from the factory while they waited for Ahsoka and her team to shut it down.

Anakin hated to admit it, but he had taken some nasty blows throughout the campaign. A droideka had gotten a lucky shot in when Anakin was surrounded and blasted him in the back of his left leg (which consequently lead to him falling on his face and breaking his nose), a tactical droid managed to get the company into a trap where droids dropped boulders onto them (Anakin did manage to stop most of them, so the company came out alright, but he missed the one that hit him and Rex on the head. He did sleep for about 10 minutes after that, so that was a plus), and a stupid commando droid managed to shoot through his right arm, killing some of the wires connected to his nerves. He could feel jolts of electricity run up his arm whenever the dead ends accidentally hit each other, and he was unable to fully open or close his hand. And forget about his ring and pinky finger, they were absolutely fried. The surgery would take a day to repair the damage. Time Anakin didn’t have.

Kix was arguing with him even now as he and Anakin walked out of the barracks after they had carried Ahsoka and Rex into the bunks to rest and recover. Poor Snips had taken a nasty cut on her arm from Ventress and had inhaled far too much smoke from being caught in the factory after setting it on fire. It should have been him. He was her master after all. He should be able to protector her. And Rex was barely conscious after being awake for so long and taking that boulder to the head…and breaking his arm after tackling the droideka that had shot Anakin. They both deserved a couples days rest and some time in the bacta tank.

Anakin began removed the bandages from his head, right arm, and leg as Kix continued to scold him.

“Sir, this is insane! You’re clearly injured! Now is when you go to the med bay, NOT A COUNCIL MEETING!!”

“Relax Kix. I’m standing up and moving around. Which, in my book, is a win.” Anakin tried to give Kix his most convincing swagger smile. The one that typically managed to hide of all his pain.

Unfortunately, Kix knew him too well. And he had been there when the boulder had dropped on Anakin.

“Sir… with all due respect, you are a KRIFFIN IDIOT! You have a concussion, your right arm is in shambles and can’t hold a thing, you’ve lost a lot of blood from your left leg, which you are STILL limping on. And I’m fairly certain you have multiple broken ribs as well, but you woln’t sit still long enough to allow me to examine you!” Kix listed off with big dramatic gestures as he screamed whispered to Anakin.

“Yes. Yes. Yes. And probably true, but I don’t have time to figure that out right now Kix. If I’m late for one more council meeting, Mace is going to have my head. And if I walk fast enough, I’ll be there right on time! More or less…” Anakin whispered argued back.

“Sir, I’m sure you being in the med bay is a very valid reason to not be at the council meeting.” Kix had stopped and was looking at Anakin with concern.

Normally Kix, as the company medic, could overrule Anakin’s command. However, Anakin wasn’t in command at this moment. He was just a soldier reporting in, so Kix technically couldn’t stop him.

“Somebody has to inform the council of what happened on Akiva, and Ahsoka and Rex are both down. That leaves me.” Anakin hesitated a moment, looking at Kix’s concerned face, and knowing that Rex would yell at him the moment he woke up and found out Anakin hadn’t gone right to the med bay. He did have good men who cared about him. “But I promise that I’ll go to med bay immediately after the council meeting.” Anakin conceded.

Kix nodded his head, agreeing to the terms. “If you’re not there by 0300, I’m sending a squad to find you sir.”

“Fair enough.” Anakin held his left hand out in fairwell as he walked (limped) towards the council chambers.

***

Skywalker was late. Again.

True, his company had just arrived back from Akiva the hour before, but where other Jedi would immediately report in after a mission, Skywalker had a tendency to dillydally with his men afterwards.

Mace had hopped that after his last talk with Anakin that he would take these council meetings more seriously. Clearly that hope was in vain.

Mace turned to his friend and head of the Jedi Council, “We should begin the meeting Master Yoda. There are many important things to discuss with or without Skywalker’s report.”

“Indeed. Start, we should. Much to discuss, there is. Master Kenobi, faith, in Skywalker, you have?”

“I promise you, Anakin will be here Master,” Obi Wan said reassuringly, though he looked ready to sigh at his old apprentices antics.

“Very well. Begin, you will Master Mundi. Anxious, to hear about the Wookiees, I am.”

Anakin Skywalker quite literally stumbled into the council chambers partway through Master Mundi’s report. His shirt was rumpled, and his right arm was stained by some liquid.

“Apopoligies Masters,” he stated as he attempted an awkward bow with his left hand, his right hanging limply, and hobbled to side of the chambers.

Great, Mace thought, not only was Skywalker late, but he was drunk and had wine on his sleeves. It would have been better for him to not report at all, than to come in this state. Mace would have to have another talk with him later.

***

Obi Wan raised a quizzical eyebrow at Anakin and directed his gaze to his right arm, which was clearly leaking fluid. ‘Are you alright? Shouldn’t you be in med bay?’ His gaze asked.

‘I’m fine.’ Anakin’s glance replied, as he attempted to hide his right hand. Though he jolted slightly upon moving it.

‘If you’re fine, then why are you late? And why is your arm clearly broken? And you’ve done something to your leg that you’re limping. Kix really let you go like this?’ Obi Wan’s worry frown settled on his brow as his glaze slide over his old Padawan, checking if anything else was wrong or broken. He really should have had something stronger to drink before dealing with this.

‘I’m here aren’t I?’ Anakin’s shrug was his only response as he began purposefully ignoring his Master’s concerned gaze.

Definitely should have had something stronger to drink, Obi Wan thought.

***

Stay awake Anakin. You can do this, just STAY AWAKE!

His head was pounding through his skull with full force. He had managed to deflect Kix and Obi Wan, but Anakin was seriously ready to topple over. It was taking every ounce of his willpower just to stay upright. He hadn’t even noticed that his arm was leaking fluid again until Obi Wan had pointed it out. Hopefully he had moved his arm soon enough that no one else had notice the stain. Or that his whole body was jittering every now and again as random wires connected and sent jolts through his nervous system.

He just had to stay awake through this meeting, then he would make good on his promise to Kix and go to med bay.

Just stay awake.

***

“Skywalker, we’re ready for your report now” Mace stated. It was now 0400. The council had gone through 5 other reports that had taken 2 hours (though there was a little commotion outside the halls at 0300 that the temple guards had handled) and were ready to hear about the campaign on Akiva.

“Skywalker?” he questioned again when there was no response from the young knight.

“Anakin,” Obi Wan’s anxiety caught in his normally calm tone.

“Yes Masder. Sorri Masder,” the young man jolted at the sound of Obi Wan’s voice, though his whole body shook. “I was…loss in thougd.”

“Anakin… maybe you should,” Obi Wan began as he started to stand.

“Give my repord. Yes, yes I sould,” Anakin interjected. Glaring at Obi Wan as he wobbled to the center of the floor, even though it was clear as day to Mace that Anakin was drunk and Obi Wan was just trying to save some face.

Anakin shuttered as he began speaking, trying to hide his right arm behind him:

“The campin on Akia dook a few durnds, bud in the ened, we manade do brind don de droid faccori. Dis will allo…” Anakin’s left leg suddenly gave out from under him as his whole body shuttered again, flinging him forward.

“Anakin!” Obi Wan yelled, as he flung himself from his chair, barely managing to catch Anakin before his face hit into the marbled floor.

“Medic! I need a Medic NOW!!” Obi Wan uncharacteristically shouted out the doors of the council chamber.

“YOU SEE!!! THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DON’T LISTEN TO THE DAMN MEDIC!!!” A clone medic wearing the colors of the 501 burst into the council chamber a stretcher, bandages, and some bacta patches at the ready, the temple guards standing in shock behind him.

“General Fisto, please hold General Skywalkers left leg steady. General Kenobi, please wrap this bandaged around his leg before it starts bleeding through again. I need to wrap these wires around his hand so he stops shocking his whole system until we can get him into surgery,” Kix said jumping into action.

“Kix?! Kix?! What happened? Why did he come here instead of med bay? How badly injured is he?” Obi Wan rapidly questioned as he wrapped Anakin’s leg. He could see that he had reopened a blaster wound and it was starting to bleed again.

“General Skywalker insisted that he had to be to the council meeting to report on the mission since Commander Tano and Captain Rex are both badly injured as well General Kenobi. You know how the General gets when he sets his mind to something.

I told him he had to be at med bay by 0300 or I’d send a squad after him. Well, he wasn’t in med bay at 0300 so the boys and I came looking for him, but these guards would let us in.” Kix talked fast as he wrapped Anakin’s right hand which had wires sticking out from every angle and fluid leaking from the gaping hole in his arm.

Mace finally noticed the 3 other clone troopers in 501 armor helping get supplies and the stretcher in place and immediately felt overwhelming guilty.

He had assumed the worst of Skywalker, believing him to be drunk, when in reality he was seriously injured. Enough so that it was amazing he had stay standing as long as he had.

“Rest, you should Skywalker. Your health, more important than the report, it is.” Master Yoda said as he walked over to the commotion, where a barely awake Skywalker lay.

“Yes, Masder.”

“Give the report, one of your men can, I’m sure.” Yoda continued. “Heal, you will.”

Obi Wan and Kit Fisto helped Kix and one of the clones lift Anakin carefully onto the stretcher.

“Appo and Fives, can you deliver the report to the council in Anakin’s place?” Obi Wan requested.

“Yes, sir!” The two clones saluted. Then both gently touched to stretcher where Anakin was laying. “Take care of yourself sir.”

“Master, I’d like to request permission to accompany Anakin to med bay.” Obi Wan asked Master Yoda.

“Go, you may. Run away from the medic, ensure he doesn’t,” Yoda gently laughed.

Mace grabbed Anakin’s left hand before Kix and Kenobi pulled him away on the stretcher. “Next time young Skywalker, go to med bay,” he counseled.

Anakin attempted to laugh as he was carted away. “If you insisd.”

Maybe it was alright for Skywalker to miss council meeting sometimes after all.

How many times do you think Anakin arrived a meeting, a call, or honestly anything important for his job swinging and stumbling and speaking weirdly, so everyone would just glare at him like "Showing up drunk is worse than not showing up at all", only for it to be that he's actually with a severe concussion; or dizzy from blood loss, or oxygen isn't reaching his brain or literally anything but drunk; in fact , Obi-Wan wishes he was drunk.

[mysterythief]

“Please don’t belittle the wonder of thinking” is such a raw line. I need everyone to hear it

Okay. It's time for an AI rant.

My nephew is 13 years old. Whenever he writes a paper for school, I check it over and fix all of his mistakes for him. He said to me, "Maybe I'll proofread your paper for you in exchange," meaning one of the scholarly articles I write for work. I said, "Cool," and gave him the file. And he said, "Well, this is full of errors! See, you always say you have a lot to correct on my stuff, and look at all the stuff you got wrong!" And I said, surprised, "What? Where?" Because I'm sure there are typos in the draft I sent him, but not, like, that many.

And then he pointed to the screen and said, "Look at all the blue and red lines you have."

And I said, "Yeah, but those are wrong. Like, those are blue and red lines I'm ignoring because the computer is wrong." And then I paused and added, "You know you can't proofread a paper by just looking at the red and blue lines, right?" And he gave me the blankest look, because that clearly is EXACTLY what he thinks. And it became even clearer suddenly why, whenever I correct something on his paper, his immediate reaction is, "It didn't have a blue or red line."

There's a very good reason for that: THAT'S BECAUSE THE COMPUTER ISN'T SMART ENOUGH TO KNOW THAT IT WAS WRONG.

I am so tired of being sold the idea that computers are better than humans and so we should just outsource everything to them, which is clearly the lesson my nephew is absorbing in U.S. middle school. COMPUTERS ARE NOT BETTER THAN HUMANS. Like, maybe they are better at humans at crawling through rubble to find people trapped inside. They are also better at preserving things in a searchable format. Things like that. Very limited circumstances.

I don't want to sound alarmist but everything I hear about people using generative AI freaks me out. It's not just that I'm freaked out by people being like, "I use it to write novels!" (Although I don't see how they do, I have tried to have it write fiction for me and the output was truly terrible.) But I recognize my bias around creative writing and so no one needs to credit my views on artificial writing. But! Other things are alarming, too! "I use it to brainstorm x, y, or z." But...why? Why not just...use your own brain...to...brain...storm? The computer doesn't even have a brain to brainstorm with! And you might be like, "But it comes up with things that my brain would never think of!" So would other people! You could also brainstorm with other people! Or even through Google to see what other people have thought before you (not AI). Please don't belittle the wonder of thinking.

I just feel like the marketing around generative AI boils down to "Wouldn't it be easier not to use your own brain to think about things?" Everyone. No. It would not be. Please just trust me on this. I'm not just an old person who is out of touch with technology or something. I promise. USE YOUR BRAINS. IT WILL BE OKAY.

[mysterythief]

He had come for you again.

As he always does.

You can count on it more reliably than you can count on your paycheck.

Though your coworkers totally warned you when you first started. And they all called the boss Dunken for a reason.

He had grabbed you right as you walked out the door at the end of your 11 hour shift. He had picked you up effortlessly, and you were too tired to even try to sass him.

He had remarked on that rather quickly as he tied your hands (loosely) in front of you and placed you in the back seat of his car.

“Really Reni?! Not even a quick quip for little old me? I’d even take a stupid pun.”

I made muffled sounds in response, an old inside joke to when he use to gag me, the first 20 or so times he had kidnapped me, as he started the car and speed off. I could see his smile through the rear view mirror. So big it reached the edges of the cartoonish villain mask he had dawned today.

I smiled softly in response, “It’s been a loooong day David. Do we have a ways to go? Before you tie me up over the piranhas, or whatever dastardly plan you have for me today?” I flipped my hair dramatically as I said dastardly and attempted to roll my eyes (though truthfully I’ve never really been able to do it).

He smirked at me through the rearview mirror, “Trying to unfold my plot this early? Wow, someone really had a bad day at work. We have a few hours before we get where we’re going, but your feminine charm won’t work to get me to reveal our destination.”

“Good. In that case, this feminine charm is going to take a nap.”

“Aww, but that means I won’t get to enjoy the pleasure of your company Reni. Guess I’ll just have to listen to heavy metal music instead.” He plugged in his phone and turned on indie pop music. The soft sounds were a favorite of yours, and you figured his, since he had playlists full of it (you knew because you had managed to steal his phone one time when he had left it unlocked on the desk right by where you were “securely” tied up).

He had left a few blankets conveniently in the backseat (he had insisted on previous trips like this that they were for covering dead bodies), and your hands were tied loose enough that you managed to maneuver a blanket to act as a pillow and to drag one around you.

David whistled along softly to the song playing through the speakers as you let yourself drift into blissful sleep.

You woke up some 3ish hours later, having slept rather well. You only woke up once or twice when David cursed out a driver or took too fast a turn. He was honestly driving more within the legal bounds than normal. He probably didn’t want Wilk to catch onto him this early.

Not that it would likely matter this time.

“Good morning Reni!” David was quite excited that you were up. “Did you have a nice nap?”

“I did indeed. Though your driving could use some improvement. I’m shocked I don’t have a concussion from slamming my head with how quick you take turns.” I sassed.

“My driving?! My driving is impeccable. Clearly it is you who needs to learn better balance.” He scoffed backed. Though you noticed that he took the next few turns with more care.

You leaned forward between the two front seats, resting your chin on his chair, your lips nearly touching his shoulder. “So are you going to tell me where we are going now that you’ve almost killed me with your poor driving skills, or do I have to wait in agony? Also are we going to be there soon? Because I really need to pee. That’s probably contributing more to my agony than your driving.”

“We’ll be there soon. 45 more minutes. You think you can wait that long?” He asked, concern hinting in his tone.

“I guess.” You sighed as you sat back into your seat. You looked out the window for the first time in hours. “Wait?! We’re on the coast? Did you build a new lair on the coast? I’ve always wanted to visit the ocean, but it just seemed so far, and I was always too busy…”

You were rambling at this point, but he didn’t seem to mind. He just nodded his head as you talked, about your favorite sea creatures (mantis shrimps), how coral reefs were your favorite ecosystem, how you wanted to study marine biology in college. You never made it that far in school. You dropped out in high school. When your best friend got pregnant and her family disowned her. You both got a full time job until she couldn’t work any more. You’re the proud godmother of the sweetest 3 year old girl. You’d make the same choice again if it came to it. But you’re trying to finish your GED now. Hopefully you’ll be accepted to community college within a year.

He listened intently to it all, which was new.

Not for him, but for you. You were used to being constantly interrupted, interjected, or completely ignored.

Honestly, you had been looking forward to being kidnapped soon. Because he always listened.

Yes he was a little quirky. And absolutely dramatic. A little too over the top. And technically he was a villain. But really, was it so bad that he only targeted the worst corporations? Those polluting the environment and scrapping their workers for every last bit of cash. He had always treated you well (once you had convinced him to stop using the gag). And you were the “hero’s” girlfriend.

Extra emphasis on were.

Wilk was a decent enough guy, when you first met him at the coffee shop. You were still 16. Had just dropped out of school and were working full time there. And Wilk. Well, Wilk was in college. He played football. He was popular. He was everything you thought you wanted.

You had dated Wilk for the last 4 years. You thought you were happy with him. Then you finally came to your senses the last time David had kidnap you. And all because of blueberries and eggs.

David was always nice and generous to you. Yes, he was kidnapping you. But he was really just doing it because he was trying to get to Wilk. He would kidnap you, so Wilk would come stop him, while his buddies broke into whatever corporation they were after at the moment. Whether to break animals out, steal and then leak devastating information, or convince the employees to start a protest, David was the distraction and the fall guy. And Wilk was an idiot cause he never figured it out.

Regardless, David tended to make sure he had food on hand for you if he was going to take you on a longer trip. Last time he had a breakfast burrito and a smoothie for you.

“Don’t worry, I made sure there are no eggs on the burrito and there are extra blueberries in the smoothie.” He said as he handed the food to you. He always left your hands tied loosely enough that you could do basic tasks, like hold something and eat.

“You know I hate eggs?” You questioned.

“You told me when I brought you egg rolls.” He shrugged.

“That was…” you quickly did the math in your head, “…over 2 years ago. And how did you know extra blueberries?” You asked, astounded.

He blushed slightly. “I asked your coworker your favorite drink at the shop. She said a power smoothie with extra blueberries.”

You were so shocked that you barely spoke to him the rest of the ride. Wilk, your boyfriend, who you had been dating for 4 years, didn’t remember you hated eggs. He didn’t even know you loved blueberries. He hadn’t even thought to ask. Yet here was this guy. Who kidnapped you every so often, just to distract your boyfriend, who knew what you liked and disliked.

You dumped Wilk that night.

You rambled to David about your love of marine life and your goddaughter until he pulled up and stopped the engine at a quaint beach side cabin. You sat there silently for a minute, waiting for him to take you into the cabin as he announced his new sand death trap or whatever he had planned to catch Wilk.

“This is new.” You broke the silence first. “Typically you take me to a broken down warehouse or an abandoned shop.”

“I know.” He whispered.

That was odd. David never whispered. Unless he was doing it sarcastically.

After a moment he finally opened his door and then opened yours, offing you his hand to pull you out beside him.

“David,” you started hesitantly as he started to walk you towards the beach, Wilk won’t come for me today.”

“I know.” He said as he gently tugged you forward to walk with him towards the beach.

“I broke his heart.” You continued, not processing what he had said.

“Good for you.”

“Wait?! What?!” Your brain finally caught up to what he had first said as you dug your feet into the sand, stopping you both. “If you know that he’s not going to come, then why kidnap me? You can’t use me to distract Wilk from whatever scheme you have…”

You were cut off as David put a gloved finger to your mouth, his hand was shaking slightly. You’ve never seen him shake before. “My scheme isn’t for Wilk.” He hesitated a moment, “It’s for you.”

He move his finger from your lip, gently tugging you forward again.

You went with him intrigued. He lead you past the cabin further onto the beach. The sun had long set, but there were battery candles lighting the path to a picnic blanket where letters were drawn into the sand.

As you got closer you could make out the letters.

B MY GF?

“David, what’s this?” You questioned.

David smiled slightly as he untied your hands and held them both in his own.

“Reni, I know we really started off on the wrong foot….” He paused

“No dur Einstein.” You retorted, with a smile.

“There’s that wit I love.” He smiled a full smile back. “Reni, while I first started stealing you as bait for your ex, what I didn’t realize until recently was that you have stolen my heart. I want to get to know you better. And maybe steal your heart in the process. If you’ll let me?” He phrased the last part as a question, looking towards the B MY GF written in the sand.

“I can’t image a better thing to steal. So let’s start off on a better foot this time.” I replied as I pulled my hands away from his and held one hand out towards him. “Hi, my name is Lauren, though my boyfriend friends call me Reni because I refused to give him my full name at first and he just went with it.”

He laughed as he pulled off his gloves the took off the comedic mask, dropping them in the sand before taking my hand in his own to shake it. “My name is Cameron, though my girlfriend calls me David because I wouldn’t tell her my name so she made one up for me. It’s a privilege to met you. Shall we go enjoy this yummy picnic of PB&J sandwiches with fresh blueberries and get to know each other better?”

“That sounds perfect.”

You are kidnapped by the villain regularly, but you’re starting to look forward to it. You know they won’t hurt you, and are simply being dramatic. It also doesn’t help that you are the only person they ever kidnap. This time, the hero doesn’t bother trying to save you.

[mysterythief]

The gods stopped paying attention a loooong time ago. But Jamir was the only one who seemed to have realized that.

They had been knighted in their youth. At the ripe age of 15.

Who actually knew anything at 15?

They should’ve been allowed to just be a kid. But Jamir was “chosen by the gods” and so they were given a knights title to go with their chosen one abilities.

Jamir the Just, they called him, back when they had been a him.

Jamir was devote in their duties. They prayed 5 times a day, fasted every Xen Day, and followed all the order of the Church. After all they were order. They were praised by their community and made their family proud.

At 19 the Church sent Jamir to Wendov. To fight the good fight they said. To bring the gods to the heathens they said.

Jamir was no stranger to violence. They had been in a fair share of fights between putting out brawls at the pub and fighting thieves out of villages. The basics of keeping peace and order.

But Wendov. Wendov was a massacre.

Jamir arrived at Wendov with a small garrison of other Knights and Paladins from the Church, sent as reinforcements.

The smell reached them 1000 clicks out from town. The wretched scent of burnt blood and skin.

They saw the smoke 500 clicks out. Covering the sky with a haze, as ash fell from the sky.

They saw the illuminated skyline from 66 clicks out. The bright raging fire the engulfed the city.

Jamir was horrified, but his company stood fast. So he did too. He carried out his orders unquestioning for 7 months.

Slaughtering indiscriminately.

Because that was what it was: Slaughter.

But if it was the will of the gods, then that meant he was carrying out the cause of order and justice.

Right?

Jamir dealt vengeance to the heathens, as the Church and the gods ordered. But more and more he realized that the gods weren’t ordering anything.

It first started when Jamir was sent to burn down a home that was hiding rebels. Jamir and his partner broke the door and found a trembling woman praying, token in her hand eerily similar to the one Jamir’s mother had at home. His partner slit her throat without a second glance.

Jamir continued to notice these oddities more and more. Rebel symbols painting on building nearly indistinguishable from the symbol of Ratha: Goddess of Vengeance.

Churches with charred fragments of scrolls, near identical to the words of Vatu: God of Wisdom.

Clothing engraved with the Hixum. The ward of protection from Hixxus: God of the Innocent.

No one else from his army seemed to notice or care about these symbols. They dismissed him whenever he tried to bring it up. Told him that the heathens had brought this war upon themselves.

But Jamir could not ignore these signs.

Jamir broke on the 11th month he had been in Wendov.

He was sent to verify that no one was left in the west eastern quadrant that the Church had just cleared. And if there was anyone, to kill them on site.

Jamir was patrolling near the city wall, when he heard a clear wail. He turned toward the sound, sword drawn, and came upon a child, near 4. Their gender was indistinguishable from the mat of hair on their head and the ash and soot on their face and hands. They cried over a body too burned to be identified.

Jamir held his sword out towards the child. It was better that he just put them out of their misery.

Jamir stood like that for 45 seconds, posed ready to kill the child.

The child turned slowly towards him, revealing a mark painted on their cloths. The Yusim, the symbol of Yustis the Just. The symbol Jamir wore on his chest.

He couldn’t do it.

He wouldn’t do it.

He wouldn’t kill any more.

This war was evil.

It came purely from the greed of the Church and not the will of the gods.

If the gods cared, they wouldn’t allow for this to happen.

Jamir quickly put away his sword, picked up the child, and deserted the city.

The war.

His army.

The Church.

The gods.

His identity.

Jamir deserted them all.

He revoked his title, status, family name, race, nationality, and gender.

Jamir would bring justice to those who had been slaughtered at Wendov.

They would help the sick and the wounded. They would go were no Paladin would dare go. Amongst the heathens and the traitors. Amongst the pariah and the martyrs. Anywhere someone needed them, Jamir could be found.

They would raise this child. Teach them love and compassion. Teach them that justice is not always retribution, but a balancing of good and evil. And there is too much evil in the world so much good must be done by them to balance it out.

Jamir had thought, that by abandoning the gods they would lose their gifts. But Jamir could still Bless and Protect just as well as he could as a lad. So clearly the god hadn’t pay attention to anything in the last 23 years.

And Jamir was fine with that. As long as they could help those in need the rest of their life.

***

Yustis stood tall in the heavens, overlooking the small village Jamir and their child were visiting presently. They had repaired a broken wagon, baked dinner for the widowed, counseled the wayward youth, and brought peace to the community. Their faithful servant Jamir continued to look beyond race, sex, and status to help anyone and everyone who needed it. They believed the gods ignored them, just as they ignored the gods. Though Jamir no longer carried the symbol of Yustis on their chest, they carried Yustis on their heart wherever they went. And as their god, Yustis could not be more proud.

You haven’t been in a temple for years. Your prayers are usually lip service. You have been ostracized by your community and your family shuns you. You have helped heathens and enemies of the church find sanctuary. Yet the Gods still find you worthy of your Paladin abilities.

[mysterythief]

The god stood behind you. You didn’t need to turn to know he was there.

“This will hurt,” he whispered.

You nodded as you sat on a mat in your one room hut, gently stroking the small boy’s raven hair.

Decades had passed since you had left Phoenix’s ashes in the pasture. You had since moved cities and countries.

The boy was small enough he fit in your hands, where he had fallen asleep after you had cleaned him up and fed him. He wasn’t more than a few days old. You had helped his lone mother give birth to him by the light of your fire on your way home. She hadn’t made it. You held the boy, covered in blood and ashes. You did the only thing you could.

You brought him home.

“What will you call him?” the god questioned.

“Phoenix,” was your swift response, as the god softly put his hand on your shoulder before vanishing into the night.

***

“Up!” Phoenix demanded.

You looked down at the young boy, barely managing to toddle the length of the hut alongside you. He stared up at you expectantly in return.

“Up!...Up!” he repeated, stretching his small arms up towards you to make his request clear.

“Quite assertive, are we my little chick?” you chuckled as you bent down to pick Phoenix up. You bopped him gently on the nose with your finger as you brought him up.  Phoenix giggled, putting his small arms around your neck and gently hit your nose with his head in return.

“High?” he questioned as he pulled his face away from yours to look you in the eyes. “Up. High?” he repeated. His face full of pleading.  

“Ah, my beloved son longs to fly, does he?” you question back, a slight smile on your lips.

“High?” Phoenix requested again. Waving his arms to and fro like little sticks caught in a breeze.

You relented, lifting Phoenix high into the air as he let out a gush of laughter. You brought Phoenix down a little, placing one hand under his chest, another under his legs. Slowly, you turned him around the room, moving him higher and lower to mimic waves.

Phoenix laughed, and laughed. Gushing with joy that was contagious. You laughed and spun with him until you grew dizzy, finally pulling him in close to your heart.

“high” he murmured, a soft smile on his face, his eyes threatening to close in on him as he stubbornly fought sleep.

“You are the brightest bird in the sky. And you will rise higher than them all my Phoenix.”

***

“I’m not going to fight you!”

You heard Phoenix’s determined remark by the hut as you were walking back from the village with fresh meat from the butcher. You started to run. The hut was down the hill from where you were so you would have the advantage of gaining speed…

“Oh?! The tiny bird too afraid to pick up a wooden sword. Are you worried that you’ll get splinters?” a boy taunted back.

You stopped suddenly, recognizing the voice of T’lun. Widow Pa Lin’s son.

This was Phoenix’s fight.

As much as you hated it, you would only step in if it was necessary. The village boys already teased Phoenix for his untraditional name and being raised by a foreign father who wasn’t a soldier, like the prevalent occupation here was. If you intervened too soon, the bullying would only get worse.

“I’m not worried about splinters. Nor am I afraid of you.” Phoenix confidence carried up the hill towards you. Far more powerful than any 9-year-old should be able to muster.

You crested the hill to see T’lun and his entourage S’yin and W’tan with their backs towards you. Phoenix was facing towards you, his back to the hut, his arms spread wide. T’lun was holding a wooden sword in his hand, a second one lay untouched on the ground in front of Phoenix.

“You should be. NOW FIGHT ME!” T’lun screamed at Phoenix, who shook his head in return.

You watched, horrified, as T’lun charged Phoenix, swinging the wooden sword straight into his defenseless mid-section. Your feet were moving again before the sword connected with Phoenix stomach, the meat forgotten at the top of the hill, but you were still too far away. 

Phoenix crumpled under the blow as S’yin and W’tan laughed at his misery. T’lun moved to strike Phoenix’s head, but he rolled out of the way and the sword kicked up dust. Phoenix picked himself off of the ground while T’lun was recovering from the shock of not hitting his target.

“Not everything is about fighting and destruction T’lun. My Baba has taught me that true strength comes from rising when you fall. You can knock me down a hundred times. But I’ll get back up a hundred and one times.” Phoenix panted, still out of breath from the hit to his mid-section, but he stood his ground, his arms outstretched, as he had before.

T’lun raised his sword again, his face boiling with rage, “Why you worthless…”

You didn’t give T’lun a chance to finish. “ENOUGH!” Your shout roared through the field, causing S’yin and W’tan to run up the hill immediately. T’lun was slower to the chase. His anger clouding his judgement, until he turned and saw you. He dropped his wooden sword and turned to follow his friends back towards the village.

You turned towards your son. “Are you alright my spark?” you whispered as you pulled him in close. You felt the tears running off his face and into your shoulder as he began to weep.

“Why am I so different from the other boys Baba?” he questioned after a few minutes, pulling away from your chest to wipe his tears away. “I have the same skin tone, hair color, eye color, height, but they all love violence. And I want nothing to do with it.”

You paused, unsure of how to answer his question. After Decades - no centuries - of life on this world, you still didn’t know why people chose violence. So, you took a different approach.

“What do you want then?”

“I want to create. To build something.” Phoenix responded with such certainty you were stunned. But not too much.

After all, you had already seen that he was beginning to spread his wings.

***

“Baba?” Phoenix started as you both sat in the shade of the trees. He held a whittling knife and was working on carving a new game board.

Two years had passed since the incident with T’lun. When Phoenix had determined that he wanted to be a builder. You had given him a whittling knife and had begun to teach him how to carve. He had taken to it like a bird taking to flight. Slow at first, but after a little practice it came to him naturally.

“Will you tell me a story Baba?”

It had become your tradition. Sitting in the shade as you taught Phoenix to carve you would tell him a story. But still you waited.

“Baba?... Oh, sorry Baba. Will you please tell me a story?”

You smiled softly. It was important you teach Phoenix to remember the small things, such as manners.

“And what story should I tell you my spark?”

“Tell me about the phoenix.”

You nodded, unsurprised. You told this story at least once a month, as it was his favorite.

“Unlike other birds, which hatch once their mother has laid an egg, the phoenix is born from the blood and ash of a fire. Covered in soot the phoenix rises. It starts small, a dark little thing, with very little wings.” You begin as you hold Phoenix’s hand in your own, working through how to do a channel cut on a scrap piece of wood before he tried to implement it on the game board.

“As the phoenix grows, it’s dull color turns into a spark, before becoming the color of fire. Bringing light wherever it goes the phoenix expands its wings to protect those it loves.” You watched Phoenix execute the channel cut on his game board. His brow furrowed in concertation with each gentle stroke. 

“When the phoenix has lived life to the fullest, it burst into flames, leaving behind blood and ashes for the phoenix to rise again.” You finished as Phoenix blew the remaining scraps off, looking up at you he proudly displayed his finished board. A huge smile etched into his face.

You smiled back at him. Proud of the progress he had made.

“Why did you name me Phoenix, Baba?” he asked curiously.

“Because you had a spark in your eyes from the moment you were born” you lied.

He nodded, turning back to his board. Determination lighting up his eyes.

***

“Baba,” Phoenix complained, exasperated. “I don’t get why I need to dress up for the festival. It’s not a special occasion or anything. I’m just going to play some of the games with N’mun.”

“Trust me my little spark.” You told your 15-year-old son as you tried to comb down his raven hair, which had a propensity for sticking straight up. He sighed and rolled his eyes, but stood still for a minute before wriggling out of your grasp.

“Let’s go already! Before it gets dark.”

You shook your head before following him out the door.

The village was lit by colorful lanterns and decorations. Phoenix met up with his friend N’mun promising to meet up with you at the bonfire dance before taking off.

The hours flew by quickly and before you knew it the bonfire was being lit to begin the dancing. You went and joined N’mun’s parents, and soon enough the two boys joined you.

“Did you try one of S’lim’s new treats Baba? I had the red one and it was sooo hot I thought I was going to start breathing fire. N’mun just stood there laughing at me instead of doing something useful like getting me some water” Phoenix rattled off so fast you’re amazed that you caught any of it.

“His face was a red as a berry” N’mun laughed, while Phoenix pouted.  

“Was not.”

“Was too” N’mun gently pushed Phoenix to the side. Phoenix in return shoved him back, right into Fa Lum, who smirked at the boys and grabbed N’mun’s hand. Taking advantage of the chance to get him to dance.

“You better be out here soon Phoenix” N’mun jested as Fa Lum pulled him away.

“Yeah right” Phoenix sassed back. “And why would I want to dance with a girl?”

“Because you like her,” you replied honestly to his hypothetical question.

Phoenix jumped, startled, having forgotten that you were behind him. “Me. Like a girl?”

“It’s strange, but possible,” you retorted putting your hand on Phoenix shoulder. He was getting tall enough that you barley had to lean down to do so. “Besides don’t think I haven’t seen how you always blush around Ru Chi,” you whispered, pointing at the petit girl across from them. “You should ask her to dance.”

“But I don’t like her,” he protested.

“Sure you don’t son. Do it anyway. It’ll be fun. Besides you can’t leave N’mun all alone out there.” You pushed Phoenix in Ru Chi’s direction, waving your hand to shoo him away from you and towards her.

Phoenix glared at you, then looked in Ru Chi’s direction. She waved at him and he blushed. He started walking towards her, licking his hand to smooth down his hair before he approached her and asked her to dance. His feet shuffling back and forth as he talked to her.

You laugh softly to yourself. Boys are a little slow on the uptake that they like a girl. But you don’t mind. In fact, you wish your son could stay this young and enthusiastic a little longer.  

***

“Close your eyes Baba. I have a present for you.”

You looked up at your son skeptically. At 17 he towered above you by a few centimeters. And it was his birthday, not yours.

He laughed at your confusion. “Please Baba, let me give you this gift,” he requested.

You relented, closing your eyes. You heard shuffling as Phoenix grabbed something and then moved behind you. After a moment you felt a light weight settle on your chest.

“You can open your eyes now Baba.” Phoenix stood in front of you smiling triumphantly. You looked down at the amulet that hung around your neck.

“What’s this my bright light?” you questioned, musing the bird amulet between your fingers.

It was painted bright red and yellow. The bird had its wings spread out wide and it looked like it was surrounded by flames.

“It’s a phoenix rising from the flame, Baba. Like in the story you always told me. I wanted you to have a reminder of me. I hope you like it,” he shuffled his feet back in forth nervously while he held a smile on his face.

You felt tears of pride and joy begin to stream down you face. You pulled Phoenix in close. “It’s the most wonderful present I’ve ever received,” you said as you held your little boy a little longer.

***

War came to the village two months later.

“Baba! Baba!” Phoenix screamed through the smoke and fire that consumed the village. You had walked into town together to drop a necklace he had carved for Ru Chi and to pick up some food.

“Phoenix! I’m here Phoenix! Where are you my son?!” you screamed back, trying to find where you had lost Phoenix in the crowd. An arm grabbed your shoulder suddenly.

“Baba, we have to help. We have to do something!” Phoenix held your gaze. You recognized the determined fire that lit up his eyes. You held his gaze and nodded. “I saw some of the children running to the east. I’m going after them. Are you coming?”

“Yes, my spark. I’m with you all the way.”

You followed Phoenix as he wove in and out of the chaos that was unfolding around you. Chickens, horses, and people swarming every which direction. Uncertain of where to run.

“There Baba!” Phoenix shouted as he pointed out the small group of 5 children who were being pushed into a corner by two soldiers. Phoenix charged head-first past the soldiers stopping in front of the children he turned, facing the soldiers, stretching his arms out wide like he had all those years ago facing down T’lun. But this time it was a real fight, with real swords.

You charged the soldier closest to you, ramming into his stomach with your elbow. Throwing with enough force to knock him against the nearby wall the soldier crumpled to the ground.

You heard the children’s cries and Phoenix gasp before you could turn around.

You blindly lunged at the second guard, tackling his legs and knocking him off balance. You could see blood on the tip of his sword as you both topple to the ground. You wrestled, both of you kicking, punching, and biting until you managed to land a solid punch to his face that left him unconscious.

You stood unsteadily, making your way towards Phoenix who lay prostrate on the ground. Two of the children hovered over him, desperately trying to stop the blood flowing from his stomach. You know from the amount of blood pooling next to him that it would do nothing.

You dropped to the ground next to Phoenix and picked him up in your arms. His breath was too shallow, too short. “Hold on my son. It’ll be alright,” you cried.

“Baba,” he put his hand to your face. “Baba. Please tell me. Tell me why you named me Phoenix.”

“I named you Phoenix, because you had a spark in your eyes from the moment you were born,” you whispered, cradling his head.

Phoenix smiled and let out a raspy laugh. “I’ve lived a full life Baba.

Please.

Tell me.

Why did you name me Phoenix?” he begged.

“I named you Phoenix, because you had a spark in your eyes from the moment you were born. And because I knew you would rise from ash and blood you were born in to fly,” you sobbed.

Phoenix smiled softly, dropping his hand from your face to the phoenix amulet he had given you two months ago. “Then let’s this phoenix be a constant reminder to you Baba, of your Phoenix. Of my love and my promise. That I will rise and fly again,” he swore before taking his final breath.

Once the fighting was over you carried Phoenix to your hut and lay him on his mat. Taking a torch, you walked outside and lit your home on fire. You fiddled with your phoenix amulet while your son’s body and home burned. You didn’t leave until all that was left was ashes.

The abandoned child you’ve taken in sleeps on your lap as the god who gave you immortality softly warns you. “This will hurt.”

[mysterythief]

The god stood behind you. You didn’t need to turn to know he was there.

“This will hurt,” he whispered.

You nodded as you held the small boy who clung to your neck. Using your cloak to block out the wind and keep him warm against your skin. Blood and ash still marred his face from the barn fire you had pulled him out of.

“What will you call him?” he questioned as he placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Phoenix.”

The god hesitated, his hand lingering on your shoulder.

“Why?” he asked. “Why do you still do it when you know it will hurt?”

“How does a bird learn to fly?” you asked back.

“Its parents teach it.” The god responded.

“And does it not hurt the birds when their hatchling leaves the nest?”

“I suppose so.”

“But what joy they must feel when they see their little one take flight. Their wings stretched to the sun.

A bird cannot fly unless it is taught. Yes, it will hurt when they leave the nest. And it will hurt even more when they leave too early. But the joy of seeing them fly is worth all the pain,” you told the god.

“So, I will be here. Raising Phoenix to fly.”

The abandoned child you’ve taken in sleeps on your lap as the god who gave you immortality softly warns you. “This will hurt.”