It was always customary to have a servant guide a guest to their host, hence the beautiful lady in front of him, but it was truly unnecessary for Bennu. Scoria had the route from his room to Bennu’s room burned into his mind at this point. The familiar iron hallways still cold as the morning star just started to peak over the eastern horizon. Those early rays of light would illuminate the behemoth metal chains that linked the castle he stood within to the gargantuan poles at the edge of the city. Few lights managed to make their way through the windows at these hours, so the iron floor still had a biting cold to it.

Scoria did not mind that cold floor since it had become natural at this point to manipulate his own temperature to a desired state, but the servant in front of him was clearly in discomfort. Scoria hated how even the design of this castle was oppressive to the lower bloods; its very halls were fabricated in a way to remind those of tainted lineage of their inferiority.

Scoria picked up his pace so that he walked next to the servant and wrapped his arm around her. The servant initially jolted in shock from the abrupt action, but Scoria ignored her as he manipulated the temperature within her to be in a warm comfort.

The servant spoke with a severe panic shaking her voice. “Prince Scoria, this humble servant is not deserving of such kindness.” Scoria did not recognize the servant. He made an effort to memorize the names and faces of all the servants he came across so she must have been new, this would explain why she was unfamiliar with Scoria’s behavior despite the fact that she most certainly heard the rumors.

“Don’t worry about it.” Scoria was dismissive of the entire endeavor; he was always uncomfortable with those malicious praises and apologies. The servant recollected herself and opened the door that was now before them revealing a large empty room.

The castle that they currently inhabited was an unfathomable giant of iron and metal. The construct was an architectural wonder demonstrating the industriousness of the sodality of cinder; the castle had an unapologetic practicality to it that made it truly unique amongst all the noble houses in Trammel. In that giant castle there was a room that displayed the opposite.

This large open room had soft wooden walls and ceiling. The floor of this room was a blanket of grass, not the ash and bone that littered the forests of the sodality but actual lush green grass. At the tip of each blade there was a small flame which flickered inspirations of growth to its organic support. This single room was an antithesis to the entire sodality, most nobles hated it, Scoria loved it.

The servant tried to announce her lines in the dignified intonation she was trained with but the pressure of the powerful presences before her betrayed her practice. “Welcoming Prince Scoria Vitiate into the Abode of Bennu Patina the Phoenix.”

An old man was sat down in the center of the room cross legged. The man had two long tufts of greyed hair that jutted out from the crest of his head like the distinct plumage of a bird. The old man had a smooth defined chin since his beard had been recently shaven. He sported a round stomach, he surely had no problems with nourishment for quite some time. The old man’s face was compounded in an uncountable number of wrinkles, but any ill presence of his overdue age was outshined by his brimming smile and bright eyes. The old man nodded to the servant who promptly bowed to the two men and left the room closing the door behind her.

The old man gestured to Scoria by pointing his open palm to the floor in front him. “Scoria! Come have a seat. How have you been?”

Scoria happily took the invitation and sat down on the soft grass facing the old man. The soft comfort of that grass made it unnecessary for him to use his adept manipulations to keep warm. “I’ve been doing pretty well. I tried out some of those tricks you taught me, and I think I can get them down by the time The Tournament starts.”

The old man laughed with heavy burst of entertained glee. “Ah yes, I had heard from some of the servants that you had run off yesterday to ‘train’ in a ‘secret’ spot with a girl.” The old man made sure to emphasis the words train and secret with exaggerated air quotes. The toothy grin of the old man was so unrelenting it somehow managed to drive an uncomfortable guilt into Scoria.

“I would like to have you know that I actually was training… this time. I was training with Épée, we try to keep our rendezvous hushed since her father would disapprove… of her training!” Scoria threw a pointed finger at the old man at the end of his sentence to snuff out any more misconceptions.

Bennu gave an understanding nod while he stroked his recently shaven chin. “Oh, you were with Épée, she is one of the few good influences around you, so I better not make too much fun. How is she anyway?”

Scoria adjusted his sitting posture as to shift his weight off of his legs slightly. He had never understood how Bennu could sit perfectly cross-legged for sometimes hours on end without any complaint of discomfort or shifting. “Relatively well I would guess. she always has her usual complaints as I’m sure you could imagine. Oh yeah, we ended up talking about The Tournament at some point and she wasn’t so confident that she would get invited. What do you think? If anyone knows it would be you.”

“That girl is very skilled indeed but the competition for The Tournament is tough. Only the Chauffer can really tell.”

Scoria was a little surprised by Bennu’s uncertain words. Times when Bennu had no answer were extraordinarily infrequent to begin with but to then see that uncertainty in what Scoria thought was a simple question caught him off guard to say the least. Scoria tried to undercut his surprise by joking. “Why do you look so contemplative? When you have a face like that you even make me second guess whether I’ll be invited to The Tournament.”

Although there was a small worry at the back of his mind it was unfounded as Bennu let out a hearty chuckle towards the joke. “You shouldn’t let yourself be so arrogant Scoria, there are still many more people more powerful than you and even more so just as powerful. Don’t think you can just rest on your laurels because you’ve acquired a little bit of recognition from your old mentor here.”

Bennu’s reply seemed to spur Scoria’s memory. He reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a paper and pen. “Speaking of you being old and recognition worthy, could you sign this letter and leave a message like get well soon or something?”

Bennu took the letter and pen laughing lightly under his breath. “If you wanted my autograph you could’ve just asked yourself.”

“No, no, this is for one of Sanguine’s friend. She is terminally ill and she’s a huge fan of yours so Sanguine asked if I could get an autograph for her.”

“Well if you put it like that then I kind of have to give the autograph, don’t I?” Bennu struggled to place the letter down on his knee in a way which would allow him to write on it without punching a hole but despite his best efforts halfway through writing his get well message he punctured the paper. “whoops.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m sure Sanguine’s friend won’t care.” Scoria took the pen and paper back, although he was dismissive of the tear it was clear as day on his face that he was quite bothered by it.

Something that would be surprising to nearly everyone except for those he was closest too, Scoria secretly loved writing letters and was very protective of his many pen pals and the letters which he sent and received. Scoria pocketed the paper and continued speaking. “By the way I was thinking about Sanguine, I don’t really know all of the previous contestants of The Tournament, but do you think Sanguine will be the youngest person ever invited to The Tournament?”

“Well there was this one insect-like mokoi in the third Tournament that was only two days old when it was invited. I think it was called a vernal bacillus mokoi.”

Scoria’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when he heard this unbelievable fact. “It was invited at that young of an age, how come I don’t know about this thing?”

“They only have a three-day life cycle.”

Scoria’s amazement immediately crumbled into disappointment. “So, it just died before the first round of The Tournament even began?”

“No, it metamorphized into a giant beautiful butterfly that many who witnessed the fight said it was the most spectacular view they had ever seen.”

“A creature that powerful even managed to evolve! Then did it win the third Tournament?”

“The butterfly form of that species has no combat abilities; it was immediately destroyed horribly and painfully. The Chauffer never invited that species again. Surely you knew that it would not have won. The three-armed dragon won the third Tournament.”

Scoria nodded his head as if remembering an obvious fact that he should never have even forgotten. Suddenly bringing up the three-armed dragon reminded Scoria of something he had wanted to speak with Bennu about. “Oh, also Bennu, one of the people I write with is a Tarragon Monk right.”

Bennu leaned forward towards Scoria as his interest was piqued. “I didn’t know you were communicating with Tarragon monks. How does that even work? Surely there are no couriers under this bright star that would be willing to travel through the cruor swamps.”

Scoria furrowed his brows as he was instantaneously dragged into this superfluous tangent. “I don’t know actually. It does take forever for us to exchange letters though; I usually only get a letter from him twice a year or so. That is a good question. I’ll make sure to ask him in the next letter I send him.”

Bennu seemed saddened by a mild disappointment. “Shame, I was curious how that worked.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll tell you when I get a reply back. Just don’t expect an answer any time soon. Anyways were getting sidetracked. In the most recent letter that he sent, he wrote about the recent activity of the dragons and apparently a young dragon visited the three-armed dragon at his layer. There was no fight though.”

A complex congregation of various emotions filled Bennu’s face from excitement at such exhilarating events, to worry at the danger it may imply, to what seemed like a little fear of missing out; although, Scoria assumed he just misread since there wouldn’t be any reason for it. “That could be quite troubling. Are the dragons cooperating for something? They’re usually such solitary creatures, especially the three-armed dragon. You should let your father know as soon as you can. It is best to be prepared, dragons mobilizing is not something we should let catch us off guard.”

“I kind of feel bad using the letter that the monk wrote me in admiration of his deities to plan defensive measures against those very same deities.”

Bennu placed his hand on Scoria’s shoulder and shook him lightly. “I’m sure that monk was fully aware of how you would act, and although the dragons are deities to the Tarragon, they are not disillusioned into believing that the dragons are some kind of merciful beings that are holy protectors of humans. Even the Tarragon monks are conscious that dragons are dangerous creatures that think of themselves above all else”

Scoria still felt some apprehension over his treatment of the delicately confided contents of his letter. As per usual Scoria couldn’t argue against Bennu. He replied to the old man with defeated acceptance. “I guess. Wow, we really got sidetracked didn’t we. Remember when this was supposed to be a master calling for his pupil? So, what is it that you are going to teach me today?”

Scoria becoming increasingly more aware of the rising star lashing out through the open windows signaling the time quickly dissipating tried to move the conversation to what he was most interested in. Another lesson from the legendary phoenix.

“Why in such a rush, let us talk some more.” Despite Scoria’s not so subtle hinting, Bennu was fully comfortable with continuing the idle chatter.

Scoria was a little confused and equally anxious to move on with the lesson but he was in no position to go against his teacher. “Um, okay. What do you want to talk about?”

Bennu casually replied with a blank face and casual tone. “Do you still love Névé?”

Scoria caught completely off guard was at a loss for words. Their conversation had instantly taken a serious turn and Bennu was the last person he had wanted to know about his relationship with Névé. “Névé? She was some girl that ran away from the sodality of rain, right? Why would I care about a water bug?”

“Scoria, you need not lie to me. I am old and tired, I care not for rivalries nor dogma, speak from your heart. Do you love Névé?”

Scoria could not speak for a while. He had a suspicion that this was not a simple conversation between master and pupil, he didn’t think he was here today to be taught more fire techniques. He swallowed the anxieties gathering in his throat and readied to answer the question. But answer with what? “I don’t know.”

He meant to say no but somehow those were the words that came out instead. It wasn’t that the answer was yes and he wanted it to be no nor vice versa. It was just a much more complicated subject than that, this was after all a person he had not met for eight years. Simultaneously, it was someone that he hadn’t forgotten for eight years.

“What will you do when you meet her at The Tournament?” Bennu spoke without any expression showing on his face. It was impossible to read what his intentions were. Even with coming to learn so much more of his personality over the last few months Scoria still had no idea what Bennu was trying to ascertain.

“How do you know that she will be invited to The Tournament?” It was a stupid question; it was obvious that she would be invited to the Tournament. Even eight years ago she probably could have been invited. Even though Scoria knew the answer he wanted to hear someone else say it.

“I’m sure you have heard the rumors. That Névé has been working with the White Witch.” Scoria opened his mouth and leaned forward to try and explain despite the fact that he had nothing to explain with but Bennu raised his hand halting Scoria and continued speaking. “These rumors have been confirmed and we do not know for how long in these eight years she has been with the White Witch. I have no doubt that Névé will be invited to The Tournament, in fact I have no doubt that she will be the most powerful human there. The question is what will you do about it?”

Scoria did not know how to respond, he had so many questions. Sure Névé was powerful, but the strongest human? Even stronger than the Hero of New Heirisson conquest? Why was Bennu so certain? Beyond that, what could Scoria do against someone like that? How was he supposed to defeat an ally of the White Witch? What would the White Witch do to someone who does defeat one of her allies? None of this would be of concern if Névé never left. Why Névé, why did you leave?

Bennu continued speaking. “I will not teach you a new technique today. In fact I have nothing left to teach you, if you master all that I have taught then you will know all that I have known and will do all that I have done. You’re a smart boy Scoria so I know that it is obvious that I was setting you up to be the next phoenix. The last thing I will have to give you to fully relinquish my title would be the phoenix ash. Many believe that the passing of the phoenix ash is but a mere ritual, but that ash is deeply tied to the soul sea. The ash gets more powerful with each generation and imbues its wielder with all of the strength of their progenitors. This is the truth of the phoenix power. When you receive the phoenix ash you should save consuming it until your time of most dire need, its spontaneous activation comes with a few helpful boons as well.”

Scoria’s thoughts were stripped away from Névé as they attempted to catch up with Bennu. “I didn’t realize it was such a big deal, that ritual honestly just weirded me out for the most part but now I get it. Though the phoenix ash only gets inherited when the previous phoenix dies. It’s times like this when I’m almost annoyed at how healthy you are. I’m still not willing to accept that you beat me in that hundred-meter dash contest.” Scoria joked while crossing his arm in faux anger.

Bennu quipped back with a cheeky grin. “Just because I am capable of beating some soft boy like you does not change the fact that I am old.”

Scoria surprised by the unexpected jab exclaimed back. “What! Soft? I am jacked, my muscles make all the girls swoon! Also, you’re not even that old, Ken the Preeminent is 112.”

“I am not he. He boasts wonderous magic and profound essential knowledge to gather his vitality. Any other human of this world would be thankful to have lived to 84; although, if I really tried I think I could squeeze out another decade or two. Scoria listen to me. I have done my duties in this world; it is time I pass my legacy. But I am a greedy person, I want to be historical. I refuse to die until I make that happen, and being the old guy that whooped the dude with the jacked muscles at the hundred-meter dash does not quite reach the heights I was hoping for.”

Scoria raised an eyebrow at the phoenix’s strange determination towards a goal that the entire continent would unanimously agree that he had already accomplished. “Historical? You already are. You could choose to simply rest on your coattails for the rest of your life and you would still be the most historical person in this castle. Leave some world changing feats for the rest of us.”

“No, being part of the murugan squad and fighting mokoi is not where I want my history to lie and one day in the far future such trivial things will be forgotten. What I want is something much larger, something only you can accomplish for me.”

Scoria looked at the phoenix with a mix of perplexion and jubilation. “Something only I can accomplish? Well, well, of course I would be willing to help. I cannot wait to tell everyone that the great phoenix needed my help to do something.”

Bennu remained unperturbed from Scoria’s constant jokes and jabs. “I want peace between the Sodalities, a reunion of rain and cinder. I want what only you and Névé can accomplish.”

Scoria was at a loss for words. Within this bastion of nature sat within the iron fortress of cinders those words just said could be counted as treason. Never throughout the entire history of either of the sodalities was peace amongst each other ever thought of as a possibility. Even more worrying was the implied solution for how to accomplish this dream.

Bennu continued to speak. “Névé is an extremely dangerous opponent and not even I am fully aware of what she can or is willing to do now, but I need you to bring her back somehow for the sake of the sodalities. For this goal I will do all that I can to provide you with all the necessary tools.”

“Okay sure, but even if I master everything you taught me I wouldn’t be confident in my ability to beat her and that was before you told me she would be the most powerful human in The Tournament. I could keep training to fight her again after The Tournament but I wouldn’t even know how to find her, given that scenario I don’t know if I would be able to accomplish your dream in time.”

“You don’t understand.”

Scoria wanted to say something but just as he managed to let out his voice he was interrupted by the chime of a bell. His vision of Bennu was obstructed by what seemed to be a small pink rhombus that grew out of thin air, or it was a rhombus, but its body would reject any stable state. It would shift and transform, shrink and grow, continuously morphing into other shapes. The pink shape finally locked into a form resembling that of a featureless human with only one limb. The arm was outstretched towards Scoria holding a glowing parchment: It read.

You have been invited to The Tournament You are the Phoenix