'That won't do, Mark. You will have to submit to our ways eventually.' Jordan Teine croaked in his now nearly completely inhuman voice. The young phoenix shuddered at the sound. He hated those hours he had to spent with his father-in-law. The once virile man now had shrunken back to looking like a Hutzelmann in the course of only a few days. Now he had started to lose his humanity completely.

All he felt was disgust when he looked at the contorted version of the man he had never come to like, but had felt respect for. Now in his weakened state his true form pushed through the human guise, constantly reminding Mark of what he was now. It was a revolting picture. The once regal man had completely lost the mastery of his body. Now he could barely refer to as a man, more of a beast. Feathers sprouted everywhere, but not smooth and fiery, but ragged and grey, face half pushed out into a beak, legs shortened and ending in claws whilst retaining human proportions otherwise.

'I will say what I think is right. And I won't keep up a silly animosity that has already brought us to our knees. An animosity no living being on our side remembers the reason for and none of the other clans besides us cares about.' Mark retorted biting his lip before an 'old Hutzelmann' could slip.

Ever since his father-in-law got hurt during the interrogation, he was to keep him company and learn 'the ways of the Teine-clan'. He was totally fed up and out of patience. 'That's not the way of the Teines' here and 'You have to think like a phoenix' there. Mark was only short of running out of the fucking manor or decapitate the arrogant Hutzelmann. When he had told Jenny about it, she had only smiled and said that was the effect of his phoenix-side struggling to take control of the clan. Like he was some dumb animal or teenager unaware of his own feelings.

Right now, the Hutzelmann-king, as he had secretly dubbed Jordan Teine, tried to keep him from meeting Morgan and Rhiannon, for they were dragons. 'And dragons are not to be trusted...'. Bullshit. That's what it was.

'Young Chick, you don't know what you are talking about. We have to keep up our alliances and traditions. Our ancestors had their reasons. They are not to be questioned.' Jordan Teine chided the furious Mark.

'Your ancestors. Not mine. And their reasons are older than the seal, which is 400 years old. That's the very definition of outdated.' Mark growled. He would have already stormed out of the room and left for good if it wasn't for the fact, he, Mark, was now named regent of the Teine-clan and had to co-sign every single of the Hutzelmann-king's decisions. He had tried to hand the duty of becoming king to John but found he couldn't something of a magic contract hindered him. His phoenix-side was bound to his promise and so was he. An ancient inheritance from their Sidhe ancestors.

Though he had always seen himself as an honest person, he had felt relieved when he came to know he could still lie and only official promises were magically binding. But all the same there was no way to escape until he had become king, technically after the Hutzelmann's death. Then he would be able to name a successor himself and resign, if his father-in-law hadn't tricked him into a life-time-promise at that point. He scowled inwardly; the Hutzelmann-king had taken advantage of his unawareness. Now he had to grin and bear. If you fly with the phoenixes, you get shot with the phoenixes it seemed.

'Our ancestors. For the holy flame’s sake, chick. Mind your manners, being bound to your word by yourself being a phoenix to the point your soul is converted, should have taught you better.' Jordan sighed just as fed up as Mark. He hated tying the young man down but he had little choice seeing his own offspring was useless to the point of him being ashamed to have sired them at least in political matters. He, Jordan, would surely tame that will-full young phoenix-chick, even though he knew it would be the last thing he would ever do.

Even now he could feel his mind become more feral, like the flame every phoenix was born from, though this flame was nearly snuffed out in the younger generations, disregarding Mark, of course. The fall of the phoenix had been due ever since the sealing. The phoenixes' soul-fire, their very essence was fuelled by the eternal power of ley-line-energy. With the outer ley-lines shut off they had but a slightly longer mortal life and the transformation. They had purposefully thinned out their blood-line, since they had known it would come down to the point where the lines had to be either refilled or the phoenixes would be rendered unable to transform.

His ancestors had feared the state he was in now. Neither here nor there. An abomination. He could see the disgust in everyone's eyes. And the fear in Mark's, even though the younger white-phoenix still dreaded to admit it, he knew he was far more of a phoenix than Jenny or any of the others.

The gate of transformation would close at the phoenix-side for the younger man, just like it would soon for him. Shutting out the human he once was forever, or at least till there was enough ley-line-energy to cure him. But Jordan knew the sealing would not be broken in his life-time. The council-members had told him he had one year left, but he doubted it.

He strained his remaining life-force with every second he tried to uphold the last bits of humanity left in his rapidly ageing bones. His phoenix-side knew it was time for a rebirth, but without ley-line-energy there was only death that awaited him. His instincts were working against him speeding up the process he knew could never happen.

Again, anger flashed across Mark's face, an anger, Jordan knew was fear. 'I told you not to call me chick! I am a human-being not some kind of bird.'

Again, the same topic. Jordan sighed. 'You know you couldn't be further from the truth. Accepting would make things easier, for both of us. The point of no return was long since crossed, being hard-headed won't change facts, chick.' Jordan could feel Mark ruffle his feathers, a reaction that gave the bird away, no matter what the chick thought. The young bird-of-prey readied himself for the next round of their fight. Tilting his head as if his eyes were placed in a bird’s face not in a human one.

A bitter smile crept on Jordan's beak-like lips as the irony of the situation triggered his sense of humour. He knew his son-in-law in law didn't know how bird-like he had become. Jordan himself hadn't either. But now that his human guise was melting away from his true form, he could see things with a new-found sense of clarity.

If this clarity had only come to him earlier... there were many things he would have done differently. Right now, he manipulated Mark into intensifying his relationship to the dragons. He knew Mark would do everything to defy him. And he knew he had to convince him not to resign the moment he was king. Jordan Teine had to look like a real bad example to keep that unwilling monarch going. Even if it meant spending the last bit of his life-force arguing. That was why he traded himself as a reactionist. A Hutzelmann he himself detested.

But his plan worked out. The young and otherwise politically uninterested Mark looked into every single of his decisions, worked himself through the bone-dry clan-laws only to prove Jordan wrong. A feat no motivation besides spite could have ever caused. He smiled inwardly but kept up his sour facade. Merlin had been a brilliant teacher in motivating people do bring out the best they could be. He still hated the old dragon's cruel tactics. But they worked. And he had no time left for a friendly course of action.

Pleased with himself Jordan awaited Mark's refute, but a ringing phone cut their intercourse short. It was the mobile phone the two of them had reserved for council and curse busyness. Nothing else either of them deemed important enough to interrupt their debates.

Mark picked up the phone, answered the call and held up a finger, whilst activating the speaker for Jordan to participate. Then he said 'Hello Lisa, you are speaking to Mark. Jordan Teine is listening via speaker.' 'Very good. I needed to talk to his majesty either-way.' Lisa answered in a busyness-like voice. Mark knew she felt hurt by the fact he spent so much time with Jordan, since she was not inflicted by the Grey Planes heritage and their binding vows. Werewolves and vampires were both related to the infernal plane. They had other problems. But Lisa couldn't understand the inability to break or circumvent a simple promise.

'Two things. First, we have a new clue in the cursed curse-case. Second Ethan is deemed able to be interrogated.' Lisa told them.

Mark shuddered he had feared this day. It was his duty to interrogate Ethan, not because the young dragon didn't want to answer, quite the opposite actually, but he seemed unable to access any of his memories after he left the table. A white-phoenix could help remember, quite comfortable, if he knew what he did. That was actually the point Mark was unsure about. He dreaded the prospect of hurting anyone much less a friend or an ally. He sighed.

'Please tell us of the clue first. Maybe we needn't interrogate Ethan, you know I am but firm in that topic.' Mark offered.

'I will, but I guess the council will have you interrogate him nonetheless since they want to catch every last of those bastards. My apologize, your majesty.' Lisa said before she continued 'There was an old book next to Linda Fairway's body. Occult rituals and stuff... but there was also an invitation to a party. Just like next to that siren’s stuff. An old wasted manor at the far side of town. Haunted, they say. Maybe nothing, maybe the connection we have been searching for.'

'Yes, might be... Is there anything I can do for you?' Mark asked.

'Actually yes. We need you and the other heirs to get the manpower for this operation. I will inform you. Right now, I've other phone-calls to do. See you, Mark. Good-bye, your majesty.' Lisa said and hung the phone.

'Quite cold, her attitude...' Jordan remarked looking into Mark's eyes, who futilely tried to hide how hurt he was. 'At this rate you should have her call you 'your highness'. The distance would dull the pain.'

'Thank you.' Mark sighed unable to refute the logic in the older phoenix' words. His relationship he always had treasured like a real parent-child had suffered more than he would have ever thought possible. It was devastating. Like he was losing his family for the second time. His new one didn't seem to fill the gap. Yet?

'Go home. You've been here for five days straight. Or get at least some sleep. You need a break.' the old phoenix took his chance to create a positive relation once more.

Mark who had figured as much himself nodded but then halted and asked 'Will the same transformation happen to me one day?' 'If our side wins? Yes... if the others win...? No but who can say how that much energy might change you. Either-way I won't be there to witness. My time is nigh up. The clan's future is yours to fend.' Jordan answered honestly. This was not the moment to invoke spite, but a moment of truth. They both deserved it.

'Does it hurt?' Mark asked though he knew he sounded like a nosy brat he simply couldn't omit the question. Jordan smiled sadly. 'Not really. It feels awkward, though, every new feather reminds me of my end drawing in.' 'Thank you, for your honesty.' Mark nodded seriously and turned to leave the room.

'You are welcome.' Jordan said into the empty room, several minutes after the future-king had left. 'I should be the one thanking you, for with you I know our inevitable fall will be either smooth and graceful or we will go down in flames. Both is much better than me or my children could have ever created. Although I know I should wish you luck in stopping our enemies from breaking the seal, I can't say I do... because if you lose this one time, our clan will rise again. Especially if you keep on stirring this ship. Thank you, Mark. I know it's unfair to burden you with this much, but even if you won't admit it... you were born to be king.' The old phoenix smiled into the empty room and let go of the remains of his human guise. The next debates would be lead in their true form, which was much more comfortable for him and a reminder for Mark. Of what he was and always will be.