A week had passed since the Warriors of Light departed.

  The Dark Lands had fallen into an unusual silence. The Lord of Darkness blamed it on the absence of the “noisy creatures of light.”

  Phoenix knew better.

  Solis had promised he would return.

  Before leaving, he had given her a pendant — small, warm to the touch, glowing faintly like captured sunrise.

  She never admitted how often she held it.

  Phoenix was deep in combat practice when Asteria appeared out of nowhere and snatched the sword from her hands.

  “Idiot!” Asteria grinned.

  “Return my sword,” Phoenix commanded sharply.

  Asteria obeyed, placing the blade carefully upon the white marble platform before them.

  The Sword of Darkness.

  Forged by both Light and Dark. Second most powerful weapon in existence. A blade that chose its master.

  Years ago, it had chosen her.

  “I’m sorry,” Asteria said, unusually sincere. “I shouldn’t have interrupted.”

  Phoenix exhaled slowly. “Why are you here?”

  “I’ve come to claim the wish you granted me months ago.”

  Phoenix narrowed her eyes. “The one you said you would ask for when the time was right?”

  Asteria nodded. “I am bored. And this is the right time.”

  “What do you want?”

  “A trip to the human world.”

  “No.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Asteria smirked. “Are you going back on your word, my lord?”

  Phoenix stared at her.

  Trapped.

  "Fine. When?”

  “Now.”

  They arrived in Paris.

  The humans called it The City of Love.

  Phoenix found the title amusing.

  It felt more like the City of Art.

  Asteria vanished within minutes, leaving Phoenix alone.

  “If she intended to explore alone, why drag me here?” Phoenix muttered. “If Father discovers this…”

  She looked down at herself.

  Black full-sleeve shirt. Black jeans.

  Human clothing.

  Solis would have approved.

  The thought unsettled her.

  She walked through the streets, observing.

  Humans passed her in waves — laughing, arguing, crying, holding hands. Their emotions were unguarded. Raw.

  She remembered her last visit to the human world — Georgia, with her father.

  She had loved the hospitals most.

  Not because of suffering.

  Because of doctors.

  They fought death with bare hands.

  Without thinking further, she turned toward the nearest hospital.

  She slipped inside unnoticed.

  A white coat hung unattended.

  Moments later—

  “Doctor!” a nurse rushed toward her. “Emergency! A thirty-year-old woman and her five-year-old son. Car accident."

  "The child is critical.”

  “Take me there,” Phoenix said instantly.

  The emergency room was chaos.

  The mother lay wounded, sobbing uncontrollably.

  On the adjacent bed—

  The child lay still.

  Phoenix needed only one glance.

  Death had already claimed him.

  “Please!” the mother cried, clutching Phoenix’s hand. “Take my life instead! Please save my son!”

  Phoenix held her shoulders firmly.

  “I will do everything in my power,” she said quietly.

  The nurse hesitated. “Doctor…”

  “Attend to the mother,” Phoenix ordered.

  When the room cleared, she stood alone beside the child.

  She closed her eyes.

  The chants her father had taught her — forbidden chants — rose to her lips.

  She knew the laws.

  Death does not release what it claims.

  Nature demands balance.

  There would be a price.

  She did not care.

  Fire bloomed in her palm.

  Golden.

  Alive.

  She pressed it gently to the child’s chest.

  Pain exploded through her body instantly.

  It tore through muscle and bone, searing her from within.

  Rebirth demands sacrifice.

  She pushed deeper.

  The pain intensified.

  For a moment, darkness swallowed her vision—

  Then—

  The child inhaled sharply.

  His eyes fluttered open.

  Phoenix staggered back, breath trembling.

  The mother rushed forward, sobbing, clutching her son.

  “Thank you,” she cried, falling to her knees before Phoenix. “May God bless you for eternity. Your mother would be so proud of you…”

  Those words struck harder than the pain.

  Phoenix gently helped her up.

  She said nothing.

  She left quietly.

  Outside, the Eiffel Tower glowed against the night sky.

  Phoenix stood still beneath it.

  “Would you be proud of me?” she whispered softly.

  The wind offered no answer.

  Behind her, Paris laughed and lived and loved.

  And somewhere within the City of Love—

  Fate was preparing to introduce her to the fire that would consume her.