Scorn and Devotion

Chapter 36

warnings - sadness over character death, attempting to disassociate, attempt to hypnotize, mentions of killing, trading precious items for fairy wishes

I felt something freezing touch my hand ever so gently. It was colder than cold. Colder than the snow storm I'd fought through to escape the castle, colder than our frigid cell, and colder even than the ice that had come shooting from the wolf beast that attacked me. I jumped as another drop of that something fell onto my hand, turning my veins to ice.

I opened my eyes and was nearly face to face with the Phoenix. All but its head was frozen near solid. The bird was crying, and when one of its tears fell and landed on my hand I realized what the freezing liquid was. The cold began to consume me, and I expected to be wracked with shivers, but instead, it felt like tingling. My face, where the beast had mauled me, was tingling so intensely it was almost tickling me. My shoulder too, felt like it was covered in cold bugs who were walking all over my skin. I felt the pain in my body lessen drastically as the tingling continued.

The ache and burning was so healed that I was able to move slightly, turning my head to look around. Timothée was beside me, his face moist, but full of color. I concluded he must have wiped the Pheonix tears onto his face. He no longer looked weak and near death's door. My eyes lowered to the rip in his clothing. I could see no wound on his torso any longer, and the Nymph's leaves were no longer there either. For a while, it was like we existed in another world. Just Timothée, the Phoenix, and I, just looking at one another and breathing in and out. Everything moved deliciously slowly and I realized I loved this bird, this bird who was encased in ice. I hoped the bird felt as cool and refreshed as I did. But no, something was wrong with that thought. The bird was crying, and that was what was making me cool, but the Phoenix was coated in ice. A Phoenix wouldn't enjoy that because they are fire birds, and if one is too cold when it dies it can't....

I jerked up, and the excess tears that had pooled in my hand fell to the ground. They sparkled even on the obsidian floor. I grabbed the bird, holding it close, trying desperately to warm it up.

"Timothée, come, we must warm him. If he is too cold when he tries to reincarnate, he'll die for real. It's the only way to truly kill a Phoenix."

"What can I do?" He asked

"Make a fire, with your magic, we'll put him in it!"

Though he was no longer on death's door, Timothée was still tired, malnourished, and inexperienced. He held his hands up, weak flickers and sparks trying to shoot from them. I was still cradling the bird when it burst into flames. I cursed and dropped it. The flame immediately began to die down. It did not roar and blaze like I knew a Phoenix's rebirthing flame was meant to do. Then almost as soon as it had lit, it was out. On a pile of gray ash lay a featherless chick, with cold blue skin. The baby bird was obviously dead, but I tried to pick him up anyway. I began to feel my own tears come. He'd sacrificed the last bits of his powers to save us instead of warming himself up. As I held the cold lifeless body I looked around the arena.

At the other end lay the Griffin who was no more than a few pieces of meat and a pair of damaged wings. I saw the pile of rocks that represented the Golem. The DeWinged Fae lay in a crumpled heap where I'd left her. I couldn't see the remains of the faun anywhere and I realized he must have been eaten completely. I saw the still twitching body of the serpent I'd killed, though I knew those to simply be after death reflexes as it was severed in half. I saw the mostly intact carcass of the mighty Karkadann Unicorn, likely the last of its kind, and now it lay dead on the Dark King's ebony floor. I didn't search for the body of the Nymph but the green stood out to me anyway, her body was crumpled not too far away from the pale body of Opal. The ogre was across the arena with a gory, large, hole in his abdomen. The wolf creature lay on the ground, cut in two, with a gaping wound in its back where I'd stabbed it. I looked down again to the small creature in my hands. We'd won, Timothée and I were the last ones standing.