The Phoenix Stone

Chapter Two

When I came downstairs a few hours later my grandmother was nowhere to be found. She wasn't feeding the chickens, she wasn't washing our clothes, and she wasn't in her room. I looked around for about half an hour before I saw my grandmother appear from the woodland path.

"There you are! I was looking for you! I was getting worried because it's almost pitch black out here now!" I gave her a big hug. "I was thinking and I just wanted to say sorry for my outburst. It wasn't very respectful."

She looked confused. "What outburst? I'm afraid I don't remember, dearie. Could you remind me?" We went in the door and she put down her basket which was full of little brown mushrooms.

"Of course. I got upset because we were talking about how you wanted to—" Something clicked in my mind. The mushrooms she'd collected were a type of mushroom that my grandmother absolutely hated.

"Are you feeling alright, Grandmother? Usually you don't get that kind of mushroom because you hate them."

"Oh, dearie," my grandmother waved me off, "I just felt like eating something different tonight. I'm a bit bored with the meals we've been having lately."

"But—" Then it hit me. My grandmother had a phenomenal memory and had never forgotten anything I'd ever said. And, she never called me any pet names, only Nyx. That was when I realised this wasn't my grandmother, it was someone who had used magic to look like her. A shapeshifter and an imposter.

"Sit down...Grandmother. Let me make you a cup of tea." I decided that it would probably be safest for both me and my grandmother if I just pretended that it was really her. Especially seeing as I couldn't use my magic very well.

"Oh, thank you, dearie. That would be delightful." The imposter sat down heavily and picked up the Phoenix Sword. "Could you refresh my memory, dearie? What is this sword's name?"

"Uhhhh." My mind was racing but I couldn't think of any believable fake names. "It's called the uhhh...the Chicken Sword? Yeah, the Chicken Sword!"

The imposter raised their eyebrows, obviously suspicious of my hesitation and my answer. "Really? You don't seem very sure of yourself."

"That's because I was trying to remember it myself. I couldn't remember but I knew it had a very obscure name and an interesting backstory." I bluffed.

"Hmm. Could you remind me of that too, please?"

"Yeah! It was forged five thousand years ago by a now extinct race of half chicken half humans called the Ickenchay. It was originally used as a normal sword but then the ruler of the Ickenchay decided that he liked it better as a fancy carving knife for his feasts. I doubt it's been used as a weapon since then."

"How interesting. How very, very interesting." The imposter rubbed their chin thoughtfully. "It must've been quite a powerful sword back in its prime, don't you think?"

"Of course! I mean, just look at it!" I said, stifling a giggle. This entire story was hilariously fake and I was actually starting to enjoy making it up.

"Intriguing. Well, I think it's time for you to go to bed now. I'm feeling a bit sleepy myself," the imposter said, rising from their seat.

"But we haven't had supper yet!" My stomach had been complaining for a while now. "I'm hungry!"

The imposter sighed and began to say something but was cut off by its stomach growling. "Okay, but I'm feeling very tired right now. Could you please make supper, dearie? Call me when it's ready." It got up and went into my grandmother's room and closed the door loudly.