The Black Phoenix

Chapter Two: Knight-General Tamandani

I skip ahead a few feet before glancing back. Dog nods for me to continue. Gator and Sparrow are small figures already, their backs to us. I can imagine they're eager to go back to the base where it's warm and not creepy.

The flame sphere illuminates the narrow passageway so we can see about fifty metres ahead, though it may be able to do more if there are less turns and curves.

The cavern walls are ice cold and slightly wet. The dirt floor is soft and almost spongy against my combat boots. The air is a little humid. I hear a hum, as if from the falls, but it seems unlikely that I can hear the hush of the water from inside the cavern. It sounds like music. It almost makes me want to sing. If I couldn't practically feel Dog's moodiness pointed like a dagger at my back, I probably would.

I whistle, or rather, attempt to. Never really learned how to do it. Dog once spent almost an hour trying to teach me before we realized how much time we had wasted on something so incredibly trivial. Trivial for me, anyway. The Black Crown Warriors whistle to communicate sometimes, but I can signal using flame or lightning sparks. Still think it could be useful in a stitch, though. Oh, well. I can't do everything.

"Are you keeping track of the path?" I ask.

"It's one way so far."

"Right, right."

He gives a weary exhale and I am so glad I'm walking ahead of him so I can roll my eyes with all the will I desire. Dog's moodiness permeates the air. The tension is getting even more frustrating than usual. Something is obviously bothering him, but I don't know how to ask him about it. He snaps, then I snap, then we fight, and then we don't talk for days. It always ends up hurting him more than me. I have a life outside being the Black Phoenix. All he has is himself.

I hum.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Sorry."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Huh?"

"You never say sorry."

I glance back over my shoulder for a second but keep walking. Dog looks more sullen than angry. Earlier he was upset that I was late, but that's not the reason he's mad.

It's a few more minutes until I realize what's bothering him, and when I remember, it hits me pretty hard too.

Tomorrow's Reflection Day.

Princess Caelestis was not always the First Heir of the Northern Quarter. Once upon a time she had an older brother. Eight years ago, Prince Nikhil and several members of his squadron went to investigate the Daire House for more information on the Daire House Chemical Fire. It was not an official military mission, and they hadn't told anyone. Instead of an investigation, there was a massacre.

I lost a brother. Dog lost his twin and more. He was the only survivor. They call the ones who died the Seven Reflections of Irela. They call Dog, or rather, his real name, the Lost Reflection of Irela. He hates it, obviously.

Over the last few years, Reflection Day's turned into a patriotic carnival of nationalistic pride. I'm sure I'm not the only one wondering if there's going to be another incident in the Daire House before the next eighth year mark comes along. Reflection Day used to be a time of mourning. Now it's what the White Crown Project is turning into—a sell. Remember our prince? Wasn't he precious and full of potential? Now he's dead. Let's all feel bad and helpless and like garbage. Is everyone crying yet? Good.

I think Reflection Day reminds Dog of what his life had been like before the Daire House Massacre. He doesn't talk about it, so maybe it's just in my head, but I'm sure he wonders, like I do, the person he would have become if the Daire House Massacre never happened. I wonder that about myself too. Maybe the Black Phoenix wouldn't exist.