The Phoinix: Age of Demigods (3 page)

A group of Celtic warriors and a royal
Etruscan convoy were standing around a young Etrusci girl on top of
a Celtic boy, both thirteen years old. The Etrusci girl held a
Celtic Long sword with a polished ivory bone at the hilt to the
boy’s throat. The sharp blade nicked the side of his
neck.

The boy gently pushed the girl’s brown
hair out of her eyes. He spoke sweet and soft, almost a whisper,
“It’s ok, Breanna. It’s me, Eoghan. Where are you? Come back to me,
now.”

“I swear I will kill you, Ares,”
Breanna spit at the boy.

“I’m not Ares, Breanna. Please come
back to me,” Eoghan begged, his voice wavering in panic. The
butterflies in his stomach zoomed sending a shiver through his
body.

Bre gritted her teeth, pushing harder
against the blade in response.

“Tell me your name,” Eoghan demanded,
moving his hands to the blade to resist the attack.

“
You know full well who I
am!” Breanna yelled, her sweaty hands shaking against the ivory
hilt.

“Tell me your name,”
Eoghan repeated
softly and
drawn-out
.

“Tyreneas!” Breanna
screamed, pushing harder. Eoghan’s hands
bled
from gripping the sharp edge:
the only grip preventing the sword from slicing through his
throat.

A group of Etrusci soldiers moved to
help Eoghan, but he ordered them to stop. “Don’t touch
her!”

Eoghan’s protectiveness at his own
peril sparked something familiar in Breanna’s chest. Her stomach
sank as her mind cleared, as if from a fog, and she saw whom she
was straddling.

“Eoghan?” Breanna blinked, clearing
her vision to make sure what she was seeing was correct. Her voice
was void of any malice.

Breanna sweat as every muscle throbbed
in her body. Glancing around, she found her parents and a group of
soldiers staring at her, afraid to move.

“It happened again, didn’t it?”
Breanna asked Eoghan, ashamed. Tears filled her eyes.

“No, listen to me. You
have nothing to be ashamed of here. It’s the Blood-Moon, not you,”
Eoghan said and wiped away tears from
her
reddening eyes. Her painful
embarrassment was like a sharp knife to his chest.

Breanna looked at the wounds on
Eoghan’s palms and cried harder, her whole body shaking.

“
Oh, Breanna, I’m alright.
You didn't hurt me. I am safe.” Eoghan’s Gaelic accent relaxed
Breanna and she fell into his body.

Eoghan loosened Bre’s grip on the
sword and tossed it aside, wrapping his arms around the shaking
girl.

“These Blood-Moon nightmares are
getting worse, Brian,” one man in a general’s uniform and silver
crown said to the Celtic warrior. “Nothing we try is
working.”

“I fear the gods are at play with us,
Remus,” Brian answered back, “and if that is true, this nightmare
is only beginning.”

“What does she dream of?” King Remus
asked Brian.

“If I am correct in the recognizing
the names in her dreams, she is reliving the history of the goddess
Elpis. Tyreneas was a Greek demigod, the son of Ares and the father
of Elpis,” Brian replied, fear filling his blue eyes.

A tall woman with strawberry-blonde
hair and a silver crown to match Remus’ stood next to him, wrapping
her arm around his. Her body trembling, she said, “She is only a
child, thirteen years of age; it is too soon.”

“She is no child, Queen Alina. She is
an heiress in many ways. During these Blood-Moon terrors, Breanna
is reenacting Elpis’ memories as well as those who played a part in
her life. She is reliving the tale of her powers’ creation. That is
the only explanation for Breanna to be possessed by Tyreneas’
spirit. I fear for the remaining characters,” Brian sighed heavily.
“Her body is preparing itself. Breanna’s time as The Queen is
near,” warned Brian.

Remus sighed and bit his lower lip.
“Alina, take her to bed and see that she stays asleep.”

Alina, forgetting her queenly
presence, rushed to Breanna. She pulled her off Eoghan, who was
still tightly cradling her. Alina supported her daughter’s weight
as she guided Bre into the royal tent.

“Let’s all get back to sleep,” King
Remus ordered the group.

Remus placed a hand on Brian’s arm
before he could return to his tent. “I want to know what the gods
have in store for my daughter.”

“Mars came to you the night she was
born, you know what she is to become,” said Brian.

“That is not what I mean, Brian. You
can see the…”

“I know what you mean, Remus,” Brian
said, cutting off his friend. “You do not want to know her future.
It is light and happy yet dark and tragic. It constantly
changes.”

“Alina can’t sleep until she knows,”
Remus said imploringly.

“Alina
won’t
sleep if she knows,” warned
Brian. He abruptly ended the conversation by returning to his
tent.

Chapter 3

Truth and Deceit

S
tanding 5’7” with blonde, wavy hair
that met
the small of her back,
Elpis entered the throne room on Mount Olympus. She wore a white
silk dress with a scarlet cloak
.
She
smiled
as
her grandmother
met her at the doorway
.

“Look at you,” Anath beamed at her
beautiful granddaughter. “Twenty-five days since your arrival here
and you are a master of the arts, history, war, and languages of
the world.”

Elpis lowered her blue eyes, blushing
from her grandmother’s praise.

“Don’t be coy,” Anath laughed at
Elpis’ shyness. “Come, I want to show you something.” Anath wrapped
an arm around Elpis’ shoulders and pulled her close.

Anath and Elpis walked out of the
golden gates of Mount Olympus and plunged downward through the
clouds to earth, landing in a battlefield. Anath made herself and
Elpis invisible so they could walk among the mortals
unnoticed.

“The goddesses of wisdom have taught
you well in the history of the world and in the art of war,” Anath
said, pointing to the battlefields of Troy.

The metallic smell of the blood soaked
dirt made Elpis scrunch her nose. She hid her face in the folds of
her cloak, inhaling the floral scent left over from its wash in
rose water.

“What is this place?” asked
Elpis.

“This will be known as the Trojan War:
a war that soon must come to an end.”

“How?”

“That is yet to be decided,” Anath
gave Elpis a pitying look.

The look frightened Elpis. She could
not help but sense that Anath knew her future and it was not a
bright one. She refocused her attention to the battle to distract
from her fear.

They walked into the thick of the
battle where two men stood out amongst the soldiers. Both soldiers
had tossed aside their helmets as they fought their way through
battle, slaying men as they approached. One soldier wore bronze
armor covered in black leather with a sigil of crossing gold spears
on his chest. The other soldier dressed in similar bronze armor
plated with gold. Attached to the shoulders of his breastplate, a
purple cape embroidered with a rearing white stallion whipped
behind him.

“These two soldiers are the heroes
Achilles and Hector. Neither will survive this war,” Anath informed
Elpis, pointing to each man.

Squinting, Elpis could see that the
man dressed in black leather had a silver shimmer to his skin. “I
see Achilles bares the mark of the River Styx. How could he not
survive? Can you not spare him?”

“The cost of saving a life marked for
death is too great. To save a life you must take a life. It is
better not to defy the wishes of Hades or any other Lord of Death.
If they want a life, that life will be taken,” Anath warned. “Do
you understand what I say?”

Elpis nodded, but it pained her to
know that these men were marked for the funeral pyre. She winced as
she vividly imagined the bright orange flames engulfing their
bodies against the night sky.

Anath returned Elpis to Mount Olympus
where the gods held a giant feast in Elpis’ honor. Elpis tried to
put the horrible images of war out of her mind, but they slowly
crept back as she searched for a way to save the men.

As the festivities dwindled, everyone
grew quiet and eyed Elpis suspiciously. Uneasy with the attention,
Elpis stood to return to her bedroom. Suddenly, a bright white
light filled the room, followed by a stabbing, burning pain in the
middle of her back. Elpis collapsed to the ground, groping at the
pain. She turned to see the gods anxiously watching her.

Elpis climbed back to her feet,
holding her head after the dizzying attack. Out of the corner of
her eye, she saw that the skin of her hands and arms had a gold
shimmer. She kept turning her hand over, astonished at her new skin
tone. She flipped her hand too fast and a lightning bolt shot out
from her palm, narrowly missing Hermes hovering by a
pillar.

“What have you done to me?” Elpis
shouted, her hands trembling with fear.

“Before you go on a rampage attacking
us all, we told you before that you have a higher purpose,”
explained Mars, the Roman god of war.

The Celtic goddess of magic and
divination, Andraste, stepped forward to explain the purpose of
Elpis’ creation. She revealed every detail from the beginning of
the War Council to the path she must lead on earth.

“I am expected to end a ten-year war
and bring peace to the entire world?” Rage flared in Elpis’
eyes.

“Yes,” the Egyptian god Thoth answered
coldly.

“Tonight is the night you part ways
with us, my dear.” Anath stroked the back of Elpis’ head. “It is
your duty to be the savior of humanity, to save them from
themselves.”

“I will bring you down within the
walls of Troy.” Apollo stood, motioning for his horse and chariot.
“I am the patron god of the city and I am counting on you to be its
heroine.”

“Be your own savior! Why am I expected
to do your work while you sit up high and watch?” Elpis jerked away
from her grandmother’s touch.

“Because that is your job, young one,”
Mot pushed his chair out and walked towards Elpis. He moved slowly
with his hands held out in a ‘don’t shoot me with lightning’
manor.

Elpis was angry, but she knew better
than to cross the oldest god in the room. She struggled against her
own body urging her to attack Mot. The Power coursing through her
veins begged for release. In the distance, a golden eagle flew
towards her.

Mot watched carefully as Elpis balled
her hands into fists and bit her lower lip in an attempt to control
her anger.

“That anger is partly due
to your grandfather,” Mot said as he threw his thumb in Ares’
direction. “It is an emotion you need to control. You will need it
at times, but it is not your job to create destruction. You are the
protector of peace; anger will only lead to more death. Humanity is
not all who needs you. Their wars teeter on the edge of destroying
entire civilizations. Once a god’s civilization is destroyed, we
become mortal and will die not long after. Our survival depends
on
us
being
worshiped
as divine beings. If we have no one to rule then we have no
purpose to exist.”

As Elpis listened to Mot, the eagle
drew closer until it landed on the table in front of her. She could
almost feel its silky feathers on her fingertips. Its razor sharp
talons glistened like the blade of a sword, and its jade beak
sparkled against the light of the room.

Mot smiled at Elpis
as she stared
in awe of
the eagle. “Every god has a patron animal, Elpis. This is to be
yours. A beautiful fierce creature made of silk and power. It is
your symbol
…your sigil
of hope.”

Apollo’s horse and chariot arrived
outside the doorway. Mot placed an arm around Elpis to guide her
towards the chariot. “You must go now. Listen to the powers within
you and you will save us all.”

She climbed into the chariot with
Apollo. With a slash of his whip, the chariot sped off through the
clouds, down towards the earth. She glared back at the gods, who
were now nothing but a blur of colors in the distance.

* * *

“
Whoa! And where are you
going, Your Highness?” a familiar Gaelic accent startled Breanna
from her dream.

Breanna woke up cradled in Eoghan’s
arms, the grey underside of her balcony greeting her as the
Blood-Moon disappeared behind clouds.

“Did I…” Bre trailed off, unable to
finish. She swallowed hard from the nausea creeping up her throat
and pointed at the balcony.

“Jump off your balcony into my strong
arms because you couldn't wait until the morning to see me?” Eoghan
flashed a giant white smile, the one that always made her blush. He
squeezed her tight in his arms.