Out of the Ashes Arose a Hero

A pile of ashes. An altar. A silent temple. Suddenly, a grown man emerged from the ashes and stretched. The majestic phoenix had lain on the altar and burnt to ash. Yet, born from the ashes, not a young phoenix, but a man; a warrior whose sword and hair set him apart. His shoulder-length locks were scarlet and gold as the plumage of the great bird. “I have been reborn a man that I may save the earth from some great evil. So had Fate declared by altering my magical cycle in this way.”

Armed with this knowledge, the new man leapt from the altar and strode through the temple, leaving by the east door. From the Temple of the Phoenix in Egypt he traveled, to a valley in Greece full of burnt villages. At last Phoenix stopped and drew his blade. “The hour has come.”

A dragon rose from behind a hill, silhouetted by the setting sun. It was ten times the size of a basilisk with ragged black wings broad as lakes. It roared, and a fire like a volcano’s spray filled the sky.

The king of birds held high his sword, and its runes shot beams light. Phoenix shouted, his voice magnified by the valley before him. “Vile beast, creature of evil! Mankind has a protector and will not die. I, Phoenix, will destroy you!”

The dragon flew into him, and they hit the valley floor together and fought. All night the battle raged. At last, as the sky grew pink, Phoenix sunk his sword to the hilt in the monster’s heart. With a final roar, the dragon burst into flame and went out like a snuffed candle. All that was to be seen was a hill of ash in the middle of the plain. Everything was still and silent.

Without warning, the sun rose over the hilltops and a phoenix, scarlet and gold, burst from the pile of ash and rose with the sun, followed by a fire from its wings and tail. The phoenix, king of the birds, soared skywards, disappearing into the clouds.