Little Phoenix

I grabbed my violin case and walked out to the balcony. I set my violin case down on the balcony floor and unlatched its latches, opening it. I grabbed my violin and my bow, standing up. I set my violin under my chin, and closed my eyes. What song should I play today? Hmm…what about…Runaway? Yeah, I’ll do that one. I began playing the opening notes to “Runaway” by AURORA.

The melody was peaceful, hard to explain. It was soft and soothing, beginning with instrumental music. It was a comforting song to hear and to play, in general. In my head, I could hear the original version of the song playing. I continued on, letting myself get lost in the music as I sang along.

“I was listenin’ to the ocean

I saw a face in the sand

But when I picked it up

Then it vanished away from my hands, dah

I had a dream, I was seven

Climbin’ my way in a tree

I saw a piece of Heaven

Waitin’ in patience for me, dah

And I was runnin’ far away

Would I run off the world someday?

Nobody knows, nobody knows

And I was dancing in the rain

I felt alive and I can’t complain

But no, take me home

Take me home where I belong

I can’t take it anymore

I was painting a picture

The picture was a painting of you

And for a moment I thought you were here

But then again, it wasn’t true, dah

And all this time I have been lyin’

Oh, lyin’ in secret to myself

I’ve been putting sorrow on the farthest place on my shelf

La-di-da

And I was runnin’ far away

Would I run off the world someday?

Nobody knows, nobody knows

And I was dancing in the rain

I felt alive and I can’t complain

But no, take me home

Take me home where I belong

I got no other place to go

No, take me home

Take me home where I belong

I got no other place to go

No, take me home

Take me home where I belong

I can’t take it anymore

But I kept runnin’ for a soft place to fall

And I kept runnin’ for a soft place to fall

And I kept runnin’ for a soft place to fall

And I kept runnin’ for a soft place to fall

And I was runnin’ far away

Would I run off the world someday?

But no, take me home

Take me home where I belong

I got no other place to go

No, take me home

Take me home where I belong

I got no other place to go

No, take me home, home where I belong, no, no

No, take me home, home where I belong, oh, oh, oh

No, take me home, home where I belong, no, no

No, take me home, home where I belong

I can’t take it anymore”

Finishing the song, I heard clapping from behind me. I spun around on my heel in surprise, seeing Devika. I let out a breath of relief, “You scared me.” Devika lightly laughed before saying, “Sorry, Eli.” I grinned as I put away my violin, closing my case and locking it. I asked, “Can we go stargazin’?” Devika nodded.

The two of us climbed onto the roof and stared at the sky. Devika grabbed her phone and after a few seconds, music began playing. The song “Twinkling Lights” by Annalise Emerick is playing from her phone speaker. Devika asked, “Is it essential to be a ‘good’ person?” I shrugged, “I wouldn’t say so. I’d say that it’s essential to be yourself. Bein’ a ‘good’ person doesn’t always mean that yeh’re bein’ yourself.”

Devika barely nodded and I continued, “Everybody has their own way. So as for the ‘right’ way, I don’t think it exists. Therefore, bein’ a ‘good’ person doesn’t exist either.” Devika murmured, “That’s a good point,” causing me to nod in agreement. Life doesn’t need to be perfect for you to truly live your life. You just need to do what makes you feel alive.

And I think that’s what makes it perfect.

I stood in my art studio, starting a new painting. The table and floor were covered in multi-coloured splattered paint—mainly the floor. The most vibrant of the colours was red and the room smelt of dry paint, the smell pricking my nose. It was a difficult smell to describe. My desk in the corner of the room had no paint on it, but instead, all of my art supplies.

Papers covered my desktop, and art supplies stood neatly organised in my organised mess of a desk. The walls had some of my painted canvases hung up on them, and there were also paper drawings hung on the wall; but underneath all the paintings and drawings was more paint splatters, these ones being mainly white and pink.

I’d put on some music—that’s currently playing in the background—as I painted onto the previously white canvas. The song that was currently playing is, “Icarus & Apollo” by Ripto. I’m singing along, this song being one of my favourite songs.

“Apollo showed me the sun

Told me not to fly too close

Or else I would be one

With the people on the land”

I dip my paintbrush into the orange-pink paint I made. I take in a short breath as before I continue singing—continuing to paint as well.

“Icarus, show me the moon

Point me in a new direction

Far away from you

Avoiding all the aftermath”

I humm the interlude, not having to sing any lyrics.

“Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm

Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm”

I inhale as I add more details to my canvas. My voice nearly matches the voice of the singer, just a more feminine tone to my voice.

“Daylight shuffles in

Cascading through the open door

And dancing on your lips

Where you held your cigarette”

I swipe my paintbrush across the canvas, adding more colour to the painting. I continued singing as I did so.

“I remember when

You told me you were afraid to die

And then you grabbed my hand

Just above the kitchen table”

The interlude came on again and I took a deep breath before humming. I swipe my paintbrush across the nearly finished painting.

“Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm

Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm”

I inhale deeply before I continue singing.

“So, Apollo, bring me back

To the place I was before I met you

And Icarus, lead the way

To where I need to go

I hear your footsteps now

Barefoot soles on the bathroom floor

And on my way out

I told you I would never leave”

The outro began to play as I finished my painting. I stare at my painting, taken aback by the amount of detail and colour it had—contrasting against my usual black and white paintings. I easily recognised the painting, it was a scene I had seen many years ago and a scene I had a Polaroid of. It was of me, Devika, and my dead girlfriend—Zephyrine.

The three of us were happy. I stood in the middle with Devika to my left and Zephyrine to my right. Zephyrine had her left arm wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me into her side with a happy grin covering her lips. Zephyrine was looking at me, adoration filling her bright green eyes. Her hair was in a ponytail, being blown back by wind.

My eyes were open, but crinkled at the sides from my true smile—a smile I hadn’t smiled since before Zephyrine’s death, which was about three years ago. The black triangles below my tear ducts—which make my eyes resemble a bird’s eyes—were easy to see. I had a wide grin on my lips, revealing my white teeth. My wings were outstretched, and for once, my hair was down.

I was waving Devika off, my hand in the air at the action, as I looked at Devika. Perched on my head was Maewyn. Maewyn was smiling, revealing her sharp teeth. Devika had her hand on Zephyrine’s wrist, using her and my shoulder as a crutch to keep herself standing. Devika had a wide smile across her face as she laughed and I recalled telling her a joke to get her to laugh.

Devika’s head was barely turned upwards and her eyes were closed—hiding her Daiemonium eyes. The wind blew all of our hair backwards. My black wings were fighting against the wind and I remember struggling to stay in place. Devika’s short charcoal hair was pushed back to reveal her pointed ears and Zephyrine’s half elf-like ears were also revealed because of her ponytail.

My barely pointed ears were revealed and so were my many lobe piercings. I smiled and nodded to myself, setting down my paints and paintbrush. I took off my paint shirt and used it to wipe my paint-covered fingertips. I dropped my paint shirt on the paint-splattered ground before making my way up to my room.

I heard my phone ringing and I groaned in annoyance. Who could possibly be callin’ me? People don’t call me, and for good reasons. I’m a bloody assassin. I grabbed my phone from my nightstand and answered it.

“Elias Tempest speakin’,” I spoke coldly. An unfamiliar voice speaks in response, “I am in need of your services.” “What’s your name and how can I help yeh?” I ask. The caller replied, “My name is Royce Collens and I need you to kill a man named Vesper Wyndelle.” I assume, “And yeh want me specifically because of my occupation?”

“That’s correct. I want to hire an assassin and you’re supposed to be the best of the best,” Royce replied. He’s not wrong about that. I am one of the best of the best. People are always hesitant to hire me because of the rumours that I kill whoever I’m hired by as well. It’s not an entirely incorrect rumour, but still.

I told him, “Assassins are expensive, especially off the black market. How much are yeh willin’ to pay me?” Royce answered, “I will pay you as much as you’re wanted by bounty hunters.” He’s willin’ to pay me 25 libellam dedisset for a single man. He must really want this man dead. I asked, “When do yeh need Mr. Wyndelle dead?”

“Doesn’t matter. I just need him dead soon.”

I told him, “Good to know. Meet me at the assassin praetorium in Mortiferum on Sabbaday at Septuaginta in the afternoon, with the money,” hanging up before he can say anything else. I dropped my phone onto my bed before grabbing my laptop. I outstretched my wings to the sides and sat back down on my circle bed. My wings fell down onto my bed and I opened my laptop, beginning my research.

I quickly get dressed into my assassin uniform to go meet Royce. I put on my athletic fit, navy blue, sleeveless turtleneck, carefully weaving my wings through the tight shirt, and a pair of black, tight, skinny jeans.

I neatly tucked my turtleneck into my jeans and I quickly did my makeup before I grabbed my pair of socks and quickly put them on. I grabbed my black, wrist length, leather fingerless gloves and put them on. I picked up my dagger holster and put it on my left thigh. I grabbed my gold dagger sheath with my dagger in it and put it in my holster.

I stand up and grab my katana holster from off the floor. I put the holster around my waist and put my sheathed katana in it. I grabbed my pair of black combat boots and put them on, quickly lacing up the laces and buckling the buckles.

I let out a loud whistle and within a few seconds, Maewyn came flying into my room as I stuffed my phone in my back pocket. Maewyn landed on my right shoulder, where my shoulder guard currently is—protecting me from Maewyn’s sharp claws. I lifted my left hand up to Maewyn’s head, and Maewyn rubbed her face against my index finger, trilling in content.

I told her, “Wae are relicto fer Mortiferum. Ai need tu locate mea victima.” Maewyn let out a ‘scra’ sound in response and I walked over to my balcony doors. I grabbed the handles and twisted them, opening the doors. I walked onto my balcony, leaving the doors open. I closed my eyes as the wind twisted around us. It’s a good day to go flying.

I asked Maewyn, “Due vos want tu volare?” Maewyn barely shook her head, letting out a growl. No, then. I told her, “I have to hold yeh then.” Maewyn shuffled around, moving so she sat in my arms. I nodded to myself and I outstretched my wings to make sure I had enough room. I took a few steps back and brought in my wings before running forward and front-flipping off the balcony.

I outstretched my wings and the wind caught me, allowing me to glide for a few feet. I flapped my wings a few times, bringing me higher in the air before I just glided through the nearly empty air, making my way towards the assassin praetorium in Mortiferum.