The Phoenix Chronicles: Rebirth

By Eric M Sipe

Two thousand years ago, thirteen Roman soldiers were cursed to be reborn again and again, with each past incarnation trapped in the current incarnation’s mind. Over time, these cursed people grew more powerful, and through an organization called the Phoenix Council, they amassed power and influence to conquer most of the world. These self-proclaimed phoenixes now rule with an iron fist. They enjoyed uncontested power until six phoenixes grew unsatisfied with the council and rebelled, hurling the world into a dark civil war. Most of the phoenixes died in the war, only for the world to wait for them to return.

Andrew Cromartie lives a lazy, carefree life in New Rome. One day, his twin, Rose, convinces him to attend the citys quincentennial celebration. There he discovers that he is the next sapphire phoenix. But there are a few problems: the Phoenix Council blames his past incarnation for starting the last war, and Andrews past incarnations have sealed themselves away. Now Andrew must rely on an unlikely group of allies to avoid falling into the machinations of the other phoenixes, all of whom have a different plot to use their timely rebirth for their own goals.

Can Andrew survive and forge his own destiny?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 14, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546229049

Eric M Sipe

Eric was born in Japan and moved frequently until his father retired from the US Navy. Born with a medical condition that severely limited his hearing until the age of four, he had to overcome many speech and learning issues. Today, Eric enjoys reading, playing tabletop games with his friends, and playing with his cats Nyanta and Happy. Learn more about the world and gain access to Phoenix Echoes at: www.ThePhoenixCouncil.com

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© 2017 Eric M Sipe. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse  02/25/2020

ISBN: 978-1-5462-2905-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-2903-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-2904-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018901916

Design by Jason Misla.

Cover illustration by Hannah Cruz.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Prologue

Part 1

Chapter 1   Everyday Life

Chapter 2   The Quincentennial

Chapter 3   Looming Appointments

Chapter 4   Dinner at the Cromartie House

Chapter 5   Tango in the Dark

Chapter 6   Aegri Somnia

Chapter 7   Arrivals

Chapter 8   Departures

Chapter 9   Mind Games

Chapter 10   Interrogation

Part 2

Chapter 11   The Cabin in the Woods

Chapter 12   Infiltration

Chapter 13   Of Mice and Men

Chapter 14   Hunters

Chapter 15   The Old Chief

Chapter 16   Lost and Found

Chapter 17   Breakthrough

Chapter 18   The Gemstone Curse

Chapter 19   The Freak versus Radioactive Girl

Chapter 20   Broken Heart

Chapter 21   Winter

Part 3

Chapter 22   The Ruins by the Bay

Chapter 23   Oni

Chapter 24   The Diamond Phoenix

Chapter 25   Gatherers

Chapter 26   Many Paths, One Destiny

Chapter 27   The War Arrives

Chapter 28   Intrigue and Misdirection

Chapter 29   Hope Fades

Chapter 30   All or Nothing

Chapter 31   The Many Roads Traveled

PROLOGUE

February 1, 1977

Overlooking the smoldering ruins of the once great city, on a burning hill just inside the bomb’s massive blast radius, Cynthia Hightower clung to life. Bleeding deeply from many wounds and burned from the explosion, Cynthia gritted her teeth as she crawled toward her fallen former lover. Blood splatters covered her graying blond hair, normally kept in a neat bouffant but now matted and clumped with dry blood. The left side of her body was badly charred, which made every movement extremely painful. Ash fell from the sky, and the smells of burned flesh and scorched stone assailed her nostrils as she focused her anger on the injured man on the hill. Her sapphire eyes burned angrily at Zane, who had caused this devastation in a desperate attempt to kill her. As she dragged her failing, lithe body over to him, he turned his head slightly to watch her struggle.

Zane’s brown hair had been burned almost entirely away; his face was extremely red from the heat his body had endured. His back suffered terribly from major burns, and the tattered remains of his shirt clung painfully to his wounds. His emerald eyes peered back at her hatefully for a moment before he let that hate slip away. A deep sadness replaced all his other emotions as Cynthia finally reached him. He relaxed his body, knowing death would soon come for them both, and looked around at the surroundings. She had chosen this place for them to die, the hill where they both had strong memories with each other. It was the last place they had both been happy together, many years before, when times were… better.

Cynthia remained wary as she approached; Zane was extremely dangerous even in this state. He saw her apprehension and raised his hand weakly to show he had no interest in fighting or in her coming lecture. He had already heard it dozens of times before—how all of this could have been avoided and how hundreds of thousands lay dead, all over a cause he did not even believe in.

Ignoring his gesture, she slapped him in the face, tears in her eyes for the first time in a very, very long time. Knowing she was doomed, she let her rage boil to the surface. Zane, you bastard, Cynthia whispered, her voice barely audible over the hot vortex of wind blowing past them.

A half chuckle, half cough erupted from Zane’s cracked lips, which ended in another slap.

You bastard! Cynthia screamed with all her might. She collapsed next to him, sending ash into the air. Is there no limit to the Phoenix Council’s lust for power? Zane, this is on you as much as it’s on Magnus and the others. You’re a murderer—you’ve slaughtered so many innocents! How do you think Joseph feels about that?

The mention of his adoptive father wiped the smile from Zane’s face. He looked away shamefully, knowing that his actions over the last decade must have been incredibly painful for the kind man. Looking back now, Zane had his doubts about whether it had been worth it. He tried to sit up but grimaced in pain and gave up the idea of ever getting up again. He knew now that his body was fully broken. He sighed and decided to commit to this argument, one he had dodged since he left her.

Yes, I’m a murderer, and so are you, Zane began angrily. In fact, all of our little group of damned souls were murderers from the very start! Is that not how we got here in the first place? I know you’re not so delusional that you honestly see yourself as innocent in all of this. If you’d have just abandoned your cause and dispersed your armies, we’d never have come down this road in the first place. You knew the council was serious—I warned you what they were willing to do! Delhi, Baghdad, and Lagos made it exceedingly clear that this would be the outcome if you refused to back down.

The expression on his face was so fierce that Cynthia though he might jump up and shout out a declaration of hatred and frustration to the world.

Instead, he just ended softly with a confession they both knew was true. You didn’t listen, and now innocent blood is on both of our hands once more.

They exchanged angry looks in silence for a short while before Zane looked away, unable to look into those glowing eyes any longer. Their paths had taken such a drastic turn. Both had done such terrible things to the other and could never reconcile the other’s choices, even in their final moments. So they sat there, listening to the screams of the city as it died, the survivors succumbing to burns and radiation.

Zane, you stole these people’s lives from them. This will stain you for generations to come, Cynthia whispered quietly. She knew her own legacy was forever tarnished as well.

My life was stolen from me before I was ever born, so excuse me for not caring about the normal people who got to live their lives the way they wanted until the very end. Unlike them, we will soon be reborn to repeat this whole damned thing over and over again! Zane’s face turned to regret as a swirl of emotions flooded into him from his past lives.

The truth of his words was not lost on Cynthia; she knew very well how he felt. Both had lived many separate lives since being condemned by the Gemstone Curse. Over two thousand years had passed, and all thirteen souls who had taken part in a terrible crime still anguished over it to this day. They had been cursed that night, to be reincarnated again and again, with all their past incarnations intact in their current incarnation’s mind. Soon Cynthia and Zane would be imprisoned with their past lives, trapped forever to watch as endless generations suffered the same fate they were now living.

The curse had been manipulated by those cursed souls, who now dubbed themselves phoenixes and who were determined to make the most out of their many lives. The phoenixes’ knowledge had compounded over the years. They utilized the fact that they were reborn to hoard wealth while extending influence over centuries, culminating in the Phoenix Council, an organization that now ruled most of the planet with an iron fist and with nearly unlimited resources at their disposal.

With our deaths, this war will finally end. Two members of the Phoenix Council yet survive. The world will remain in our control. You have failed yet again, Cynthia. I hope the next heir to Sapphire will be less aggressive in the next life, stated Zane flatly, without malice or accusation.

Cynthia silently contemplated the fact that the rebellion she had helped start in her youth was truly beaten. She sighed deeply as she felt her body begin to grow cold and numb. Her own time would soon end as well. She looked over to the broken man and tried to remember a time when she had loved him, when they had been the best of friends. She grabbed him by the hand and gingerly lowered herself next to him. Perhaps it was time to end their hate. She wanted to finish this chapter in her miserable life with some semblance of closure.

Zane felt her hand, steady compared to his shaking, weak grip. He squeezed it as tightly as he could, but soon his strength vanished entirely, and he felt nothing.

The smoke and ash began to clear, revealing a low moon over the destroyed city. The screams had entirely stopped, and the wind blew the stench and smoke away. The world had already begun to move on, as it always did from such tragedy. The moment was more than either could have expected three hours ago, when their deadly fight began.

Zane began to seize, and Cynthia felt his hand grow cold in hers. He slowly turned his head and raised his free hand to her hair in an impossible attempt to straighten it. He had always commented on how pretty her hair was; it was a memory Cynthia had always cherished. She allowed his touch and could not help but feel a deep regret about how everything had turned out between them. Once they had been a shining beacon of hope for the world; now they were a symbol of all that was wrong. Tonight, they had just finished killing their fifth major city along with most of its population. They had plunged the world into the darkest pits of warfare, burning everything in their wake. She turned her glowing sapphire eyes to Zane, whose own eyes had begun to dim from a bright emerald to an almost normal green.

I truly hope our heirs don’t carry on our hate, Zane whispered as he closed his eyes. His burned hand slowly fell, brushing her cheek and smearing the dirt with a tear from her dimming sapphire eyes. With his last breath escaping, he whispered, No… more… regrets, his final word barely more than an exhale.

We shall see what happens, my love, Cynthia whispered, knowing he was already gone. A loud crash rang out over the night as the Eiffel Tower finally succumbed to the heat and toppled over. Ash once more shot into the air, joining the dispersing mushroom cloud that still menacingly hung over the night sky. Fortunately, that choice will no longer be in our hands, she whispered. She closed her eyes as death enveloped her, and the Sapphire Phoenix died for the ninth time.

Cynthia suddenly found herself in complete darkness, and a cold fear filled her as she sat up. She could feel that her wounds were gone and knew she was within her mind’s eye. A small light appeared, and a metallic pool formed from it. Within the pool, she could see a doctor wearing blue scrubs standing next to a man with dark black skin wearing a white suit. The man in the white suit picked up the newborn and stared down, expressionless, rotating the wet babe, inspecting it as an inventor would inspect a new device. He handed the newborn over to a young boy, who looked down with a warm smile. A cry broke the silence of the darkness as the vision from the pool rotated to show another baby, still wet from birth.

Hi, Andrew! I’m Trevor! cooed the young boy to the baby in his arms. Your sister Rose is over there. You’re a part of our family now! The man in the white suit handed the second baby to Trevor, carefully cradling one in each arm. The vision shifted to show an exhausted woman with light blond hair. Hey, Rose, Trevor continued. This is your brother Andrew. You don’t have to cry anymore. I promise to protect you both forever! Trevor happily promised. The twins quieted slightly as Trevor hugged them in soft blankets.

This is so weird, Cynthia said to herself. She watched her next life’s first moments in awe. It was a surreal feeling, seeing the world from the perspective of a newborn.

Yeah, well, we have a plan to make things normal for the kid here, said a man, appearing from the darkness beside her. He was dressed in black dyed leather, and a variety of colored feathers hung from his raven-black hair under a wide-brimmed black hat. Large sapphire earrings dangled from his ears. His wide, obnoxious smile always made Cynthia want to punch him in his smug pirate face.

Jacob, what are you guys planning now? Cynthia moaned, just now realizing that she was going to be trapped with him for all of eternity.

Come along. The others are awaiting you, Jacob answered, turning and walking off into the darkness.

Cynthia shrugged and followed. Not like I have anywhere else to go, she muttered, leaving the shimmering pool.

PART 1

CHAPTER 1

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EVERYDAY LIFE

New Rome City, New Rome

The rain had come out of nowhere. The desert sand had become mud so quickly he slipped as he left his tent. In the middle of the small fire that the Roman patrol had set up earlier in the day, flames soared high into the night sky despite the heavy downpour. In the center of the blaze stood a strange man. The man looked up, tears streaking down his face, his mouth open in a silent shriek though the flames did not appear to be burning him. The most disturbing part of it all, however, was a horrible mark on the man’s forehead that emanated an intense aura of fear and dread. The mark looked like three serpents, each devouring the other, wriggling lifelike in a circle but never completing their task. The man in the flames opened his black-filled eyes and pointed at him, mouthing something he could not hear.

Gasping for breath, Andrew sat up straight and knocked his head hard against that of his twin sister, Rose. She had been shaking him gently to wake him from the nightmare. Gingerly rubbing his head, Andrew looked up at his sister as she sat back and rubbed her own forehead, which had a red mark from their collision. Rose looked like she was about to yell at him but then gasped in shock instead.

What is it? asked Andrew in alarm. He looked around the room for something unusual but found nothing but his typical, boring bedroom.

Andy, it’s your eyes. They were a weird color just a second ago, exclaimed Rose. Her chestnut hair, worn in long spirals, bounced around her round face as she spoke. She reached out and grabbed her twin’s similar narrow chin and pulled him close to her. Her brown eyes stared into his blue eyes for much longer than Andrew felt comfortable with.

Rose, you’re being weird again. Stop letting your imagination control you! Also, why were you in my room again? Andrew put his hand on his sister’s face and gently pushed her away. He swung his legs out of his bed and yawned loudly, trying to ignore the terrifying dream that he’d been having more and more frequently recently.

Sitting down next to her brother, Rose stared at him, obviously still concerned. You were yelling in your sleep again. It sounded really scary. I’d say tell me about it, but I definitely don’t want anything like that in my life. By the way, it’s way past noon, and we have a lot to do today. Go take a shower. You’re all sweaty and gross. We have the quincentennial to go to at Longacre Square, and we need to look decent. I hear there may even be a phoenix lord giving a speech, Rose said, forgetting her worries quickly, as she often did in favor of more exciting things.

Well, I know you’ve been looking forward to it, replied the far less enthusiastic Andrew. He bounced back onto his bed and sprawled out comfortably. I still don’t understand the excitement. I bet it’s just going to be old man Rostam from Rome. All his speeches just drone on and on about the Great War and how the legions could use our help. Blah, blah, blah!

Stop being lazy and get up, Rose demanded. She threw a pillow at the lounging Andrew, which he dodged by rolling out of his bed.

Fine, but I get to choose dinner tonight, Andrew bargained, and Rose agreed with a noncommittal shrug on her way out.

Getting up, Andrew brushed his curls out of his face and stretched his long limbs lazily once more. His light bronze skin glistened from the slight sweat he had worked up from the nightmare. He went into the adjoining bathroom to get ready and looked at his eyes in the mirror. Not seeing anything unusual, he assumed Rose was making things up to get him to move faster. Sighing at her drastic tactics, he got into the shower, now determined to make her late.

An hour later, Andrew walked down the steps of their lavish downtown home. His parents were rarely home due to the location of their job and the twins’ refusal to move from New Rome. Their older brother, Trevor, a high-ranking centurion in the Roman Legion, traveled all over the world and had not been home in nearly two years. The result was that the twins had the red-brick house all to themselves. The house had a long history as a home to many of the most important people in the city, and it was richly decorated to reflect that tradition. The second floor had five rooms with cherry wood floors and two bathrooms. Pictures of their family hung on the white walls in the hall that connected each room. The stairs were polished and beautiful, and the wooden steps did not make a sound as Andrew descended into the main living room. On the wall directly across from the stairs hung a massive screen used for telecalls and television. The twins had spent countless hours binge-watching television shows late into the night.

The living room was furnished with two-hundred-year-old refurbished furniture. The cabinets were made from oak and filled with expensive treasures from governors, mayors, and military leaders dating back to the failed American Revolution in 1776. On the walls hung paintings of members of the Phoenix Council, with the emperor of Rome in the center of the ten phoenix lords, who ruled from their beautiful palace in Rome.

Rose was chatting away with Trevor on a telecall, laughing at some story he was telling her. Trevor had his usual smile spread across his handsome, smooth face. His strong, square jaw and brown eyes matched his father’s Congolese features, whereas his freckled cheeks and narrow nose matched his mother’s French descent. The twins adored Trevor, and he called frequently to check up on them, despite his extremely busy schedule. Both Andrew and Rose felt he was more of a parent than either of their actual parents ever had been.

There you are, lazybones! Are you ready for the quincentennial? asked Trevor, his short hair doing little to stop the beads of sweat from falling down his handsome face. Trevor wore a tank top drenched in sweat from his daily workout. His undershirt clung to his torso, revealing his well-toned muscles and deeply tanned skin. He laughed as he spoke, which was typical during their lighthearted conversations.

Trevor’s happiness to see them always caused Andrew to smile, no matter how hard a day he was having. Despite that, Andrew shrugged his narrow shoulders at the thought of the event, indicating he could take it or leave it. As Andrew joined Rose by the screen, she nudged him in annoyance.

Trevor laughed even more at their typical bickering, glad to see they were doing fine. Before you get home tonight, be sure to get enough food for four. I’m in town, and we have a guest who’ll be very hungry after her speech.

The twin’s faces showed excitement at the prospect of seeing their brother, followed by confusion. A guest? A speech? The twins glanced at each other.

Wait a second. You don’t mean what I think you mean, do you? asked Andrew, quickly putting together the implications.

Tell me we’re not hosting a phoenix lord, Rose yelled, following Andrew’s line of thinking. Rose waved behind her to a large pile of mostly empty takeout containers strewn across the room. Have you actually seen this place? It’s a total wreck!

The members of the Phoenix Council have been all over the world. They’ve existed in times and places of extreme squalor. This phoenix, however, expects a high quality of service and cleanliness. Knowing about squalor firsthand, she’s particular about the quality of life she lives, if it can be helped. Just be happy the one I have is a tame phoenix and not one of those who would gut you at the slightest insult. She’ll only kill you if you really piss her off, Trevor said. He was half-joking, but that didn’t lessen their panic.

Looking around their home, the nineteen-year-old twins suddenly realized exactly how messy they had allowed it to become. Neither had particularly great cooking skills, so they ordered out almost nightly. Being typical lazy teenagers, they never cleaned unless necessary, and even when they did clean, they weren’t great at it. They looked at each other in a panic and started scrambling about, picking up trash.

"Better hurry! She’ll be at the house about three hours after the event tonight and expects Japanese food. And do not try to get by with that New Roman trash you two are so fond of," laughed Trevor. There was a loud knock at the door behind him, and he turned. He nodded in response to muffled words and then sighed softly, rubbing his temples. He whipped back around to the screen and smiled mischievously as he waved for the twins to hurry up and then disconnected.

Rose began looking online for popular Japanese dishes and volunteered to go out to buy the ingredients at a local grocery store that sold the exotic ingredients needed. Andrew quickly began picking up trash, silently mourning all the extra work today was turning out to be. An hour and a half later, the two set out on a bus to go to the event, already exhausted from the day’s cleaning and knowing there would be no rest for them anytime soon.

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Hanging up the receiver, Trevor began his preparations for the evening security detail. His current assignment was escorting the troubled phoenix Yuki Takeda. His primary goal was to ensure her safety and good behavior. His secondary goal was to help her deal with her general unpopularity around the globe and the stress caused to her privately. Trevor’s patience and extremely high ability to deal with situations quicker than they developed had advanced him far into the elite First Legion of Rome, the personal army of the Phoenix Council. His rank of Twelfth Centurion of the First Legion had rarely been reached by someone only twenty-six years old. That rank also placed him as the twelfth-strongest non-phoenix in the Roman Legions, named after the famed armies of ancient Rome.

The centurions served many roles in the legion, from general to elite special forces, secret service directors, and counterintelligence operatives, all with the sole purpose of serving the empire and the will of the Phoenix Council. There are over three hundred legions spread across the Empire, each comprising of one hundred centuries. A Century comprised of no more than two hundred soldiers and was commanded by a single centurion. The First Legion was a special army that reported directly to the entire Phoenix Council and was based out of Rome. Each centurion in the First was beyond elite, with the First through Thirteenth Centuries set aside to be personally assigned to a phoenix lord for his or her own personal use.

Trevor had been handpicked by Emperor Rostam, the Ruby Phoenix and leader of the Phoenix Council. The emperor had held the council and world together in the immediate aftermath of the Great Phoenix War using shrewd diplomacy instead of brute force. He had commanded Trevor to watch over the young Yuki Takeda, who was hated for many reasons, including her Japanese heritage and the actions of Zane in her past life. The open hostility and disrespect at large events had led to Takeda often going into crowds and severely beating protesters, which only deepened people’s mistrust and hatred of her. Trevor had patiently worked with Takeda, building a trusting relationship with her. This relationship had made him invaluable to both Takeda and the council since her outbursts had been nearly nonexistent in public in the last six months, though that calm had yet to extend to her behavior in private.

Turning around in his plush chair, Trevor mentally prepared himself for the long day ahead. He had gotten very little sleep the last few nights because he had been directing a lower centurion—a giant muscle with no brains, as Takeda often described him. Gregor Sala, the Thirty-Ninth Centurion of the First Legion, was an excellent warrior and battlefield strategist but was lacking in the brains department when it came to security and long-term planning. Luckily for Trevor, Gregor could follow orders readily enough, so things had not been a total disaster.

Someone knocked at the door yet again, interrupting his mental preparations. Sighing heavily, Trevor pushed a button under his desk, which opened the door to reveal a serious-looking legionnaire.

Centurion Cromartie, Madam Takeda is kicking the tailor again. She says her taste in traditional kimonos is more than… somewhat lacking, reported the legionnaire. He shifted uncomfortably, waiting for a command as some noodles dangled off his otherwise neatly pressed dress uniform, likely thrown at him by Takeda herself.

I’m on my way, stated Trevor kindly. He imagined this two-thousand-year-old soul throwing a temper tantrum over clothing and sighed. Go clean yourself up, legionnaire. We have to look our best out there today. The world is always watching us, and we must always put on our best face.

Yes, sir, Centurion Cromartie! Thank you, sir, shouted the overzealous man. He saluted stiffly and quickly left the room to get ready for the stage.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Trevor closed the door and quickly rinsed himself off before retrieving his neatly prepared formal wear. He pulled on perfectly pressed black pants with a dark red stripe going up both legs. A black belt with a golden buckle in the shape of an ancient Roman helmet shone beautifully as he put on his tall black boots. He put on his white dress shirt and black tie and then secured his service pistols, checking to make sure his twin knives were in place on his lower back. He threw on his black coat and buttoned it up. He inspected the red and gold patches before securing his white sash and attaching his gold aiguillette. Inspecting himself once more in the mirror, he grabbed his hat and gloves and then left his room. His polished black boots clicked softly in the quiet hall as he approached an open door. He smiled when an angry shriek broke the silence.

"If you do not know the difference between a furisoda and a yukata, you should not be serving as my tailor, damned fool! You’re all incompetent! Where’s Cromartie?" shouted Takeda from beyond the doorway. Her voice was highly stressed and irritated, as was typical for her before these big events.

A young woman stumbled out the door, ducking as a tin full of needles flew over her head and slammed hard into the wall, sending the sharp objects flying, with several needles lodging painfully in the girl’s back. The girl saw Trevor and ran up to him with a wild, terrified look in her eyes. Don’t let her kill me! I did everything I could, but she hates me. I’m not familiar with her country’s customs! cried the tailor, crouching close to Trevor’s feet.

Don’t worry, Trevor said gently. Madam Takeda’s not truly upset at you. Go and take the rest of the day off. I’ll handle things from here, but just between us, she actually likes your work, which is why we brought you in the first place. He lifted the trembling girl up and walked her a few steps away before turning back to face Takeda.

Well, time to earn my paycheck, Trevor said quietly, breathing deeply and straightening his uniform before entering the hectic dressing room.

CHAPTER 2

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THE QUINCENTENNIAL

Takeda had been complaining the entire time about wearing a formal kimono. She was being forced to fulfill a stereotype by the council after a favorable study had shown crowds liked it. Trevor simply nodded and listened as he continued his task of ensuring she would be ready in time for her speech. Once the outer robe was on, Takeda began to brush her straight black hair, which flowed past her shoulders to her middle back. Her hair only hinted at the cares she took to ensure a perfect appearance while in public. Her large, dark eyes were free of marks or makeup, and her natural beauty made all around her wonder if she was a mythical beauty out of the pages of some legend. Her small, slender body was perfectly toned from the hours of arduous training she had put in every day since she was a child. Yuki Takeda worked hard every day, sculpting her body to perfection, a habit most phoenixes had developed over their many lifetimes as an advantageous distraction from the constant nightmares that flowed freely from their past lives.

Takeda’s primary weakness was not her body but her discomfort with people. Trevor understood her misgivings about events such as these, given her complicated history with the general population of the world. Trevor had legionnaires placed aggressively around the square due to her extreme unpopularity, especially among Europeans, Africans, and Asians, many of whom were attending this event because of the popularity of New Rome as a travel destination. Zane, Yuki’s previous incarnation, was commonly blamed for the deaths of millions of innocents during the last war, and this blame was largely well founded, though the context was twisted by a modern view. The Phoenix Council itself had agreed to place blame on Takeda; it was practical that one council member should see all the blame instead of the council in its entirety. The council had assured her that the hate would not last more than one or two lifetimes, which did little to boost Takeda’s confidence when out in crowds. In Japan, she was mocked openly. Often, she was mockingly asked if her emerald eyes were her blessing or the radiation from her past life. Being in a perilous position in a hostile nation restricted what she could do to such insolent people. Once she had revealed herself as a phoenix, her life quickly had gone sour as her family disowned her, leaving her houseless in a society based on powerful clans and house names.

In New Rome, the Emerald Phoenix’s reputation was less damaged since her past life had been spent as a resident of the city, and Zane had mostly kept the war away from the Americas. But threats from hostile factions were always a possibility, especially for her, in these times of growing tensions. Trevor had personally stopped many such threats, including one from a childhood friend Takeda had brought to Rome with her upon first moving to the capital of Roman Empire. Takeda had no idea that her best friend had been sent with a mission to assassinate her. Once Trevor snuffed out the attempt, Takeda killed that friend herself.

Now with everyone else out of the room, Takeda’s green eyes showed a nervousness only Trevor was permitted to see. This glimpse of her humanity always surprised him. Any reminder that a phoenix was human went against everything that had been pounded into his head during his childhood and in the centurion program. Phoenix lords were gods among mere mortals, perfect in every way and acting for the long-term good of humanity in a way short-lived humans could not fully understand: this was the mantra the children of the world were taught at a very early age.

Trevor had ended up gaining Takeda’s favor by taking her verbal lashings for over a year. He allowed her to vent honestly without a single moment where she felt she was being judged or was annoying him. Trevor had always advised her honestly and with proper respect, even when the advice was contrary to her own train of thought. She had since grown to depend on him, which many of his rivals in the First Legion were pleased about, especially those above him, since his accolades had therefore been limited as of late. Babysitting Yuki Takeda was not a great move for his career, not that Trevor particularly cared about such things. Being by her side kept him and his team away from high-profile missions, slowing their opportunities for promotion. Trevor was just happy he had been able to assign his people to a good mission before he left for New Rome; they deserved a chance to advance themselves.

I’d really rather not do this, lamented Takeda for the hundredth time in the last hour.

Trevor, with his kind smile, just nodded in understanding as he tied her robe, completing the outfit. My lady, this is not Marseille or Mecca. The people here will not be heckling you, he reminded her, also for the hundredth time. It’s nearly time. Do you have your speech ready?

You know full well I do! Takeda huffed. She marched past Trevor, roughly knocking into him as she often did when she felt annoyed by his overbearing personality. Ruffling through some papers, she grabbed a wrinkled page she had been reading and editing for the last week. The two had worked on the speech until late in the night, going over each detail and ensuring the talking points from Rome were included in the right places.

Very well. President Ethan Foreman is already on stage. I must now excuse myself to see to the security detail. Centurion Sala will ensure your immediate security for the remainder of the event, stated Trevor in a cheery demeanor.

This was the thing Takeda begrudgingly enjoyed the most about Trevor. No matter what she did or said to him, he was always happy to work with her and never took her insults to heart. Takeda nodded apprehensively at his leaving, dismissing Trevor to his other duties as the hulking mass of Gregor entered the room. His face was scrunched up in an eternal frown, and his lower teeth stuck out, reminding Takeda of a boar.

Five minutes, declared Gregor. His deep voice rumbled, resonating through the room and shattering the otherwise pleasant atmosphere of the small dressing room. Beads of sweat rolled down his bald head from the heat outside. Gregor’s formal dress uniform looked like it would burst should he ever flex his rippling muscles. His nose, twice broken, seemed to point in the wrong direction twice. His teeth were pearly white with gaps from missing teeth, a look earned over years spent serving in the legion, allowing for a short whistle on the rare occasions he spoke more than two words.

Takeda squeezed past the giant sweating man and went out into the narrow hall with her long, deep-green kimono flowing behind her. Outside, three other highly trained legionnaires, handpicked by Trevor from Gregor’s Thirty-Ninth Century, stood waiting to escort the anxious phoenix to the stage. Takeda could hear Ethan, the president of the Roman Imperial Congress, droning on about the glory of Rome and his masters on the council.

Ethan Foreman was a total puppet and someone Takeda utterly despised, from his greasy, slicked-back hair to his utter lack of any personal pride. His expensive suit and wide, practiced smile reminded her of Magnus, the Jet Phoenix, who controlled Ethan along with most of the underhanded aspects of the Phoenix Council. Magnus was also one of her personal enemies, and he spent countless hours tormenting her and making her life as miserable as possible.

Takeda shook away her thoughts and walked onto the stage from the dark tunnel. She blinked as the bright sun shone in her face. She looked out over the massive area of Longacre Square in downtown New Rome, thrumming with people. The massive buildings towered into the sky, blocking out most of the sun for the crowd but letting it shine directly onto the stage, creating the illusion of the sun shining only for the beautiful phoenix. The many bright lights from advertisements reminded Takeda of her home in downtown Edo. The smell of the harbor, the sound of the crowd—it was a lot to take in. She looked around at the waving banners passed out by the local government in support of the young phoenix and the hundreds of law enforcement mixed with legionnaires; this showed the care the New Roman mayor had taken to ensure she felt welcome.

Be calm, and get this done quickly so we can leave this dreadful place, advised the voice of Cato, Yuki’s first incarnation. Takeda composed herself immediately, holding her head high with supreme dignity and ignoring the onlookers as she took the advice to heart.

The crowd, upon seeing Takeda, burst into cheers, and she put on her best look of superiority. Walking up to the podium, she glanced at Cal. She almost allowed her disgust to shine through her carefully constructed facade. He had his greasy hair combed back, allowing streaks of gray to show in his otherwise dark brown hair. His self-important smile irked her almost beyond reason, and the mental image of her blade sliding into his stomach pleased her very much, which helped her genuinely smile for the crowd. His dull blue eyes showed a deference to her that she always found annoying. His light-brown suit was perfectly pressed and matched with a mustard-colored tie. Ethan Foreman was a perfect puppet created by the Phoenix Council to rule the plebeians across the world, an orphan brainwashed from a very young age to represent the people of the empire. She really hated him because he reminded her of the women of her country, bowing and licking the boots of the men who ruled Japanese society with an iron fist, even with an empress on the throne.

Turning from him, Takeda faced the crowd, which continued to cheer loudly in her honor. She let them roar on for a few minutes longer before raising her hand to silence them. A million people went from cheering to silent in an instant. The silence was startling but expected, and she smiled at how well-trained this crowd was. She found herself looking forward to this charade’s end and the promise of a delicious home-cooked meal with her only loyal servant. She was looking forward to relaxing with no looming speeches for months.

Thank you, President Foreman, and thank you, New Romans! When we first landed here, Manhattan was nothing more than a cluster of trees between the Atlantic and a large beautiful river. Today New Rome is the shining beacon of prosperity and hope of the entire Western Hemisphere…

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Getting off the bus, which had been delayed by massive traffic and crowds, the twins waded into the swarming mass of people. The crowd was giving off a deafening roar; it seemed like the entire city was cheering in unison. They pushed through the throng of onlookers for a better view of their soon-to-be dinner guest. Andrew caught a glimpse of Takeda on a massive screen that was showing the event to those in the back of the crowd. Struck by her beauty, Andrew stopped for a moment. Rose felt him stop and moaned in annoyance as she pulled him along.

They quickly got to the area reserved for the families of high-ranking government officials, where they received glares from their neighbors for being late. It was a tall platform made