Little Phoenix

I reached Aurum, making my way to where Vesper drinks his coffee every day. The Liberum Cafe. I bite my nails as I walk through the streets, my wings dragging against the cement. How am I going to find Vesper? I know what he looks like, but I’m not the kill and go kind of assassin. Royce could’ve lied about the reason he wants him dead and Vesper could be an innocent Veneficis.

Suddenly, I ran into a very soft wall, a weirdly warm wall. I felt a hot liquid splash on my wings and I yelped in pain, jumping nearly five feet in the air. My wings stung with pain from the burning liquid of coffee. I hissed in pain as my feet touched the ground. My wings pulled themselves back, as I looked for the source of the burning coffee.

I heard a voice apologise, “Good gods, I am so sorry.” I looked at the guy in front of me, recognising him to be Vesper Wyndelle from the photos I had been given with his file. A singular thought ran through my mind. The photos I was provided of him did not do him justice.

He was relatively plain looking, but so stunning.

The boy before me had messy chocolate brown hair that was swept above his eyes in a bang. His leathe body was relaxed and a smug smirk pulled at his lightly-coloured lips. He looked to be around as tall as Royce, but he had the same stature as my dad.

Icy blue eyes met cognac ones.

Everything inside me came undone as I stared at him. I had never felt this way. All the lines that held me to my life were sliced apart in swift cuts, like clipping the strings to a bunch of colourful balloons. Everything that made me who I was—which was so much—was strengthened in that singular second. It felt like steel cables were tying me to one thing—one person.

Vesper Wyndelle.

“Hello?” Vesper interrupted my thoughts. My eyes widened at the closeness of the two of us and I immediately took a step back. I apologised, “I’m sorry for runnin’ into you. I should’ve been payin’ attention.” Vesper shook his head, crossing his hands back and forth to make an X, “No, it’s fine. I should’ve been payin’ attention as well.”

Vesper looked at my wings and pointed at them, “Are your wings alright? I noticed that coffee got on them.” I lied, “Oh, they’re fine.” My wings still stung with pain but they didn’t hurt as badly as they did before. Vesper looked at my wings with concern, “Are yeh sure?”

I lied once again, “Aye, I’m sure.” Vesper nodded, “If yeh’re sure.” I nodded once again and Vesper asked, “How can I make this up to yeh?” I shook my head, “Yeh don’t have to make it up to me. It was an accident on both of our parts.” Vesper shook his head, “Yes, I know. But I want to make it up to yeh.”

I looked at Vesper before sighing. I told him, “Treat me to coffee. This Solis-day at Octingenti in the mornin’.” Vesper nodded in agreement, “Alright, that sounds good. Meet me at the Liberum Cafe.” I nodded in agreement and Vesper told me, “Goodbye, I have to get to work.” I replied, “Goodbye,” as Vesper ran off towards his workplace, confused by my feelings.

I can’t wait til this Solis-day, it should definitely be interesting.

The feelin’ that Vesper makes me feel scares me, I thought, laying on my circle bed. I haven’t felt anythin’ like this, not even when I was with Zephyrine. I rolled over onto my stomach, carefully pulling my wings out from under me. I stretched out my wings, before pulling them back in. My wings cover my entire body, allowing me to use them as a blanket.

“Good God”, the song my mom sang to me as a kid, began playing in my head. The song that I would always join in singing with her, the song she would always sing to me when I couldn’t sleep or I was crying.

“Ai will fovem illi insomnia ves haev,

putantes ves are ruennin’ fer illi fontes of insomnia.

Ves revelare illi insomnia ves haev,

sharin’ them per illi vita.

Boneem deus, cara bina.

Little una, illi stellae are on incaendo and illi desiderium praeuro en vester lumen.

Illi desiderium tu cursus through palu of lutum,

illi desiderium tu spira down clivos of soft terra,

and saltari around en illi pourin’ pluvia.

Ves custodia fulmen per lumen ful of amor,

instead of metus.

Boneem deus, cara bina…

illi umbra es tenabrus and illi vita es saevis.

Ai would emori fer ves,

So that novellis risus of vester stays on vester vultis.

Mi cuore pumps cruer through mi venai, like it does vester,

fer mi tu serva ves laetis.

Ai haev nullus other persona.

Boneem deus, cara bina,

vester fortuna es up tu ves.

Haev illi Daiemonium entered vester animanuum?

Haev they vastus vester decaria?

Cara bina, ves were like an agnae en illi arvem…

Boneem deus, auxi mi cara bina,

fer juvenca es modo una of illi legiones

ves sent fer illi Daiemonium.

Boneem deus, cara bina…

Ai doleo.”

I sighed and whispered, “I’m sorry, Mom. I know yeh wouldn’t be proud of the person I’ve become.” I heard my phone ring once, signalling to a text message. I lifted my head and put my left arm under my chin, keeping it up. I outstretched my right hand, grabbing my phone off of my nightstand. I pulled my arm back and saw that my mom had texted me.

“Speakin’ of the devil,” I murmured. I opened my phone and went to my message app. My mom’s contact was at the top and I opened it, revealing the text she had just sent me.

“Hey, kiddo.

I just wanted to remind you that I’m so proud of you, despite you being an assassin.

I love you so much, Ellie.”

A smile spread across my lips at the sight of her text. At least she can use the word assassin, unlike Dad. I typed out a response to my mom’s texts and sent it.

“Hey, Mom.

Thank you. I love you too.”

I closed my phone and set it down on my nightstand. I removed my chin from its resting place on my arm. I turned onto my side, pulling my knees up to my chest. I laid my face on my left arm as I covered my body with my wings instead of blankets. I heard Maewyn let out a quiet ‘scra’ sound as she flew into my bed. Maewyn hid under my wings, snuggling into my side as she used me as a heater.

I shoot up screaming, tears are falling from my eyes like rivers flow into the oceans. My hand flies up to my chest, pressing against my chest where my heart feels like it’s about to beat right out of me. I try to calm down my racing heartbeat as I rock myself back and forth, my knees pressed against my chest with my arms wrapped around my legs. I’m alright.

Tears are falling from my eyes and my fists are clenched, my nails digging into my palm, probably drawing blood. I’m alright. It wasn’t my fault. I whisper, “I got this. Kick arse, beat life, then take a nap,” my voice shaky. I’m alright. I have to push away the memories. Conceal, don’t feel. It’s not my fault.

I repeat multiple times, “I got this. Kick ass, beat life, then take a nap,” like a mantra. I felt Maewyn pressing her face into my still hand, but I didn’t move it. Maewyn’s paws scrambled over my legs and made her way to my stomach. Maewyn pressed her front paws on my stomach and I shakily inhaled. There was nothin’ I could’ve done.

My hand flew to my mouth to cover it as a sob tore through my throat. Dammit, if only I didn’t let Devika stop me. Maybe we both would’ve survived instead of me. I gasp, “Zephyrine died because of me. I could’ve done somethin’.” It’s my fault. I didn’t do my best. If I did my best then Zephyrine would probably still be here.

“Dammit!”

I clench my right fist and slam it into my thigh. I quietly sighed and took a deep breath, “What would I say?” I think to myself for a second before deciding, “May god have mercy on my enemies because I won’t.” I nod to myself before laying back down. I look up at the ceiling with one thought before I close my eyes to go back to sleep.

✥----------------✥

I stood in front of my mirror, hands clutching the counter as I stared at myself—a bit surprised by my appearance. I was a mess. I looked tired, and worn down. My face looked weirdly dull and the bags under my eyes were easy to see. The paleness of my skin has increased—despite the immense amount of time I’ve been spending in the sun lately.

My ash blonde hair meticulously cascaded down my shoulders and back. No blemishes dotted my pale cheeks but freckles did. My freckles were barely visible as they scarcely dotted my cheeks. My eyeliner was barely smudged outwards at the corners of my eyes, and my mascara had tinted the underside of my eyes black.

The bags underneath my eyes were easy to see. With the mix of the black tint from my blood and my mascara, I looked dead. I could easily see the scars that cover my revealed torso. Around my right rib cage, I have a scar from a knife that horizontally curves around my rib cage. My wings stuck up, and I can’t help but be proud of them.

On the right side of my collarbone and my right shoulder, I have small dot scars from Maewyn’s claws digging into my skin. I looked at the tattoos that covered my arms. They were pretty simplistic. There were black veins that looked like lightning that went around my arms like vines, stopping once they reached the top of my shoulders. On my wrist is a tiny heart tattoo with flowers coming out of the veins and arteries.

I felt like I needed to scream, needed to just let out my emotions, but I was unable too. I sighed and I looked up, looking at my eyes. Instead of my fire-like eyes, my eyes looked like a dull orange. They were lifeless, devouring any and all life that tried to enter them.

It was frightening.

The differences between my eyes when I’m full of life and when I’m dull. When I’m happy, my eyes look like honey. When I’m angry, my eyes look like a wildfire. When I’m sad, my eyes look like crunched up leaves. But when I’m dull…when I’m dull, my eyes look dead. My eyes look like broken orange stained glass. They look like broken amber.

I was born with cognac eyes, eyes that act like amber armour. They shield anyone’s views that try to peek through my mask. I have fire in my stomach, lightning in my veins and thunder in my heart. I have a gun for a mouth—always shooting retorts to protect myself. I hold my rage like a sword, willing to hurt anyone who provokes me.

But right now…my eyes aren’t a shield nor are they that wildfire colour. They were just…orange. My eyes were a mirror, mirroring what I felt on the inside through a cognac stained mirror. I let out a quiet sigh, dropping my head and staring at the pristine white sink.

I’m not someone who needs help nor am I someone who asks for help. I’ve been in control of my life since a young age, protectin’ myself and takin’ care of myself. So…why the hell don’t I feel like I’m in control? I know that I’m not okay. I have been traumatised and put through hell. I had to fight like hell and fightin’ like hell has made me who I am. Despite it all, I’ve never felt this out of control.

I barely lift my head and my eyes catch sight of the pair of scissors on my counter before glancing at my butt-length hair. Without a thought, I lifted my right hand off of the counter and grabbed the scissors, picking them up.

Heal in your own way, I think, staring down at the scissors. That’s what Devi would tell me. I set the scissors back down before fixing my hair. I put it in a loose ponytail, my ponytail holder at the base of my neck.

Tears began to fill my eyes at the thought of chopping off the hair I had finally started loving because of Zephyrine and I didn’t even try to hide them. This is the key to healin’. Embracin’ the loss, even if it’s been years since I lost her. A soft sob scratched at my throat as I looked at scissors. I can do this. I have too.

I pulled my ponytail holder down to my mid-back before I grabbed the scissors and slowly lifted them up. It’s just one snip. I gripped my ponytail in my hand, bringing the scissors above my ponytail holder. But why does this hurt so badly? I close the scissors on my hair, a ‘snip’ sound easily heard. There, it’s done.

I set my scissors down on the counter and looked at the floor, seeing my cut hair on the floor—held together by my ponytail holder. I crouched down and picked my hair, holding it in my left hand as I took my ponytail holder off using my right hand. I throw away my cut hair before looking at myself in the mirror.

My freshly-cut laid neatly below my shoulder blades. I took a deep breath before I grabbed my bag of small hair ties, beginning to work on my badass Viking braids. I leaned forward, staring at the mirror with intensity, whispering one last thing before falling into silence as I did my hair.

“Ai am a baed-asin.”