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Ignis
to come to this spot each morning, right along these streets. I’d pass
the clock tower and wait for the Phoenix to appear at dawn, singing
a song so enchanting. It was here I learnt all about him; a symbol of
renewal and resurrection. With the gift of immortality, a Phoenix
would end its own life, blazing himself in his embers. Its only
weakness, a weapon of iron make. For a moment, the world was a
blur of dull colours, I had lost myself in nostalgia. Then, everything
came into focus.
I wish it hadn’t, for I found myself once more in emotional
agony. Shackles were bound around his flanks and throat, chaining
him to the hands of the Urchin children. The iron bonds raked
against him, emitting the smell of burning flesh as the sound of
pained howling filled my head. I threw myself into his wings, and
he flinched as the Urchin children secured the shackles. His chest
rose up to brush mine, before sinking down following the deflation
of his lungs. His breaths were shuddered, catching in his throat as
they breezed in and out of his body. His ribs stood out, curving
down from his chest, unyielding even as his feathers stretched over
them curved around them with his every intake of breath. I splayed
my hand resting a finger on his forehead, skating up and down the
sleek hardness of his bones. He rested his beautiful head against my
heart, and a thick, pearly tear fell desolate from his eye. “Bring me
the iron stake!” A deep ache settled into my chest, tugging at my
heartstrings as I plucked a single feather from his chest. My body
rested against his one last time. Soft, certain and comforting.
The earth blurred below me as I felt a surge of adrenaline. His
cries muffled in the distance getting further and further with each
ragged breath and stride I took. I stopped to watch from afar, and
with a sing clap of his wings, he turned to ash. Immolation. His ash
ignited in a magnificent golden fire, which became violently
agitated spreading amongst the town. From the pyre, sprang a new
phoenix. Which after embalming its father’s ashes, flew towards
the sun. I looked at my hand; the skin darkening and clasped the
feather. A hush fell upon the clearing, dimming the traditions
overflowing beyond the city. A single beat thrummed off into the
unwavering, resolute silence. Placing the feather against my heart,
it reminded me of hope. He showed me beyond the present defeat,
beyond the moment of being cast down, and beyond the negativity
of this city.
‘
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