Ashes and soot covered the clearing by the old farmhouse, which was burnt black to the frame. The scent of smoke was still thick in the air from the fire, but the poisonous gas had long since left the area. A young boy sat by the frame of the house, covered from head to toe in ash and, despite the thick humid air, he shivered. He couldn’t remember much about what had happened. In fact, he could hardly remember anything at all. Just one thing.
I should be dead.
He wasn’t sure why he thought that. Why he knew that. Whatever had happened here, he should be dead. This little farmhouse nestled against a barren forest, the Demonic Woodlot, was achingly familiar. His dark eyes locked on the blackened frame and a sudden longing hit his chest. This was his home.
An image appeared in his mind of a tall white farmhouse. There was something grand about it, how it stood proudly against the dark, leafless forest. Even the sun seemed to peek out of the ever dark sky and grace the home with an adoring light.
Fury ignited inside the raven-haired boy and he clenched his hands into fists. Someone had taken his home from him, burned it down to a crisp. He would find that person and he would kill them. They would pay for what they had done.
Yes, they will pay dearly for what they have done.
The boy froze. Someone had spoken.
“W-who’s there?” He asked his voice barely over a whisper.
The voice laughed, a haunting sound echoing inside his head. Still a coward, boy? Have I taught you nothing?
The voice’s words burned through him as he recoiled in fear, trying to scramble to his feet, scattering ashes across the ground like a pile of leaves. He knew this voice, it was so familiar. So terrifying. “W-what do you w-want?”
You’re such a shame Hector. Get up and stand your ground, boy!
Hector. That was his name. Straightening up to his full height, a mere five foot six, Hector did as the voice asked. He forced himself to appear threatening, to listen for any sounds around him. He had been trained to fight, trained to hear the nearly soundless footsteps of an enemy. But he heard nothing except the eerie silence of his abandoned home. There wasn’t even the slightest breeze. A small frown creased his young face.
This wasn’t right.
Nothing is right in this world, boy. Look at you, the phoenix prince living in a farmhouse! Preposterous!
A prince? He wondered confused. A phoenix person, yes that was true he knew that. If he willed it, he could have fire appear out of thin air. It would obey his orders. Yes, he was definitely a phoenix, but a prince? He looked down at his hands. Callused and rough. The hands of a labourer, not a prince’s!
“Hector?” He spun around quickly, so quick he stumbled.  Without steadying himself, he glanced at the being. It was a girl with long raven black hair like his. He felt something in his heart lurch toward her, but he ignored the feeling. She could very well be a threat to him, and it didn’t help that she hid herself under a cloak from her shoulders down to her feet. She could be hiding a weapon under there, ready to attack him at any moment. “Is that really you?” Disbelief clouded her face, and her large brown eyes began to water.
Slowly Hector straightened up, his eyes still trained on her. He knew this girl, knew almost everything about her. She was very bossy and demanding and if you dared to touch her hair, she would murder you on the spot. She loved being the oldest and having authority over him but she also cared for him like his mother did.
Without thinking, he ran to her, tears welling in his eyes. His arms wrapped around her and he buried his face in her cloak. “Cara,” he whispered, shutting his eyes tight and holding her closer. Memories washed over him, filling in the holes of his life. He remembered his sister, her laugh, her bossy attitude. He remembered chasing her when they were younger and his mother scooping him and scolding him about it. “Leave your sister alone, Hector,” she would say, and he would listen. He remembered how she had found him abandoned in the Demonic Woodlot and how she held him close and whispered in his ear “You don’t have to listen to him, you know.”
Cara suddenly collapsed to her knees, taking him down with her. “You’re alive,” she whispered her eyes still wide with shock. “Oh no. Oh no.”
“What?” He moved away from her, looking up at her with confused eyes. He wasn’t exactly sure what had happened still, or how the fire started. But it definitely had Cara shaken up. He never liked it when she was upset because he never knew what to do when she was.
Grow up, Hector. Your sister wants nothing more than to get rid of you.
Hector stiffened at his words. SHUT UP! You don’t know anything about my sister.
The voice crackled, sending claws of fear down Hector’s spine. Please, little Prince. Don’t fool yourself.
Cara’s eyes searched Hector’s feverishly, then she let him go, burying her face in her hands. “Oh no. Oh please no.”
Frowning, he reached out and touched her hand. “Cara? What’s going on? Where’s our home? What happened?”
The girl peeked between her fingers, peering at him curiously. “You don’t remember?”
He shook his head, his eyes never leaving her face. The voice whispered in his head, warning him and threatening him, but he ignored it. He needed to hear what his sister had to say, he wanted to hear her tell him everything. There was no way he would believe the voice. It was wrong. His sister would never hurt him. Never.
She sighed heavily, removing her hands from her face and hiding them within the cloak again. Why does she keep doing that? he wondered. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” she replied smoothly, her eyes refusing to meet his. She was hiding something and it aggravated him. Why? There’s nothing to hide!
What have I told you, Hector?
Shut up, he growled, his hands balling up into fists. Cara’s eyes fell on his hands and then darted back up to his face. “Hector, don’t get so worked up. Calm down, okay?” Her voice was soft and persuasive, but it had no effect on him. Maybe the voice was right. Why else would she want to hide something from him?
“Tell me, Cara. Tell me what happened,” he said, his eyebrows furrowing together. Part of him didn’t want to question her, but another part did. And that other part had a much stronger will than the other.
Her eyes widened ever so slightly, fear tracing across her face. “Alright, but promise me you’ll understand? I did this all for us.”
Hector didn’t as much as blink. He remained rigid, his face cold as stone. “I’m not promising anything.”
Good boy. Maybe you will make me proud.
Cara glared at him, her eyes dark and hateful. “You’re just like Father,” she hissed, standing up abruptly. “If it means so much to you, I did it. I killed our family.”
Instantly Hector rose to his feet, his eyes darkening as well. The wind picked up, sending ashes flying in the air and raining down on them. “Why?” He demanded, and against his will, he sounded more hurt and distraught than furious. His sister had done this. She had ruined everything.
What did I tell you? The voice’s words slithered inside him, weaving into his brain.
Cara turned away from him, facing the frame of the farmhouse. The ashes swirled around them, falling in their hair, then flying out wildly. Silence stretched between them and Hector couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she spoke, her soft voice full of bitterness. “Father was corrupt, Hector. Since the day you could walk, he began your training. He would make you do the craziest things and you would do them because you didn’t know how not to. I remember each day I’d go find you and you would be huddled away somewhere, shaking and frightened. You’d apologize to me.” Her voice broke for a moment, and though she still had her back to him, Hector knew she was fighting away tears. “When you were little, you once told me ‘Stop him. He has bad plans.’”
“So you burned down our home?” Rage coursed through his blood and he balled his hands into fists. At that moment, he could’ve strangled her. Everything was gone. Everything. His life, his home, his mother and all because his sister was mad.
“That’s not why, Hector! Damn it, can’t you see this is already hard enough?” Cara whirled around, her eyes red from anguish. He could see the moisture in her eyes and how she blinked repeatedly to keep the tears away. But he didn’t care. She was a monster. “I had to sacrifice everything to stop him! I had to sacrifice you!”
When he didn’t answer her, she let out a heavy breath and reached out to him, pulling her baby brother into her arms. “I can’t do this. I can’t.” She whispered in his ear, her arms tightening around him. He felt her tears fall on his face, but he remained cold. “I had to let you die in the fire, Hector. He ruined you, turned you into himself.” She sucked in a heavy breath, shaking. “You weren’t supposed to come back. God, if I’d only known you had the gift too....” she broke off unable to continue.
Ah yes. The gift of the phoenix. It’s rare, little Prince. Especially rare. Only descendants of the royal family may harness the grand ability.
What gift? He asked, curious. He knew already that he had the gift of fire. He was a phoenix person of course. But what other hidden talents did he possess?
The gift to resurrect one’s self.
Cara continued slowly, now that she’d regained control over herself. “You can’t die by the touch of fire, you will only come back. Father must’ve known this, he was too careless with his actions otherwise.”
“Cara?” Hector asked softly, bringing her attention down to him. His sister paused in her ramble, but didn’t release her grip on him. “Do you have the gift?”
She shook her head, burying her face into his hair. “No, I don’t. But listen to me, Hector. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you; I will never want to hurt you.” She paused, taking in another deep breath. “But I have to end this.”
Now! The voice yelled and Hector obeyed, like he always did. Flames exploded from his hands leaping onto his sister, eating away at her cloak. He stepped back from her, hearing something clink against the ground behind her screams. He turned his eyes locking on the dagger that she had been holding. He was right. Cara had been hiding something under the cloak.
There. Now isn’t that better, boy? She’s been taken care of, now nothing stands in your way.
“For what?” he asked, bending down to pick up the dagger. He twirled it in his hands thoughtfully, thinking that this was something he’d hold onto for a while.
As the voice filled his mind with different illusions—war, world domination—it began to meld in with his own thoughts. A small, malicious smile formed on his lips as he trudged away from his home and the fire. He knew who the owner of the voice was. Cara had thought it was their father, and for a while he believed it too. But no, the voice belonged to someone much crueler than his father.