The Phoenix Prophecy: Nova

The bus shunts to a stop, jolting me awake. I’m the only one left on board; everyone else disembarked a couple of stops ago. I thank the driver, but he’s already preparing to leave.

As my foot hits the sidewalk, I bury my hands in the pockets of Sarah’s coat and try to get my bearings. We’ve stopped at the side of the road. The slice of sidewalk next to the bus stop is barely a few feet wide. There’s no shelter, no path, just a sign: BUS STOPS HERE.

I look up and down the road. It is pitch dark. Above me, stars blink against a velvet sky.

I’m turning to ask the driver which way I should go when the bus lurches back to life and speeds off into the distance. I watch it go. Silence descends.

Instinctively, I reach for my phone to find a map, but then I remember it’s useless; nothing more than a lump of charcoal in my coat pocket. I close my eyes and strain my ears. A warm breeze licks my skin. I suck my finger and hold it up in front of me to decipher which direction the wind is coming from, a trick my father taught me when we went out hunting. Before he was taken away from me.

East.

I turn my head. I guess I’m going east.

I have no idea how long I walk for. Perhaps twenty minutes, perhaps an hour. Eventually, there are lights in the distance. Buildings wrapped in a soft orange glow which tells me the town of Phoenix Falls has not yet shut down for the night.

I stop next to a sign. White wooden posts with a dark green board hung between them. Welcome to Phoenix Falls. Where Ashes Turn to Light.

My breath catches in my chest. Below the lettering is a symbol. A circle with a cross inside it. I don’t know what it means, but I know what it’s telling me; I am in magick territory.

I shudder even though it’s not cold. My hand goes to my chest. I’m in magick territory and I have an anti-magick crest burned into my skin. My fingers begin to tremble as I button up my shirt. It’s so singed it’s barely holding itself together, so I fasten my coat too and tighten the belt.

I look behind me into the darkness I came from. I could turn back, walk the other way, or wait at the stop for another bus. But even as I think about it, I know I’m not going to; Phoenix Falls is pulling me in.

As I pass the sign, a feeling like electricity slithers through my limbs. Like I’m coming alive for the first time. Like all my senses are kicking into overdrive. I can smell beads of dew on the grass. I can feel warmth bleeding up from below the earth. I can hear the river flowing and the falls pummeling the slick rocks beneath them.

I have never been here in my life. Yet, it feels like I know these sounds. These smells. This air.

Soon, the trees and grass at the sides of the road turn to houses. And before long, the houses turn into the town’s main street. Stores on either side. Cobbled down the middle. One, two, three different magick stores. A cafe called Elements where people are still drinking coffee, despite the fact it will be sunrise soon.

Ahead, a group of girls walks toward me, giggling. One of them stops and waves her hand in the air. A flicker of green sparkling light springs from her fingers and turns into rose petals, falling like an endless stream of confetti in front of her friends’ faces. They stop and take a selfie. Then another.

I’m transfixed, but when they realize I’m staring at them, and narrow their eyes at me, I hurry past.

Further down the street, it becomes quieter. In the distance, I can see a fountain. Tall with intricate carvings around its basin. I’m watching the water turn from blue to red—three teenage boys dipping their fingers in and out—when something changes.

The atmosphere shifts.

The flutter of excitement in my chest turns to something else; a feeling I can’t name but one that crawls through my entire body.

Something is coming.

I don’t know if I’m hearing my own voice or someone else’s. I spin around, but I’m alone.

A noise makes me look up. I’m still walking slowly down the center of the street. There’s a bar a few hundred yards away from the fountain. Its door has the same symbol as the town sign. The name above reads: THE SOLAR CROSS.

I’m looking at the door when it opens and someone steps out. I breathe in. It’s a man. Like a dark-haired Viking, he’s so tall he has to fold himself through the frame. He straightens himself up just enough for me to catch his thick, wiry beard and the tattoo on the side of his face, which spreads down his neck to his shoulders and arms.

He turns his back to the street.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

He’s wearing a black vest, his hair tied loosely at the nape of his neck. He raises a tattooed arm and waves his palm across the top of the door. The bolt clunks into place without him having to touch it. He stops. He’s not moving. The moon peers out from behind a cloud and catches his shoulders. They ripple as he breathes in and out.

Like there’s an invisible rope pulling me to him, I walk forward.

Then, without any warning at all, thunder crackles through the sky and the clouds break open.

Stinging stripes of rain batter the street. Water streams down my face.

When the Viking turns around, he sees me. His eyes lock onto mine. A jolt of heat blooms in my chest. Something flashes in front of my eyes. Fire. Bodies. Skin. Sweat. Hands. Lips.

What the…?

Is someone doing this to me?

I look up and down the street, but we’re alone.

He’s staring at me. His eyes… I can barely breathe. I stop, waver, and then fall to the ground.