Phoenix Of The North [Diana/Dungeon Beast Plot]

It was strange how the years passed by so quickly and yet his body remained so weak. Not quite suited for the flesh in which he was born into yet further than ever from what he used to be. Each life, the truth of his nature was diminished. Until he was nothing but a lost name and embers.

He holds out his hand, catching the icy fractals that floated through the air. Yet something peculiar makes its way into his palm. It fills him with a sense of warmth. Like what one feels when they walk the road home after a long, arduous journey.

The rukh transforms into a light, glowing string, resting in his hand. His eyes scan the path forward, following a short distance. Something within him commanded him to follow. From the color of it, he knew it not to mean much malintent.

It would lead him to a cavern. One that was oddly warm for what it should have been. But he could not complain. The cold was his bane.

He finds a man there, standing before a monument. His appearance was strange, foreign to this land. Rameses stares at him intently as he speaks. He spoke of difference— fate. While he was not familiar with the man named Jiryu nor the power he spoke of, the phoenix was not threatened by his presence.

“Rameses,” he replies with a nod. “You may. My attention is yours.” At the very least, he was intrigued. The statue held no significance to him as it were now.

Jiryu continues into his speech. His history lesson seemed redundant, a waste of time. To come all this way to hear of a simple, tacky statue was irritating. That was until the mention of phoenix ashes did his attention truly stick.

“And what does this have to do with me?” His tone snappier than before, a scowl apparent on his once regal features. For reasons beknownst to him, that revelation struck a chord. That was irritating in itself.

Each word that came from his mouth was a knife, twisting deeper and deeper into his core. He stands taller, air filling his lungs. Embers fly from his grit teeth as he exhales. “You take me for a fool if you expect me to listen to such insults,” he spits. The tips of his hair begin to flare in crimson flame.

“How dare you compare me to mere beasts? Or assume I pretend to be anything like you mortals? You know not of what I am.” What he had been— a phoenix of the highest caliber— a god among mortals. His fingers tighten around his spear. Once used as a walking stick to arrive now considered drawing the blood of the fool who stood before him.

But deep down— he knew. He was painfully aware of his current state. That was what angered him the most.

He casts down his gaze toward the Magi. His eyes glowering with more fire than even he knew capable. However, there was a calmness in his voice, lessening his demeanor. “Even if what you say is true, why should I trust you?”

The embers forming on the tips of his hair furl up the shafts into flaming ribbons. Despite the advice from the Magi, his scowl only seems to intensify. If he knew more about this vile man, it was more possible he would’ve already ended up skewered on his spear. It was difficult to like him and even harder to lend the trust he asked for.

Even the blood boiling in his ears made it hard not to drown out his words. Though, ever curious was a small part of himself. The scholar in him wanted to know more. He speaks of Magi— another called the Contractor. A foolish name yet for such a mortal to come to him, they must be formidable to some degree.

He closes his eyes and with a deep breath, his scowl recedes. It was too early in the day for bloodshed or quarreling. As insulted as he may be, there would truth to his words. The worst is that he would have come here for nothing.

“I will not be your champion,” he begins, “But I will allow you to free me, as you say.” The phoenix knew better than to serve someone else. Even Asisiak did not hold his true loyalty. That had been reserved for himself ever since his beloved had died. “Before I touch this statue of yours, I require proof as to prove who you state you are.”