When Derathani emerged from the ashes of her seventh life, she knew exactly what she was to do next. She took humanoid form at once, allowing her now-petite feathers to elongate into stubby little arms and legs, and wasted no time in stepping past her family and friends, all so much larger than they’d seemed moments ago. She quickly retrieved the bags that aged, gnarled hands had packed, which soft, tiny hands now clutched and donned. Their weight almost overwhelmed her new, puny frame, but she supposed that, in the most literal way possible, she’d grow used to the weight.
As she made her way out of their nest, she said some curt goodbyes to those few firebirds circling around around her, promising she would come home as soon as she could, and that perhaps she might see them on her travels. She took one last look at the titanic treetops she stood above, feeling the twisted branches on her feet and the cool breeze on her face, and looked to the rising sun on the horizon.
Then, Derathani leapt off, plummeting through the air. Her laughter, one of joy and freedom, cut through the winds that assailed her, as she shifted back into the majestic form of the Phoenix moments before she hit rocky dirt, and soared towards the sky.
She could have chosen any island in the Archipelago to start her adventures, but she’d always had an admiration for the wisdom and multitalented nature of the El’ivie, so she made for the island of El’westi’one — Elvenstone. Flying just above the deep blue sea, the flapping of her wings left a rippling trail behind her, covering her in a veritable bath of ocean spray. Several El’iviea vessels spotted her as she shot past, calling out greetings and hails. She did not respond. Elvenstone was just up ahead.
As she reached the shore, Derathani shifted back to humanoid form, though her excitement overtook her. She knocked herself off balance, falling facefirst into a dune of sand, and could not help but laugh.
Getting to her feet, Derathani saw a trail up ahead, leading off the beaches and into dense, pine woods. She followed that trail, admiring the deep greens that surrounded her, the vibrant plants and flowers that pierced the canopies like stars in the sky, until she saw an El’ivi heading her way.
She was an odd sight, to be sure, appearing like a lost child bogged down by bags that probably weighed as much as she did — but the moment she opened her mouth and asked for directions, the El’ivi heard the regality and age in her voice, and immediately bowed in deference. He issued her a convoluted set of instructions, knowing she would not miss a beat, and she did not.
So, by noon, Derathani came to a small village within a clearing, where sturdy stone houses sat in a circle. She found her way to the Maester of the town, who welcomed her at once, and declared they would hold a banquet in honor of their visitor from the Ascendancy that night. In the meantime, she was welcome to explore the town and see its workings first-hand, so she did.
The first place Derathani went was the El’iviea workshop, for she knew that the El’ivie were master craftsmen, and she had always wanted to see them work their magic first-hand. She entered, saw the tall and regal blacksmith, who invited her in to see the bellows. Derathani approached, hands folded behind her back, and peered into the fire.
Unfortunately, she was so eager to see, and so absent-minded, that she did not see the bars of stock metal that lay before her. And before the blacksmith could cry his warning, she tripped over the metal, fell straight into the fire, and burned alive.
When Derathani emerged from the ashes of her eighth life, now appearing little older, and missing all her things, the very first thing she did was say to the blacksmith, “Not. A. Word.”
* * *
[Editor’s Note: This piece is part of the “Beat Boltsy Flay (And His College Testbook)” contest collection. In response, and in spite, to a section in his creative writing textbook which explicitly discouraged such a piece as ineffective and inadvisable, M&M admin Jenson Doan, whose Discord username is HeroBoltsy, challenged writers to tell short stories under 2000 words in the fantasy, espionage, horror, or romance genres; and, furthermore, to write more such qualified stories as a group than him in the span of four weeks. The current score of the Beat Boltsy Flay challenge stands at M&M 13 – 13 Jenson. There are 0 days, 0 hours, and 0 minutes left on the clock. The final result is a DRAW between M&M and Jenson.]
