The sky ignited.

  Three Phoenixes wheeled above the dunes, their wings vast sheets of fire. Heat blasted down with every beat, turning the sand into molten glass. Mothers screamed, dragging children into tunnels. Hunters clutched their steel, but even Barek’s scarred hands trembled.

  Then one Phoenix folded its wings and fell like a star.

  It struck the square in an explosion of fire. Villagers were thrown to the ground as sand fused into black glass. From the inferno stepped a man clad in crimson and black armor etched with ember-lines, each plate glowing faintly as if alive. His skin was sun-bronzed, his hair black as obsidian, his eyes burning with inner flame.

  Ardel.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but Nyra surged past Adonis, cloak tearing from her shoulders, fire sparking at her fingertips.

  “I’m not coming back with you, Ardel.”

  The Phoenix warrior froze. His ember-bright eyes widened as if struck. “Nyra…” His voice cracked like iron splitting.

  Murmurs rippled through the villagers. They knew her now—not a stranger, not a refugee. A runaway daughter.

  Ardel’s face hardened. His gaze shifted to Adonis. “And who are you to stand at her side?”

  Adonis smirked faintly, golden flecks burning in his eyes. “She’s mine.”

  The words rang too casually, too arrogantly, and yet they shook the square like a verdict.

  Nyra flushed red, fire and embarrassment clashing in her eyes. “Adonis—!”

  Ardel’s face darkened, fury trembling in his voice. “Yours? As though you were wed?”

  Before another word could be spoken, the ground blazed. A Phoenix Crystal fell from Ardel’s hand, slamming into the sand.

  Fire erupted.

  The square was consumed in crimson light, wings of flame spreading wide, vast as the horizon. The villagers screamed and bowed to the ground as a figure towered above them, her very presence bending the air.

  The Phoenix Monarch.

  Her hair streamed fire, her eyes molten suns. Her voice wasn’t sound—it was heat, pressure, a weight that bent the spine of every mortal present. Hunters dropped their weapons. Even Nyra crumpled, her fire guttering.

  “Does this boy truly claim you, my daughter?”

  Nyra stammered, voice breaking. “I—he—I don’t—” She couldn’t even form the words.

  The Monarch’s gaze shifted to Adonis. Her fire pressed against him, heavy as the desert sky. To the villagers, it was crushing. To him, it was challenge.

  Adonis’s smirk sharpened. He let the golden flecks in his eyes blaze brighter, psionic energy rippling faintly in the sand at his feet. The grains stirred, lifting, circling him like tiny stars.

  He did not bow.

  “You mistake me for a boy,” he said, voice calm but cutting through her heat. “I am older than your entire line. Your ancestors’ ancestors would have called me grandfather.”

  The Monarch’s eyes narrowed. For the first time in centuries, someone had stood upright beneath her flame. The faintest flicker of curiosity burned beneath her fury.

  Ardel stepped forward, enraged. “Mock her again and I’ll—”

  The Monarch raised her hand, silencing him. Her gaze never left Adonis.

  “Then prove you are what you claim. In two years’ time, summon the Black Cobra Basilisk. Command it as your own. Only then will your words hold weight. Fail, and my daughter returns to us, and your village burns to ash.”

  The flames collapsed, leaving only the glowing crystal in the sand. The heat lingered like a brand, the villagers still cowering, their faith trembling.

  Adonis looked down at the crystal, then up at the sky where the Phoenixes circled. His smirk did not fade.

  “Two years, then.”

  ***

  The flames faded, leaving only the Phoenix Crystal burning in the sand. But the fear lingered.

  The villagers shrank back, whispering in terror.

  “He’s doomed us…”

  “The Monarch herself…”

  “We’ll all burn…”

  Mothers clutched children, hunters looked to the sky with hollow eyes. Even the elders bowed their heads in despair.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Adonis stood in the middle of the square, calm amidst the storm of fear. His golden-flecked eyes swept the crowd. He saw it clearly — the fracture, the doubt. If he let it fester, the village would crumble long before any Phoenix returned.

  He drew a breath. Sand swirled at his feet, rising in a spiral around him.

  “Look at me.” His voice cracked like thunder across the square. Heads lifted, eyes wide, locked on him. “You tremble because a Monarch spoke. You fear because she named an impossible trial.”

  The sand rose higher, forming wings of dust at his back. His feet lifted from the ground as he rose into the air, hovering above them, the dunes obeying his will.

  “But I…” His smirk spread, golden light burning in his eyes, “I am not a boy. I am not prey. And I am not afraid.”

  Behind him, the sand coalesced into a massive figure — a golem larger than any he had made before, towering over the huts, its fists like boulders, its form carved from hardened dune. It stood in silence, looming behind him like a titan.

  “This,” Adonis said, his voice echoing across the square, “is my power after mere months in this desert. Two years from now, this village will not be forgotten ruins. It will be the center of the desert. My fortress. My kingdom.”

  The hunters gasped. Some villagers dropped to their knees, awe flickering where fear had been.

  Ardel snarled from where he stood, fire curling along his armor. “Empty boasts.”

  Adonis’s gaze slid to him, sharp as a blade. “Empty? Then test them.”

  He descended slowly, landing before the Phoenix warrior. Sand swirled tighter around him, psionic energy humming in the air like a storm waiting to break.

  “You are a Fourth Circle Mage, almost Fifth,” Adonis said, his tone calm, almost amused. “Strong, yes. But if the village needs proof—” he raised his hand, the golem’s massive fist mirroring the gesture, “—then strike me. And I will strike back.”

  The square froze. Even the air seemed to hold its breath.

  The elders looked stricken. Nyra’s eyes widened in horror. The hunters gripped their new steel as if to anchor themselves.

  Adonis stood unflinching, the golem looming behind him, his golden eyes locked on Ardel.

  This was no longer about the Phoenix Monarch’s trial. This was about faith. And he knew it.

  ***

  “Adonis!” Nyra’s voice cut through the square, laced with fire and fear. She shoved past the hunters, eyes fixed on him. “You don’t understand. A Fourth Circle Mage isn’t just stronger — it’s the difference between a torch and the sun. Between a desert wolf and a storm.”

  Her voice trembled, the truth burning in her tone. “And when he reaches Fifth… it’s not even strength anymore. It’s dominion.”

  Adonis tilted his head, the faintest smirk curving his lips. “Then it’s a good thing storms don’t scare me.”

  Ardel’s gauntlet creaked as he clenched his fist. “Very well. To spare you, I won’t use flame. Only strength.”

  The villagers gasped. To them, that was mercy. To Adonis, it was arrogance.

  Ardel stepped forward, each stride cracking the glassy sand beneath his boots. “Even without fire, my body is more than enough to break you.”

  Adonis’s eyes burned golden. Sand coiled around his arms and legs, psionic energy hardening his muscles, reinforcing tendons and bone. But beneath the glow, there was more — the raw, ancient strength of the Sphinx. The strength of stone and desert made flesh.

  “Try me.”

  ***

  The clash was thunder.

  Ardel’s fist slammed forward, fast enough to crack air. Adonis caught it with a wall of compressed sand, the barrier shattering as his own fist drove forward.

  The impact sent a shockwave through the square. Villagers were thrown back, huts shuddered, dust rained down in choking clouds.

  Adonis slid back three steps, feet digging trenches in the sand. His arms ached, blood dripped from his lip — but he was still standing. Still grinning.

  The impact still rang in the villagers’ ears. The square was cracked, huts leaning, sand scorched black where the shockwave had struck.

  Adonis stood in the center, blood streaking from his lip, his arms trembling from the force. But he was standing. Still grinning.

  Any ordinary man would have been paste, scattered to the dunes.

  Ardel lowered his fist slowly, his eyes narrowing as he studied the boy before him. His armor still glowed faintly, but for the first time his confidence wavered.

  “You’re not human,” he said at last. His gaze sharpened, searching deeper. Then his brow furrowed. “And yet… there’s no magic in you at all.”

  The crowd stirred uneasily. Even the elders leaned forward.

  Ardel’s voice dropped, heavy with suspicion. “What are you?”

  Adonis spat blood into the sand, then lifted his chin. His golden eyes blazed, the sand around his feet swirling faintly in response.

  “Boy,” he said, his voice low but carrying to every corner of the square, “if I told you, you wouldn’t even begin to believe me.”

  Silence followed. The villagers held their breath.

  For a long moment, Ardel stared at him — fire flickering in his ember-bright eyes, uncertainty clashing with pride. Then he turned away, Jumped into the sky and transformed back into his true firey from as a Phoenix.

  The challenge was over. One strike had proven enough.

  Adonis exhaled, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off dust, not battle. His smirk never faded.

  ***

  The glow of Nyra’s fire had barely faded when soft footsteps echoed in the tunnel.

  Selene and Kalen appeared in the archway, their white locs catching the dim torchlight. Kalen’s expression was tight, unreadable; Selene’s gaze lingered on Adonis’s bruised jaw, concern flickering in her silver-grey eyes.

  “You shouldn’t be walking after that,” Selene said quietly.

  Adonis smirked, pushing himself upright despite the ache in his bones. “If I stayed down after one punch, I wouldn’t be here at all.”

  Kalen crossed his arms, jaw tight. “That wasn’t just a punch. You stood against a Phoenix warrior — even holding back, he should have shattered you.”

  Adonis tilted his head, golden flecks burning faintly in his eyes. “And yet, I’m still here.” His tone sharpened. “But don’t mistake survival for victory. What happened today made one thing very clear: we are not strong enough.”

  The twins exchanged a glance.

  Selene’s voice was soft. “Then what do we do?”

  Adonis stepped forward, his shadow stretching against the tunnel wall. “You get stronger. Both of you. A lot stronger. Psionics, frost, void — whatever it takes. And not just you.” His gaze swept them both, steady and unflinching. “The whole village. Because next time, it won’t be a single Phoenix demanding tribute. It will be armies.”

  Kalen’s scowl deepened, but there was no fire behind it — only grim acknowledgment. Selene nodded once, quiet but firm.

  Adonis let the silence hang before speaking again. “We need two things. Metal. And men.”

  Kalen frowned. “Men?”

  “Refugees. Outcasts. Anyone willing to fight. A hundred people is a camp, not a fortress. If we want to survive, we need numbers.”

  “And metal?” Selene asked.

  Adonis smirked faintly. “I’ve already started forging steel. Spears, blades, armor. But without ore, we’ll run dry in weeks.”

  He turned, the golden flecks in his eyes flashing. “There’s a village not far from here. If we want to rise, that’s where we start.”