The Mark Of The Phoenix

Chapter 3 The Weight Of The Mark

Memory is a fickle thing, but I remember the rain.

I was only eight years old the night the world ended. I remember the rhythmic drumming of the storm against our roof in our little wood home and the way the door creaked open to reveal my father. He had been gone for four months, serving King Kaulie’s army in the border wars, but for three glorious days, he was just mine again.

He hung his heavy, sodden cloak by the door and unbuckled his Slayer’s sword, the steel singing a weary note as it hit the peg. He kissed my mother, Auna, then swept me up onto his shoulders, laughing as he spun me around. That night was a feast—savory roast and a blueberry pie my mother had baked to celebrate my eighth birthday.

Later, tucked into my wooden bed, my mother sat on the edge of the mattress. She began to hum the first verse of the Phoenix Lullaby, her voice a soft anchor in the dark. I was drifting, my eyes heavy, when the front door didn't just open—it was violently forced inward.

"Hide, Sindel!" my father’s roar shook the floorboards.

My mother shoved me under the bed, her hands trembling. "Don't make a sound," she whispered, her eyes wide with a terror I didn't understand. "Wait for the dawn."

I pressed my cheek to the dusty wood, stifling my breath. I heard the grunt of a struggle, the heavy thud of a body hitting the floor, and my mother’s final, stifled cry. Then, silence.

The boots came into my room next. They were black leather, tattered and slick with fresh blood. I saw a pale, clawed hand reach for my blanket, and I squeezed my eyes shut, a sob dying in my throat. But the monster stopped. He sniffed the air, a low growl vibrating in his chest, and then he was gone—vanishing into the rain just seconds before the sound of heavy, disciplined footsteps filled the house.

"Oh no... Felix," a gruff voice whispered.

I crawled out from the shadows. A man was kneeling by my parents, closing my father's eyes. They lay side by side on the old floor, their skin marble-pale, the jagged bite marks on their necks a scarlet brand of the enemy.

"I'm sorry, girl," the man said, standing up without looking at me. "Your parents are dead. You’re on your own now."

He turned to walk out, leaving me in the wreckage of my life. I collapsed onto the floor, rocking back and forth as the first sob finally broke through. As I moved, the collar of my nightdress slipped, revealing the fire-red birthmark on the curve of my neck.

The man stopped. He turned for one last look, and his entire body went rigid. He didn't see a grieving orphan anymore; he saw a miracle.

"Come with me, girl," he said, his voice hushed with awe. "You are the Prize Slayer. You are the one chosen by the Phoenix to save this kingdom from the bloodsuckers."

He told me the legend then—that a girl marked by the red bird would one day end the war between Clover Valley and Darkness Falls. I grabbed the only two things I had left: my mother’s journal, which held the full Lullaby on its first page, and my father’s silver pocket watch.

The man’s name was Aiden. He took me to King Kaulie, who looked at my mark and commanded Aiden to raise me, to break me, and to mold me into a lethal weapon.

***

Aiden snapped his fingers, pulling me out of my flashback. I was instantly alert, standing in the center of the sparring circle. He snapped at a huge muscle-mountain of a man. "Kael! You’re up now!" He pointed at the circle.

I had the hood of my cloak down; Kael could only see my eyes. He laughed when he saw his opponent was a girl. Kael was new, recently accepted into the Slayer’s army. None outside the Slayers, Aiden, and the King and Queen knew I was a woman—most had never heard of the "Prize" at all. He stared and kept laughing, his tone arrogant. "Well, maybe I'll get to grope a woman while I am in the Slayer army," he said. His face was ugly and broken out, and his chubby belly and two chins jiggled as he let out a pig-like snort.

I just stood in my fighting stance. Aiden snapped his fingers. "Now, start the match!" He looked at Kael. "Boy, you don’t know what you got yourself into. You just pissed off the one and true Prize Slayer."

Kael’s face went from laughing to a dumb frown. "The Prize is a girl?"

It was too late. Aiden didn't even get to answer before I already had Kael down, his arm twisted painfully behind his back. Aiden circled us. "Prize, round one is yours."

He snapped his fingers again. Now it was sword time. We were both handed blunt practice swords. Kael was already sweating and breathing heavy, but again, I had him. I tapped him three times with the wooden tip—once in the gut, once in the arm, and for the third, I performed a flip through the air over the fat mountain’s head. I landed behind him before he could even turn around.

When he finally faced me, he was furious at being outmatched by a girl half his size. He lunged, but I was faster. My sword tip was already touching his throat.

"Prize, no surprise. The match is yours," Aiden announced.

For a second, Kael lost it and tried to tackle me. I moved just in time, and the caveman-looking man ran slam into Aiden. Aiden was a mountain of a man himself, but his was all muscle, and Kael simply bounced off him and hit the floor.

"Good job, Prize," Aiden said. He helped Kael to his feet and told him he needed a lot of exercise, warning him that this was only day one. He pushed Kael back toward the line of new trainees and called up the next pair.

We didn't start out soft. I was taught how to fight at eight years old. Every time I entered a real battleground, I had at least three vampires beheaded, pushed off a cliff—a fall even they don't survive—or simply stabbed. I was a girl, but I was also the youngest Slayer in history.

Aiden came over as I propped my back against the cold stone wall, removing my hood. The next match lasted a good minute; the new guy was actually keeping up with Victor, a senior Slayer.

"Good job, Prize," Aiden whispered, keeping an eye on the match. "Take 'em down. Any of these new recruits who stay out of line or try to touch parts of you that aren't able to fight back... handle it."

"I learned from the best," I said, smiling back.

Aiden had raised me. I had yet to be beaten in a sparring session or a real battle. He never scolded the men for their snickering or their attempts to feel "woman parts"—he knew he didn't have to. He knew I’d have them crying to their mothers in seconds.

I watched as the new recruit tapped the senior Slayer twice, ending the match in a tie. "Aiden?" I asked. He answered with a grunt of approval for the new boy. "May I be excused now? I just want to go to my rose garden."

"The fights are almost over, Sindel. It’s almost time for supper in the food hall," he said in a fatherly tone.

"I’m not really hungry, and this corset is making me light-headed," I whispered.

He sent two more men to the circle, then turned back to me. "I suppose you did well. Just listen for the Third Call bells."

"Thank you, sir," I said formally.

The Third Call bells sounded every night at 10:00 sharp. They were different from the clock bells; they were gongs that sounded three times, three times a day. First to get ready, second to head to roll call, and third to be in line. Anyone caught oversleeping or being late was sentenced to the dungeon. Because we knew the secret of the Prize, we couldn't be released back into regular life—if a vampire captured a Slayer, they could betray secrets under torture.

The rules had changed after my father was slain in our home during his leave. Now, Slayers never go home. We stay within the castle walls to keep the secret safe.

I heard the last huff of the final match and headed for the door. I pulled out a special key—a woman-to-woman gift from the Queen. She had her own garden on her balcony, but she had given me a hidden section on the very tip side of the roof that only I could access.

She had asked my favorite colors and planted blue and purple winding roses, a beautiful water fountain, and a bench. The fountain had a Phoenix and a music note carved into it. It was breathtaking and smelled so sweet. I would skip supper just to come here, pull back my hood, let my hair down, and finally loosen the tight corset I wore for agility, not for vanity.

Here, in the scent of the roses, I could finally breathe.