The Phoenix soul: A legend Arises

Chapter 10: "Alleyway Ambush"

Thrain's eyes fluttered closed, his mind slipping into the realm of dreams. In his subconscious, he stood on the familiar rocky outcropping, face to face with the majestic Phoenix. The bird's fiery plumage shimmered in the ethereal light.

"Thrain, your power simmers beneath the surface," the Phoenix spoke, its voice echoing through his mind. "Unlock it, and you shall wield the flames that will decide the fate of your people."

Thrain's dream self listened intently, his mind racing with the weight of the Phoenix's words.

Suddenly, lucidity washed over him. He realized he was dreaming, yet the scene remained vivid.

"How can I grow stronger?" Thrain asked himself, his thoughts manifesting as words.

His dream self stood up, and another version of himself emerged, watching with piercing golden eyes.

The landscape shifted, like a canvas painted with chaotic brushstrokes. Thrain saw himself at the helm of a raging battle, his body ablaze with fierce flames. The Valtorian Army, their insignia emblazoned on dark armor, trembled before him.

As he watched, memories resurfaced. This was the moment he first tapped into his powers, the moment he awakened.

"That was the day..." Thrain's thoughts trailed off, memories aligning with the dream. "The day I unleashed my flames, the day I discovered my true potential, and the day Ser Ryker died."

The Valtorian Army's screams echoed through his mind as his flames consumed them. His golden eyes blazed with an inner fire, his heart fueled by an unyielding determination.

The dream began to fade, but the image of his empowered self lingered, seared into Thrain's mind.

******

Thrain's eyes snapped open, his peaceful slumber shattered by an unsettling presence. His gaze fell upon Meryl, her piercing stare meeting his. His instinctive dislike for her flared, fueled by the lingering emotions from his dream.

Without hesitation, Thrain unleashed a burst of flames, his anger and annoyance boiling over. Meryl dodged the inferno with graceful ease, her movements fluid.

"Charmin," she said, her voice laced with a mix of amusement and reprimand. "Is this how you repay someone who's been watching over you while you slept?"

Meryl's gaze drifted to her dress, the hem slightly singed by Thrain's flames. Her expression turned wry.

Thrain's scowl deepened, his golden eyes burning with hostility. "What were you doing here?" he growled, his voice low and menacing.

Meryl's smile faltered, her eyes flashing with a hint of irritation. "I was ensuring your safety, though it seems you're more hazardous to those around you."

The air was tense with unspoken animosity, the silence hanging like a challenge.

"Why have you taken it upon yourself to watch over me? There are countless attendants at my disposal, yet you're the one standing here."

Meryl's expression shifted, a subtle blend of amusement and irritation dancing across her features. Her voice took on a languid, honeyed tone.

"Oh, spare me the indignation, Thrain. You know exactly why I'm here. And as for the other attendants..." She waved her hand dismissively. "They're dull, predictable. I, on the other hand, offer... versatility."

A hint of vulnerability flickered in her eyes, but she swiftly veiled it with a mask of nonchalance. "Besides, someone has to keep you from self-destructing. Might as well be me."

Thrain rose to his feet, his movements fluid and deliberate. His gaze locked onto Meryl's, a cold intensity burning within.

"I don't require your supervision," he stated, his voice low and even. "Your presence serves no purpose here. Whatever motives brought you to my side, I suggest you abandon them."

He took a step back, his eyes narrowing. "You've aligned yourself with my brother now. I won't provoke unnecessary tension. Keep your distance, Meryl. I wouldn't want our complicated past to degenerate into open hostility."

With that, Thrain turned and walked away, leaving Meryl standing alone, her expression unreadable.

******

In the grand throne room, Instructor Gunther stood before King Arin, his words tumbling forth with urgency. "I assure you, Your Majesty, I witnessed it with my own eyes: blue flames enveloped Thrain, and it seemed to... heal him."

King Arin's expression darkened, his voice thundering through the chamber. "Silence! The Blue Flame of Revival has been nothing but a myth for over a century. I share your astonishment, Gunther, but refrain from spreading such fanciful tales. We cannot afford reckless speculation."

The king's gaze bore into Gunther, his tone dripping with warning. "Your enthusiasm is commendable, but discretion is paramount. We must not fuel rumors or false hopes. The kingdom's stability relies on prudent counsel, not whimsical fancies."

Gunther's words died on his lips, his face pale in the face of the king's rebuke.

—--

King Arin's voice remained flat, devoid of emotion. "Gunther, since Thrain emerged victorious against a formidable foe, it is only fitting that he receives a customary reward."

He paused, his expression unchanging.

"Prepare the Three Bijins – Akane, Hikari, and Emiri – for Thrain's household. It is the traditional gift bestowed upon princes who demonstrate exceptional prowess in battle."

His tone lacked warmth, his words mechanical.

"See to it that the arrangements are made. It is merely a matter of protocol."

Instructor Gunther bowed, sensing the underlying tension beneath the king's impassive facade. "Yes, Your Majesty."

******

Thrain navigated the winding paths, exiting. The tranquil atmosphere began to fade as he walked through the gates, where monks clad in crimson robes with hints of fiery orange moved with quiet purpose.

Some tended to the injured, while others cultivated herbs in neatly arranged gardens. The air was thick with the scent of medicinal plants and the soft murmur of prayers.

As he stepped out into the open, a figure approached him from the side. Lynx, a skilled warrior from the training grounds, greeted Thrain with an unexpected air of cordiality.

"Thrain," Lynx said, his deep voice measured and respectful. "Congratulations on your victory. I heard it was impressive."

Thrain's instincts remained on high alert, accustomed to Lynx's usual animosity. But to his surprise, Lynx's demeanor seemed genuine, devoid of malice.

Lynx fell into step beside Thrain, his movements fluid despite the visible bruises and bandages covering his own injuries.

—--

Thrain shook his head as they walked together, leaving the healing compound behind. "Ryan really went all out on you, didn't he?"

Lynx chuckled, his voice laced with a hint of amusement beside Thrain as they strolled along the quiet, cobblestone street. "Ryan wasn't holding back, but I'd say I got off easy. Could've been worse."

He glanced down at his bandaged arm, a wry smile twisting his lips. "I underestimated him. Won't make that mistake again."

Their footsteps echoed through the stillness, the tension between them surprisingly relaxed.

"I'm not convinced you underestimated him, Lynx," Thrain said, eyeing the bandages. "It didn't look that way. Unless..." He paused, a hint of curiosity in his tone. "You weren't holding back, were you? That would be a surprise."

"I did hold back a bit," Lynx admitted, his expression thoughtful. "I didn't unleash Pyrope Mode. Ryan didn't use his full strength either, but still..."

[A/N: Pyrope Mode - an ability that allows users to tap into their inner fury, amplifying their physical and magical prowess through intense anger. However, this state can be volatile and difficult to control.]

Thrain raised an eyebrow, skeptical. Lynx's defeat was proof enough that he hadn't held back enough. But he let it slide.

"I must ask, though, Prince Thrain," Lynx said, changing the subject, "why don't you have any guards accompanying you? You're royalty, after all."

Thrain's gaze narrowed slightly, his voice laced with a hint of wariness. "You know my story, I'm sure. You can guess the reason from that."

Lynx's eyes flickered with understanding, but he pressed no further.

As they continued walking, curious glances followed them. The tension was palpable, with whispers and murmurs rising from the crowd.

Eventually, Lynx stopped at a crossroads, nodding toward a narrower street. "I'm heading back home, Prince Thrain. This isn't the safest part of town."

Thrain's gaze swept the area, taking in the rundown buildings and shady characters lurking in the shadows. His expression turned concerned.

"Be careful, Lynx."

Lynx smiled wryly. "Always am, you should be the careful one."

With a brief nod, they parted ways. Thrain watched Lynx disappear into the crowded streets before continuing on his own path.

******

As Thrain walked back, a group of thugs suddenly pushed him into a deserted alleyway. The mocking tone of their leader made Thrain's eyes narrow.

"Your Majesty, how quaint," the thug sneered. "Out here with no guards, no protection. I know why - no one likes you. Not even your own family."

The leader spat on the ground. "Your real dad, Ryker the Ruthless, is rotting in his grave, isn't he? That cowardly warmonger's legacy is all you have left."

Thrain's gaze locked onto the thug, his jaw clenched. Ryker's training flashed back - years of rigorous hand-to-hand combat, strategic thinking, and self-defense. Back then, Thrain didn't have his powers, but Ryker had prepared him to rely on his wits and physical strength.

Now, with his fire ability at his disposal, Thrain had an added edge.

"We heard about your Awakening," the thug continued, his voice dripping with malice. "But I don't believe it. You think a fancy power makes you special? We'll see about that."

Thrain's expression remained calm, but his eyes burned with fierce determination. Ryker's training had been invaluable, and now, with his powers, he was unstoppable.

"You shouldn't have done that," Thrain said, his voice low and even.

The thugs snickered, unaware of the danger lurking beneath Thrain's composed exterior.

Thrain's eyes flickered with a hint of flame, his fire ability stirring within.