PHOENIX

𝙿𝙷𝙾𝙴𝙽𝙸𝚇 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝚉𝙴 𝙼𝙸𝙳𝙰𝙸𝚁. He hadn't noticed this initially, but as the electricity surrounding his body whipped off in front of him (much farther than expected), and a glimmer of rain swirled down his balled fist and dripped into the glade, he was certain of it. The whole experience could be likened to a truck blaring through a tunnel only to be stopped by the sticky threads of a web cast by a radioactive spider. In that instance there would perhaps be a bit of wiggle room before the monster came. Here wasn't so kind: Phoenix couldn't move, couldn't talk, and, most importantly, couldn't fight.

  Shit, shit, shit! he thought, internally squirming and pitting with terror. Valerie you needa do something! LIKE RIGHT NOW!

  At an overly dramatic speed (or maybe Phoenix's power had slowed time down from his perspective, who knew?), Chrono raised his head, arm branched off to the side. The purple light twinkling along his iridescent ski goggles reflected Phoenix's face. Shadow's ski goggles were wrapped tightly around Phoenix's afro. His mouth was twitching, his eyes were blinking repeatedly, and his brow was swiping down in a wave.

  Chrono's visage, however, cracked open into a grin; it peered through the hole cut out at the bottom of the mask. What shocked Phoenix more than anything was the perfect set of teeth he possessed; for someone so evil, he sure didn't fit

  (looks can be deceiving my dad used to always say don't judge a book by its cover because if you do you could miss out on a great story I think I understand what he meant by that now)

  the picture.

  Silence. Pure, disgusting silence. Chrono's clock ticked in it.

  "So you are never alone," Chrono said coldly. So coldly in fact that the words sent Phoenix's heart into a state of dread. "My, my, and a . . ." He paused, examining the sparks around the little boy. ". . . a weather-caster, my, MY!" Soon, he was laughing, then he was cackling, and then he was holding his sides like a madman (though that would perhaps be too kind a term for the likes of him). When he collected himself once again, he added, "That's . . . that's not possible . . ."

  A streak of lightning scratched its icy blue fire across the canvas of the sky.

  Staring into Phoenix's soul, Chrono took a few steps back. His knees were a little shaky. Maybe this was what Alysia had been talking about when she said the man couldn't keep people frozen forever.

  "I've killed the last of your kind," Chrono said passionately. "You're all dead. What is this trick?!" Now he wasn't laughing or smiling.

  He glared at Phoenix some more before raising an arm and screaming, "Answer me!" He whipped another holographic clock inches above his own head, and within seconds Phoenix dropped into the dewy grass. He hit the ground with a lot more impact than normal—he felt what the non-weather-casters would have called pain.

  Coughing, Phoenix pushed himself up to his knees, wiping away the muddy globs from his face. A bit had gotten into his eye, so he cupped a hand over it and briefly massaged the outside, hoping it would clear up in a moment. Moaning, he stood up, which sent another wave of dizziness strong enough to warrant medication through his mind, and another bolt of pain through his muscles. Even the sleeveless arm trembled, so he opted to hold it with the other.

  As if to combat the recent display of anger, Chrono chuckled, though Phoenix could tell it was with uncertainty as opposed to arrogance. "Tell me, little boy."

  Phoenix, heart still racing, cleared his throat. Hair flopping down over his ears like a swab of seaweed, he said, "Yeah, I'm a weather-caster." Another clearing of the throat. "And . . ."

  And what? What was the question?

  ". . . and you don't look too happy," Phoenix finished, unsure of whether to be petrified or brave.

  Chrono's demeanour would suggest, at least in some way, that he hadn't expected this, but if he killed all the other weather-casters (that seemed highly unlikely) then surely he wouldn't be acting this way. He would have frozen and killed the teen already, but something was stopping him from doing so. Maybe he was curious.

  "I am indeed curious," Chrono said as if Phoenix had spoken the thought aloud, "as to how you managed to go under the radar without me killing you. My, my, you are impressive for that. And for you to control lightning—well, isn't that wonderful . . . ?"

  Debating whether to tell him he was new, he opted for a more warrior-takes-the-crown approach. "You haven't killed all of us," Phoenix said. He looked back and saw Alysia, who was still ablaze with energy, holding onto trembling lips. That wasn't her fault of course; there wasn't all that much she could do while frozen.

  When Phoenix turned to face Chrono again, he continued. "So what's your plan now, gonna try kill me, too?" He spoke with bravery, but deep down he was shitting himself—hoping, just hoping, his voice wouldn't falter. "You're outnumbered."

  "Hmph." Chrono peered over Phoenix's shoulder. "Hello, little girl."

  Wordlessly, Valerie stepped out from under the rubble of the destroyed canopy, mask pulled up, arms raised. Flexing her forearms, she summoned a pair of direwolves, furred with wispy blue hair, peering with orange fire. They howled and circled her.

  "Interesting," Chrono said. There wasn't much of an echo anymore; he had been speaking too low for that. Plus, the wind had knocked him down a peg.

  There's always an interesting with you, isn't there? There's always an interesting.

  "You gonna run off like you always do, love?" asked Valerie with shockingly savage prowess. "Gonna wait till you isolate people and fight like a coward?"

  Although Phoenix hadn't witnessed this right away, he could see that Valerie's appearance had changed. She was more like the wolves, eyes illuminated in white, thick lines of cyan pulsing on her skin, and on her forehead: a symbol of a claw. Her hair was silver, too.

  "What do you know of cowardice, little girl?" Chrono said. "Am I more cowardly to stand alone than to fight in numbers? My, my, you are an intelligent little bunch, aren't you?"

  The two began going back and forth. Meanwhile, Phoenix's stare travelled over to Jeremiah, who was picking himself up off the ground. He stopped halfway when the giant holographic clock shook in the air. It flew down afterwards, sticking into the ground like a stake outside a cannibal tribe's camp.

  Not expecting this, Phoenix took a step back, his heart now pumping faster than ever. He slid his hand up and down his bicep, kneading to the pain. After that, the clock shattered, turning to whitish blue vapour. It whisked off into the night sky like magic. Time magic.

  But this recent occurrence didn't come without a price: Jeremiah paused, looked over at Chrono, wings flapped out (they spanned about twelve feet across), and cast a large spurt of fire across the villain's back. Then Jeremiah disappeared, turning into nothing more than molecules, just like the Shadow, just like Eric and Sebastian, just like the crystal at the very start of the game. It all happened so quickly Phoenix didn't know what to say or do, but he figured it out when a voice hissed from the molecules: Go, kid!

  It was Jeremiah, his final words.

  Chrono spun forward and bellowed. The nylon suit cloaked from shoulder to shoulder flopped, caught ablaze, and gave off an orange glow around his body.

  Phoenix felt the electricity sizzling in his veins reach their full potential—as full potential as they'll ever be—and the land in front of him bathed in the blue lustre of his aura. Seizing this opportunity, he split through the air like a cheetah, warm bubbles of saliva gathering at the corners of his mouth, closing the distance between him and the man he was supposed to kill—the man that wedged the gap between Phoenix and Alex, a dynamic duo—the man that blocked the gateway out of this hot mess of a world.

  WHACK!

  A bolt of explosive cyan lightning expelled from Phoenix's fist and sent the man with the clock spiralling across the viciously abundant green. Hell, the remaining molecules of the hologram and Jeremiah were still fading away, and Chrono's body pushed into them like a shotgun going off in the middle of a dust cloud. On cue, a clap of thunder roared off into the nebula behind the clouded sky, and seconds later an icy blue light whipped across it. This shutterflash left Phoenix temporarily blinded, but realising that time was a bit slower, he followed the trajectory of Chrono.

  Rain spat down, and the tornado was heading right towards them; Phoenix, of course, didn't pay much notice to this until the wind tugged on his clothes.

  Upon hitting the ground, Chrono raised his arm and froze Phoenix in place. But seconds later Valerie's wolves came growling up with white wisps burning at the eyes.

  Then a voice called behind him, and it wasn't Valerie's, but instead Alysia's: "I'm right behind you!"

  He, Phoenix, braced for what would follow. It went a little something like this: Alysia flew forward, causing a tail of wind to lag, along with a white-gold fire. She struck Chrono a couple times, but he didn't move; instead, the man buckled and fell under the pressure of the wolves. They began tearing into him as if he was a piece of lamb, gnawing and growling and gurgling gravely; certainly not a sound an animal would make if the taste was nice. (Though some dogs would become increasingly more defensive of their food depending on how good it tasted, irrespective of who was around them. It could be their owner or just about anyone. If they liked the food, they would take your goddamn hand off if you so much as take a step in their direction.) Chrono yelled, possibly with pain—hopefully with pain—and then Phoenix was able to move again. This time around, he fell but managed to stop himself from hitting the ground; his nose touched the tip of a dewy grass blade. Lightning channelling in his eyes, he levitated upright and floated over towards the wolves and Alysia, fists balled at his sides. And no longer was his heart racing with fear; rather, with exhilaration. He knew this man stood no chance. A smile crept onto his own face as if to confirm it, but then . . .

  "Enough!" Chrono yelled. The echo returned.

  An ectoplasmic white ball pushed away Alysia and Phoenix and the two large wolves. Phoenix maintained his stature despite being blown back, lifting an arm to block the oncoming debris. When all the effects dwindled and Phoenix could see what was going on, he whipped a glance at Chrono, realising that he wasn't entirely out of the woods yet. Around his body were floating clocks, smaller than the previous ones, and sure enough, they had whitish blue films. Slipping his arms up in the air, opening the palms, Chrono began humming. Or something was humming. Nevertheless, a purple fire burned around him as a magical aura.

  "Enough playing around with you worms!" he yelled; the voice was not his own. It sounded much deeper and more like Alysia's, as though there was more than one individual in there.

  The confidence that Phoenix had displayed not just to himself but to his previously fallen enemy vanished. In replacement, an acutely uneasy angst dug into his stomach, and a flutter of disorientation played in his mind: You're gonna die, you're gonna die, you're gonna die!

  There's a sixty-seven per cent chance God exists.

  Despite the brightness of Chrono's spirit, Phoenix made out the symbols on his palms, not unlike Valerie's, possessing infinity symbols. And his goggles matched those symbols, taking the shape of a sideways '8', where one side was larger than the other. Were they always like that? He honestly couldn't remember. The exhilaration of the fight had stripped away most of what he had remembered.

  His glazing nylon suit no longer possessed the flames of Jeremiah—no, purple lasers were pulsing across the fabric.

  Chrono smirked . . . arrogantly. He levitated until eye level with Phoenix.

  The Spiral was touching over his shoulder, dousing the clothes in a crisp violet shine, which, as time went on, would segue into azure. The stars would collapse under the will of joining clouds, and lightning would be quick to replace them. The tornado twisted and righted towards them. A glint caught the peripheral vision of Phoenix's eye. His jacket sleeve—the one he put under the tree. It took off into the twister and waned from sight.

  Thoughtfully, Phoenix wondered if he was going to survive this encounter.