Page 16 of Phoenix Chosen 3

7

KALISTRATOS

Iawake to bird song and the feeling that I’ve been asleep too long. Tyler snores softly on his side, his face just a few inches away from mine and his arms wrapped tightly around the egg.

Our egg.

I smile to myself. It was not long ago the prospect of fatherhood seemed as likely as finding the mythical floating city of Cephallenia. I don’t think there was ever a time I pictured myself becoming a parent.

Am I capable of raising a child? I’ve never been known to make wise decisions, but I suppose that’s where Tyler comes in.

But what will happen with our child, once this journey is over? Lord Atherios had said the children of the Chosen “bear a fire that will restore the flame in the lost temple.” What did that mean? How would their power bring him back?

In my head, I imagine three small children raising torches to light a brazier inside of a wondrous temple and the Great Phoenix appearing in a flash of light. All darkness, gone.Umbrios locked away. Tyler, Alyx, Airos, and two unknown omegas smiling and clapping. Everyone’s happy.

Cheesus. Two more pregnant omegas. Does that mean they will be mates for Alyx and Airos?

I stifle a chuckle. It’s not difficult to imagine Airos taking a mate, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a few omegas out there, wondering whether he would ever return to their little village. I don’t know Airos well, but from the time we’ve spent together, I’ve gotten the clear impression that he loves dipping his wick as much as he likes sucking on that little wine gourd of his.

Alyx, on the other hand… I’ve known him almost my whole life, and many of those years were spent in some form other than human, whether it be cat, raven, dog, or something else. His taste in omegas isn’t something we’d ever discussed. Our relationship is built on quiet understanding. That’s how it’s always been, and that’s why we’d become such good friends. We accept there are things about the other that we don’t need to know.

Without disturbing Tyler, I leave the shack to find Airos returning to the campsite from somewhere carrying a basket of wild greens, figs, grapes, and a few small mushrooms.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he says, setting the basket on a rock. “I have breakfast for you and Tyler. It isn’t much, I’m afraid. I didn’t want to chance lighting a fire for something more robust.”

“I’m accustomed to eating forage,” I tell him. “And it looks like you’ve collected quite a good haul.”

“Thank you very much,” he says with a bow. “I’ve tried to avoid going into town as much as possible these past few weeks. It gave me some time to sharpen my skills in the woods. A man can eat well from the forest if he knows where to look. How did you sleep?”

“Well enough. Thank you again for keeping watch. I was going to relieve you, but I slept through the night… I was more exhausted than I realized.”

He shakes his head. “It’s fine. Priests of Gnosis are trained to stay awake for days at a time.”

“For what?”

“Reading. Study. It’s the only way one could ever expect to consume even a fraction of the knowledge available in our archives. To my fortune, sleeping is not one of my strengths. So, as you can imagine, I’ve been able to learn a lot.” With a smile, Airos pats my shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine for the journey ahead. Trust me, I’m accustomed to it.”

“Alright,” I say, with a shrug. “You’d better not get all loopy on us.”

“I have my tea, two companions, and I’ll refill my wine gourd in town. That will keep me going today.”

“Will you make a supply run?” I ask.

“I was about to go now. And to see if I can find out what became of that Hulaiosi. What was their name?”

“Praxis Skotos,” I say unhappily, once again recalling the events of last night.

With a yawn and a stretch, Tyler emerges from the shack. “Good morning,” he says, settling beside me with the egg cradled in its wrapping against his hip. “Wow, I slept like the dead.”

The side of his hair is poking straight up from sleep, and I reach over and brush it down with my fingers. The morning sun dapples over his sleepy face through the leaves overhead, and he smiles at me.

“Breakfast for our Chosen,” Airos says, offering the basket to Tyler.

“Mm.Sucha bro,” Tyler says, grabbing a fig and some grapes. “I’m fucking starving.”

“I’m familiar with the name Praxis Skotos,” Airos says as he sits on the ground across from us. “Quite the reputation in the mercenary circles.”

I shouldn’t be surprised that Airos knows him. I sometimes forget the monk garb only represents one of his professions.

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