Page 22 of Phoenix Chosen 3

“It’s not bad, thank the Gods. It could’ve skewered you.” He kisses the side of my head, ignoring the fact that I’m still covered in blood.

“Kalistratos, I’m disgusting,” I protest.

“Do you think I care? I thought you were done for, Tyler.Gods.” He hugs me. “You need to be more careful. This isn’t Gaea.”

“I know, I just, I thought…”

Here I was, getting myself worked up about pulling my weight, and I nearly got myself—and all of us—killed. I hadn’t even considered that taking a few steps away would be dangerous.

I raise my arms to hug him back and realize they’re shaking. The shock is starting to settle in.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

I feel so useless. I feel like I failed my first test as a parent. I put my family at risk.

“I’m alright, in case anyone was wondering,” Airos groans from the grass where he’s lying.

Kalistratos and I go and help him up. I know the symptoms—he’s used up all his phoenix energy.

“Thank you, Airos,” I tell him.

He nods and waves his hand like a marathon runner too exhausted for an interview.

“I guess we know what that hunter was doing here,” Kalistratos says, looking off toward the stone tower. “Hoped to take home a prize and instead became dinner.”

“We don’t…we don’t have to worry about another one of those things coming, do we?” I ask. “A mate? Or a flock?”

“Harpyiai are incredibly territorial,” says Airos, and then gestures for me to lift my arms. “Let me see. I know some healing magic.”

He picks up his staff and places his palm near the cuts. It itches and prickles as the wound closes up and scabs over.

“I’ve read their essence is quite valuable,” Airos adds. “Same with their eggs. Perhaps we shouldn’t let this kill go to waste.”

We approach the carcass lying cloven in two on the ground. That cotton candy smell is nauseatingly strong.

“Whatisthat, anyway?” I cover my nose with my hand, but my palm smells like blood. I need a goddamn bath.

“That’s their essence,” Kalistratos says, leaning down with his sword. “Meant to lure in the curious.”

Seeing the thing close up, it’s more obvious the upper section is just some kind of biological mimicry. The human “face” has no actual anatomy. It’s like those caterpillars with faces on their asses.

“These are a delicacy where I’m from,” says Airos. “The legs and the wings are wonderful when turned over a flame.”

“That is so fucking gross,” I say.

Kalistratos slices the monster’s chest where the feathers begin. “Whereareyou from, Airos?” he says.

“The Isle of Tassos. It’s been many years since I’ve left.”

“Are there more Phoenikos on Tassos?” Kalistratos asks as he works on the monster.

It’s impressive to watch, despite how disgusting it is. Without hesitation, he stuffs his hands inside the carcass and starts rooting around like he’s searching through luggage for a spare toothbrush.

“As far as I ever found, I was the only Phoenikos on the island. Tassos is like anywhere else. I never knew my birth parents.”

“We have this in common,” Kalistratos replies. He grits his teeth and gets elbow deep into the creature. “Ah… there.” He yanks out what looks like a chunk of amber. “This is it. Harpyiai essence.”

Airos pours a bit of water over it, cleaning away the drips of dark blood. It sparkles brightly in the sun.

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