Page 35 of Phoenix Chosen 3

We move in unison and sprint through the winery past a group of villagers gawking at the forest road. As we run, Tyler quickly slides the egg wrap around to his back where it’s mostprotected, then draws the sling from his belt and snatches up a handful of stones from the side of the path. My mate is focused and ready to fight. This isn’t the first time he’s chased down an enemy.

My first thought is that this is yet another glimpse of Tyler from before he was brought to this world, before he was with child, when he was a guard in the Gaean realm. But, no. That’s not entirely true. This isn’t Tyler from the past. This is Tyler now—informed by the person he was, but sharpened by his experiences here and strengthened by his pregnancy.

Does he see it? Does he know just how incredible he is?

This is why the Great Phoenix chose him. There is a flame inside of him that has only just taken light. It will burn so much brighter, I know it.

We see Gral standing at the forest’s edge, staring into the trees. He’s holding something in his fist—a linen sack. He turns and walks to us as we approach.

“They dropped this,” he says.

I take the sack from him and open it. The others gather around me and we all peek inside. It’s filled with bunches of herbs and several small, wooden boxes.

“These are some of the medicines we had on the cart,” Gral says, surprised. He checks one of the boxes and sees the beeswax seal still intact around the rim. “Why would they return these?”

“Should we go after them?” Tyler asks. “We might be able to catch them off guard.”

“Airos?” I ask. “You’re the hunter.”

He shakes his head. “We should finish our preparations. Being too hasty is a good way to make a mistake. We don’t want to walk into a trap.”

Back at the vineyard, Markos and some of the other villagers greet us with jubilation when they learn that we have a bag of their much-needed medicines.

“They willingly gave this bag back,” Tyler says. “Has that ever happened before?”

“Never,” Markos says.

Gral is unconvinced. “I believe they simply dropped it. It was an accident, not intentional.”

“But why were they sneaking around here to begin with?” Airos says. “What were they looking for?”

Markos is troubled. He shakes his head and grips a nearby chair for support. “There have always been fears that these bandits would eventually attempt to raid our town. It pains the heart to say we would have no way to stop them if they wished to take it from us.”

I watch as Tyler carefully removes the bag’s contents and arranges them on the table.

“I don’t know,” he says. “My gut is telling me there’s more to this. I don’t think this bag was dropped. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“It makes more sense than thieves deciding to be charitable with their stolen goods if that’s what you’re suggesting,” mutters Gral.

While I find myself agreeing with the Aylourosi on this, I have to restrain my desire to punch him in the face. His attitude is pissing me off.

Tyler sets the boxes on the table. The bag seems empty, but when he turns it over and shakes it, several bone-white leaves tumble out. Tyler reacts to them with a startled gasp, and that’s when I realize they aren’t leaves at all. I don’t know what they are. Their smooth surface and unnaturally perfect shape feel blindingly wrong and pull my mind back to a place I was sure I would never see again. They are marked with tiny symbols and a splash of blue that is so bright and intense it makes it impossible for me to look away. It’s just like the pieces of parchment I saw in Tyler’sahparrmenn.

These are not of our world.

The others stare at the white squares with the black symbols and blue dye. Airos looks from the corner of his eye, as though he is concerned about allowing his full gaze to settle on them.

"These runes…” he says.

“W-what are they?” Markos asks.

“By the Gods,” Gral says. “They’recurses. We are doomed.”

Tyler picks up the tokens. “No, that’s not what they are at all. It’s medicine. Burn gel.”

Gral frowns. “These are not part of our shipment.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Tyler replies. “That’s because they’re not from Circeana at all.” He turns and looks at me. “There’s some fuckery going on here, Kalistratos.”

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