Chapter 13
Phoenix
The stone walls of the subterranean corridors deep beneath Imperium wept with centuries of dampness. I ran my fingertips along the rough-hewn granite as we walked, feeling the dormant earthen magic humming just beneath the surface.
To anyone else, these passages were just too cold, too dark and nothing more than a forgotten labyrinth winding below the academy’s glamorous gothic architecture.
But to me, the earth spoke in low, vibrating frequencies that only a Taurus could feel.
It remembered the hands that had carved it.
It remembered the blood that had spilled on it.
And most of all, it remembered the magic that had scarred it.
I adjusted the heavy wool of my dark robes, the fabric swallowing the tiny bits of light cast by the flickering torches mounted in iron sconces along the walls. Beside me, my shield brothers moved in silence. We were heading to the central chamber. The Order of Ophiuchus was convening tonight.
Usually, the Order met only once a month, synchronized with the darkest phase of the moon. But this was our second meeting in as many weeks. Entirely because of her.
Jupiter.
Just the thought of her name made the knot of guilt tighten in my chest. It ground against my ribs like tectonic plates shifting out of alignment.
I reached up, my fingers finding the cool, smooth surface of the jade pendant resting against my sternum—a family heirloom. I needed its comfort tonight.
The Order of Ophiuchus wasn’t some nefarious cult or political faction vying for control of the Assembly.
It was family. The elders waiting for us in the central chamber were our parents, our grandparents, our aunts, and our uncles.
They were the remnants of the founding families.
The oldest zodiac bloodlines left on Earth that remembered the old ways.
We were the keepers of a truth the rest of our world had relegated to myth.
For thousands of years, every generation passed down the knowledge of the old worlds—the thirteen connected planets our ancestors had freely traveled before the First Crossing.
And with that history came the prophecy, that one day, when the stars aligned just right, a new serpent bearer would be born.
The Ophis. The only designation capable of creating portals, the one who would finally lead the Aelari back to their true home.
The Assembly treated the texts as allegorical legends. They were perfectly content to rule over the Aelari here on Earth, using us as highly trained military assets to fight the bane. They didn’t know the Order existed right under their noses, operating in the deepest shadows of Imperium.
And Jupiter didn’t know either.
Hence the guilt. Ever since she arrived at Imperium, I’d felt this undeniable, magnetic pull of her magic calling to mine.
We all had. When I stood beside her in the woods, helping her anchor her energy to open those portals, I felt a profound, staggering sense of what I could only describe at rightness.
Her power was breathtaking, and so was she, in every bloody way imaginable.
I wanted to protect her. I wanted to stand between her and the rest of the world and absorb every blow meant for her.
But we were keeping a monumental secret from her.
We had to tell her about the Order. We had to sit her down and confess that we were the heirs to this ancient society, that our families had spent millennia waiting for her specifically.
The question was whether she would hear that and stay, or whether she would just go.
Nightfall had broken something in her. They convinced her she was worth nothing, cast aside after one misunderstanding.
She carried that now everywhere she went.
I could see the pain in her eyes even when she smiled.
I saw the way she flinched at accidental touches and tried to cover it up.
Trust was a fragile thing, and once broken, almost impossible to glue back together.
If you managed it, there were still imperfections.
Every once in a while, those old wounds would throb and weep.
If we sat her down now and explained that our families believed she was a prophesied savior meant to open inter-dimensional portals for us, she wouldn’t see the benevolence of the Order.
She would only see another cage. She would think we were manipulating her into liking us, courting her just so the Order could use her abilities.
“You’re broadcasting, Phoenix,” Lucas murmured, nudging me but not breaking his stride. “Your magic is practically shaking the floor.”
I forced out a slow, exhausted breath, reining in the heavy, rumbling energy that was leaking into the stone beneath my boots. “Sorry. Just... thinking.”
“We’re all thinking the same thing, mate,” Rowan said from behind me. “The elders are going to want to push.”
“They’ve waited thousands of years,” Theo muttered. “To them, a few more weeks seems like an unnecessary delay. But we know her. We know how close she is to breaking entirely, especially after the mission.”
Jamie huffed. “If we push her, she’ll run. Or she’ll close herself off so completely we’ll never reach her. She’s hanging by a thread as it is.”
“We won’t let them push her,” Lucas spat. “We protect what’s ours. And whether she realizes it yet or not, she is ours to protect.”
Right he was.
The corridor widened, the damp granite giving way to smooth, obsidian-like stone. We approached a massive set of double doors forged from dark iron and etched with the cyclical, interwoven symbols of the thirteen zodiacs. As we neared, the doors swung open silently, revealing the Nexus Chamber.
The sheer volume of ambient magic in the room hit me hard, like always. The chamber was vast, circular, and completely unadorned by opulence. There were no banners, no gilded thrones. Just unyielding stone.
In the center of the room lay the altar, a raised dais of pale rock marred by a star-shaped scorch mark that spanned thirty feet across. It was pitch black, the stone vitrified into glass by the unimaginable heat of cosmic energy.
This was the exact site where the first portal had opened.
Thousands of years ago, our ancestors had stepped through the void of space onto this very spot, fleeing the bane incursions that had ravaged the home worlds.
The residual energy of that primordial portal still bled into the room, making it a magical hub of unparalleled power.
Just standing near it made the blood in my veins hum in recognition.
Surrounding the scorch mark stood the elders of the Order, all draped in the same heavy, dark robes we wore.
There were perhaps thirty of them in total.
I instantly spotted my grandmother, Tala, standing tall despite her eighty years, her long silver hair braided over her shoulder, her dark eyes still sharp and kind.
Beside her was Arthur Bennett, Lucas’s father, projecting the same aristocratic, commanding aura as his son.
I saw Theo’s mother, Rowan’s grandfather, Jamie’s aunt and three uncles, and my own father.
As we stepped into the circle, the low murmur of conversation ceased. The elders turned their attention to us, their eyes gleaming with barely contained fervor.
“You felt it,” Arthur Bennett said. It wasn’t a question. “The entire foundation of Imperium resonated this week.”
Lucas stepped forward, inclining his head respectfully to his father and the rest of the council. “Jupiter’s portaling power has grown exponentially. Her control is extraordinary.”
A collective murmur of awe swept through the room. My grandmother stepped closer to the edge of the scorch mark, her dark eyes fixed on me. “She anchored to unseen physical locations?”
“Yes, grandmother. And she anchored to magical signatures. She opened a portal directly to Lucas, and then to Rowan. The spatial manipulation was seamless.”
“The prophecy awakens,” an older Scorpio man named Nathaniel whispered reverently, tracing a circular symbol over his heart. “The Serpent Bearer is ready to open the way.”
“She is not ready,” Lucas interrupted, his tone respectful but leaving no room for argument.
The murmurs died down instantly. “She’s immensely powerful, yes.
but emotionally and psychologically, she’s severely compromised.
The Nightfall Shield inflicted deep spiritual wounds on her.
If we approach her now with the burden of the Order and the expectations of a millennia-old prophecy, she isn’t going to come quietly.
We want her on our side, with trust and truth, not manipulation. ”
Arthur frowned, the lines around his mouth deepening.
“Lucas, we’ve waited for generations. The bane incursions are increasing globally as more of them head towards Earth.
Who knows how many worlds they’ve fed from already.
If enough of them make it through, billions of humans will die.
The Assembly is blind to the larger threat.
We should bring her into the fold as soon as possible.
We must explain her true purpose so she can begin the great work. ”
“Her purpose is not to become a tool for our personal salvation,” Rowan growled, stepping up beside Lucas.
His magic flared, dropping the temperature in the room by several degrees.
“She was treated like a caged weapon by the Assembly, and she was discarded like garbage by her own bonded shield because of it. If we tell her that our families have been waiting for her to act as a messiah, she’ll think we’re no different than them, and I wouldn’t even blame her. ”
“We are nothing like them!” a woman from the Hargrave family protested indignantly. “We revere the Ophis. We would worship her if—”
“Worship is just another kind of cage, Samara.” My father said softly. He stepped out from the circle of elders, his broad shoulders squared, always larger than life.