Chapter 128: Phoenix Reborn (Patreon)

In Calgary, I rented us a house on the outskirts of the city, close to the direction of Mount Rundle. We needed a while on Earth to finish the last tasks. Rue resumed his patrolling, delivering a daily “report” in the evening that left the three of us with a telepathic headache. He stopped being glued to the TV, at least. Setting up my workstation, I continued to write a full account of my journey.

“I thought you were done with the lists?” Mahya asked, her eyes curious.

“I am.”

“So what are you writing?”

“Everything that happened to me since discovering the Gate. I want to warn Earth so they can get ready.”

“Can I read it?”

“Sure, when I’m done.”

Al approached me next. “Why did we never visit Ikea?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. We just didn’t.”

“I’m going to visit Ikea and need money.”

I gave him $3,000, then another $5,000, and then another $3,000. It looked like we had some visits to make, and Al looked smug. I would have suspected he did it on purpose, but I heard him gush to Mahya about Ikea, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt and continued writing.

Mahya came to me again, “I need you to channel Restore into the cars, bikes, ATV, and Jet skis.”

“It will kill them.”

She gave me a look. “I know.”

I was utterly confused. “Why are we killing our transportation?”

“Remember the smart homes we saw in the news story?” When I nodded, she continued, “I don’t want to take a chance that there will be an adverse reaction in a mana world. We know that Restore kills the electronics and everything electric, but the parts survive without a problem.”

“We need one jeep for everyday use.”

“No problem, just kill the rest.”

So, I channeled Restore into all the vehicles. Initially, I wanted to leave three jet skis for us and donate the rest, but Mahya wouldn’t hear of it. As a result, I had a Grand Wagoneer (A “donation” from the drug dealers) to kill that needed only a little Restore and the second-hand Wrangler that needed a lot of Restore. Mahya put back together her motorcycle that didn’t need any restoration, but I still flooded it with mana. Mine and Al’s bike and ATV also got murdered in cold blood. I needed a couple of days to regenerate, and then systematically murdered 12 jet skis.

I expected Mahya to jump on the vehicles project after my acts of murder, but she surprised me. She stored all the vehicles, took out the balloon, and began embroidering it with gold thread. Every time she looked at me, I felt the need to dust off my shoulders smugly. I got the evil eye every time, and she threatened to make me join the project. I still felt the need to dust my shoulders occasionally and immediately vacate the premises.

Canada is crazy about hockey, and they infected Al with the bug. Since it was summer, there were no frozen lakes, but that didn’t stop the Canadians. The city was full of skating rinks, and Al was in heaven. I was less in heaven when he took the rest of the money to buy hockey gear. From sticks and nets to pucks and skates in every size in triplicates or more.

When I tried to complain about it, he reminded me about 3.5 tons of coffee, and I had to admit defeat and drive two hours to visit some drug dealers. We had a busy night, my nerves were writing me complaint letters, and Al and Mahya were all smiles. He got more drugs, and she got more guns and ammo. I used to think about Mahya as a playful, trouble-making imp, but lately, my impression of her has shifted to a crazy, gun-toting maniac.

While writing, I remembered so many things that happened to me. The first time I met Rue—then Stretch—baby Sophia, meeting Lis for the first time. Our two years in London before rescuing Mahya, the journey around Europe. The giant scary snake. Meeting Al for the first time—God, he was an ass back then. China, saying goodbye to Lis, the house on the ocean, and the balloon in the air, my show in SF. Sonak is still an idiot. The rescue, milking Vegas, the crazy robbery …

During my writing, I laughed, shed a few tears, facepalmed a lot, and shook my head in embarrassment, resignation, helplessness, and any other emotion. It was quite a journey. Comparing myself nine years ago, when Sophie died, to now, I can see that I was a completely different person. I still had some work to do on myself. I was self-aware enough to know that I lacked empathy and care for people that I didn’t form a connection with, and I was too clingy when I did. But even with those points that still needed work, I was a new person and much better. I shed a lot of shit I carried for many years, locked inside of me like some twisted, hidden treasure. My journey helped me let it go, shed the past, and look at the future. And the future looked amazing.

I felt like a phoenix that went through the crucible and was reborn in the fire. That inspired me, and I wrote two songs to articulate what I felt. Or, more accurately, I didn’t write them—they burst out of me fully formed.

Phoenix’s Flight

Verse 1:
In the heart’s forge, where sorrows smolder,
A phoenix stirs, its wings aflame.
The past, a pyre—memories grow colder,
From ashes, hope ignites its game.

Chorus: 
Rise from ashes, wings unfurled,
Let go of pain, embrace the world.
In flames reborn, your spirit soars,
Healed and whole, forevermore.

Pre-Chorus:
Each tear shed fuels the fiery ascent,
Breaking chains that bound despair.
Embrace the flames, their fierce intent,
To lift you high into the air.

Chorus: 
Rise from ashes, wings unfurled,
Let go of pain, embrace the world.
In flames reborn, your spirit soars,
Healed and whole, forevermore.

Verse 2:
Embers of memory, fierce and bright,
Kindle anew, a phoenix’s birth.
From smoldering remnants, take your flight,
Feathers ablaze, reclaim your worth.

Chorus: 
Rise from ashes, wings unfurled,
Let go of pain, embrace the world.
In flames reborn, your spirit soars,
Healed and whole, forevermore.

Bridge:
The pyre of heartache, once consuming,
Now fuels ascent, a celestial dance.
In skies uncharted, find your blooming,
A soul set free from circumstance.

Verse 3:
Embers fade, yet memories remain,
A tapestry of ache and might.
From smoky remnants, courage gained,
The phoenix sings of dawn’s first light.

Chorus: 
Rise from ashes, wings unfurled,
Let go of pain, embrace the world.
In flames reborn, your spirit soars,
Healed and whole, forevermore.

Outro:
In flight, you trace new constellations,
Each star a beacon in the night.
Wings whisper tales of transformations,
As healing winds lift you to height.

 RISE FROM THE ASHES

Chorus:
I am the phoenix, rising from the pyre,
Wings aflame with hope, my spirit higher.
In the alchemy of healing, I aspire,
To rewrite my story, set my heart on fire.

Verse 1:
In the caverns of my heart, ember-lit,
I cradled memories like fragile glass,
Each shard a testament to pain endured,
A fractured mirror reflecting my past.

Chorus:
I am the phoenix, rising from the pyre,
Wings aflame with hope, my spirit higher.
In the alchemy of healing, I aspire,
To rewrite my story, set my heart on fire.

Verse 2:
But the alchemist moon whispered secrets,
How to transmute sorrow into gold,
To weave new constellations from old wounds,
And find solace in stories yet untold.

Chorus:
I am the phoenix, rising from the pyre,
Wings aflame with hope, my spirit higher.
In the alchemy of healing, I aspire,
To rewrite my story, set my heart on fire.

Verse 3:
So I stitched stardust into my veins,
Painted galaxies upon my skin,
For the universe is vast, and I am but
A wanderer seeking where dreams begin.

Chorus:
I am the phoenix, rising from the pyre,
Wings aflame with hope, my spirit higher.
In the alchemy of healing, I aspire,
To rewrite my story, set my heart on fire.

Verse 4:
Now, I stand on the precipice of dawn,
My scars no longer chains but battle hymns,
And as the sun kisses my broken edges,
I leap—my phoenix heart ablaze, wings trimmed.

Chorus:
I am the phoenix, rising from the pyre,
Wings aflame with hope, my spirit higher.
In the alchemy of healing, I aspire,
To rewrite my story, set my heart on fire.

Outro:
For the past is but a canvas, and I,
An artist with colors yet untried,
I’ll paint my tomorrows with hope’s brushstroke,
And let healing winds carry me skyward.

It took me almost two entire months, twelve to fifteen hours a day, but I was done with my account. I printed one copy and gave it to Mahya to read, and also gave her all the pictures I took along the journey. I heard her laughing her ass off more than once and suspected that it was on my account and not because of my humorous writing.

In the evening of the first day she was reading my account, she came to me and asked, “If you had no electricity, how would you use the enlarger.”

“Mirrors and the sun. Why?”

She burst out laughing again and said, “Don’t you ever dare to protest the name clueless. It fits you even more than John.”

I just looked at her, perplexed and confused.

She hit the back of my head and said, “You have an Adaptable Light Ball.”

I facepalmed. I was never getting rid of the moniker Clueless.

While Mahya was reading, I went looking for a bookbinder. I had a lot of books without runes or magic scripts that I could bind in the “technological” way. I found a big bookbinding service in Calgary and brought them all the books on A4 pages, held by rubber bands. They stared at me and stared even more when they saw the letters were like nothing they had ever seen.

The clerk at the bookbinding service, a middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard and kind eyes, looked at the pages with curiosity. “What is that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Fantasy books for Dungeons and Dragons,” I replied.

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Aren’t they supposed to have nice covers?”

“When they will be published, sure. Right now, I’m looking for a company that will buy them from me, but to do that, I need them bound.”

The clerk nodded, giving me an encouraging smile. “Good luck, man.”

They bound all my books, and I went looking for a bookbinder that does traditional binding with glue and thread.

I found somebody like that!

I told her the same story I told the other place, but when I came to collect the books, she confronted me. She didn’t believe me and insisted that those were not just fantasy props because every time she looked at the content, she felt like her eyes were sliding off the text, and it gave her headaches. I promised to give her answers soon and added her to my future mailing list.

Mahya was done with the reading, and we moved to the next stage of my plan. I prepared a long list of addresses of every government on Earth and of the main management of every first responder force—like firefighters and paramedics, etc. We bought more A4 paper, sent the file to the printer, and also the three of us used the spell Copy Text to duplicate the story again and again. When Mahya would run out of mana, she would put copies in envelopes and write the addresses. It took us two weeks to finish the full list, but the envelopes were ready.

While Mahya was almost done with the balloon, I searched for sites that allow a person to publish a story and preppers and survivalists’ sites through the internet, social media, and various forums. I uploaded my story to all the writing sites but didn’t publish it yet. I kept it as a draft.

Mahya was done with the balloon, and we went to a field and filled it with air until it floated. Mahya sent Al and me to verify there was nobody around, and when she got the all-clear, she shot the balloon with a rifle!

“What are you doing? Are you crazy?” I cried.

She laughed and showed me the balloon. There wasn’t even a mark on it, not to mention a hole. It was in pristine condition. I just stared with my jaw down to my waist. She clapped me on the back, laughing.

Next, she had me shoot arrows at it. Nothing happened to the balloon. Then we tried to burn it with a torch. Nothing—still in pristine condition. We had an amazing balloon. Next, she did something; I felt foggy for a second and remembered that we were hungry and should go to eat. Al enthusiastically agreed with me, and we started walking away.

Mahya’s laughter stopped us. “Close your eyes, boys, and give me your hands.”

She wasn’t making any sense, and we really needed to go to eat. She actually grabbed our shoulders, told us to stop, and pricked my finger.

“Ouch, what are you doing?” I was getting upset.

She did something, and suddenly, my mind cleared, and I remembered the balloon and that we were there to test it. Also, I ate an hour ago.

“How did you do that?”

“Runes.”

She pointed at a row of runes and told me their meaning—Invisibility, Memory, Confusion, Obfuscation, Recall, Clarity, Blood, Protection, Binding—and then pointed at the key rune that canceled the effect on us via our blood.

She was simply amazing, and I told her that.

After we were done with the balloon, we had a short deliberation on whether to go or delay and came to an agreement to delay for a short while for workshops.

Mahya had over 250, I had 199, and Al had 84. Since I was stocking for two, it was less than it looked. We decided Mahya would start work on one jeep to convert it to Magitech, and Al and I would attend workshops.

·       Advanced Painting Techniques

·       Carving for Beginners

·       Glassblowing Fundamentals

·       Woodworking: Building Your First Project

·       Leather Crafting Essentials

·       Metalworking and Blacksmithing: The Art of Shaping Metal

·       Creative Writing Workshop: Finding Your Voice

·       Bookbinding: Traditional Techniques

·       Wine Tasting and Pairing

·       Artisanal Cheese Making

·       Gardening and Horticulture: Growing Your Own Vegetables

·       Urban Farming: Maximizing Small Spaces

·       Sustainable Living Practices

·       Fitness and Personal Training: Getting Started

·       Introduction to Ballroom Dancing

·       Film Production and Editing Basics

·       Graphic Design Essentials

·       Web Development: Building Your First Website

·       App Development for Beginners

·       Social Media Marketing Strategies

·       Photo Editing with Photoshop

·       Interior Design: Transforming Your Space

·       Fashion Design: Sketching

·       Cosmetology Basics

·       Nail Art and Design Techniques

·       Hair Styling 101

·       Mindfulness and Stress Management

·       Public Speaking and Communication Skills

·       Leadership and Management Training

·       Entrepreneurship: Starting Your Own Business

·       Financial Planning and Investment Strategies

·       Career Development and Networking

·       Environmental Conservation: Protecting Natural Resources

·       The Basics of Rock Climbing

·       Survival Skills and Wilderness Training

Attending workshops with Al was like navigating a maze of eccentricity and entitlement. Despite his royal airs, I couldn’t deny his knack for picking up new skills, even if his attitude often left much to be desired.

Our first workshop, Advanced Painting Techniques, began with Al strutting into the room, examining the brushes and paints with an air of disdain. “Is this the best they have?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. The instructor, a patient woman with paint-splattered overalls, started the lesson on blending colors. Al, surprisingly, produced a stunning sunset by the end, but not without complaining about the quality of the paints every five minutes.

Next, we tried Carving for Beginners. Al picked up a chisel, his nose wrinkled in disgust at the sawdust. “This is barbaric,” he declared. Yet, as the session progressed, he sculpted a remarkably detailed lion’s head. He never admitted it, but I saw a glimmer of pride in his eyes when the instructor praised his work.

Glassblowing Fundamentals was a disaster waiting to happen. Al, fascinated by the molten glass, got too close and singed his royal sleeves. “This is intolerable!” he yelped, but he created a delicate glass flower after he calmed down. “A masterpiece, naturally,” he said, holding it up for everyone to admire.

In Woodworking: Building Your First Project, Al’s complaints about the roughness of the wood filled the room. “This is beneath me,” he grumbled. However, his final project, a beautifully carved wooden box, suggested otherwise. He might have pretended to be indifferent, but his meticulous work spoke volumes.

Leather Crafting Essentials brought out Al’s disdain for manual labor again. “Do you expect me to handle rawhide?” he asked incredulously. Yet, he crafted a stylish leather belt that he later wore with great flair. “Fit for a prince,” he said, satisfied with his work.

In Metalworking and Blacksmithing, Al was skeptical about the forge’s heat. “I could melt,” he protested. Despite his theatrics, he forged a decorative small knife with intricate designs. “A true symbol of royalty,” he declared, twirling it with an unnecessary flourish.

The Creative Writing Workshop was where Al truly shined. He spun tales of heroic princes and grand adventures, captivating everyone. “Clearly, I have a gift,” he remarked, completely earnest. His stories were indeed engaging, though heavily centered on his princely persona.

Bookbinding: Traditional Techniques had Al complaining about the glue and thread. “This is a servant’s job,” he insisted. But when he bound a book with a beautifully designed cover, he couldn’t hide his satisfaction. “It’s a royal tome now,” he said, admiring his work.

Wine Tasting and Pairing had Al in his element. He swirled, sniffed, and sipped with exaggerated finesse. “This is divine,” he proclaimed, though his pompous demeanor couldn’t mask his genuine enjoyment. He showed a surprisingly refined palate and offered insightful comments on each wine.

Artisanal Cheese Making saw Al turning up his nose at the curdling milk. “This is repulsive,” he declared. However, when he tasted his final product, a rich and creamy cheese, he grudgingly admitted, “It’s not bad for commoners’ work.”

Sustainable Living Practices had Al skeptical. “Why should I care about sustainability?” he scoffed.

Introduction to Ballroom Dancing was Al’s favorite. He moved with grace and confidence, clearly enjoying the spotlight. “Dancing is a royal art,” he said, twirling his partner effortlessly.

Film Production and Editing Basics revealed Al’s flair for drama. He directed with a heavy hand but produced a short film that was surprisingly good. “A cinematic masterpiece,” he called it, with no hint of irony.

Graphic Design Essentials had Al critiquing every tool. “These are primitive,” he declared. Yet, he created a striking logo by the end, claiming it was “worthy of a royal seal.”

Web Development: Building Your First Website saw Al struggling with code. “This is nonsense,” he grumbled.

App Development for Beginners was another challenge. Al found coding tedious. “This is not my calling,” he sighed.

Photo Editing with Photoshop was frustrating for Al. “This is trickery,” he said, but he created a beautifully edited photo. “Art through deception,” he mused.

Interior Design: Transforming Your Space saw Al’s royal tastes come to the fore. He designed a lavish room, stating, “Only the best for royalty.”

Cosmetology Basics had Al skeptical. “This is unnecessary,” he said. Yet, he mastered the basics, admitting, “Even a prince must look his best.”

Nail Art and Design Techniques saw Al reluctantly participating. “This is trivial,” he declared, but he designed intricate patterns, acknowledging, “Art in the smallest details.”

Hair Styling 101 was amusing. Al’s disdain for hair products was evident. “This is absurd,” he said.

Public Speaking and Communication Skills had Al in his element. He delivered speeches with charisma, asserting, “A prince must inspire.”

Leadership and Management Training was a natural fit. Al’s commanding presence shone through, and he led group activities with ease. “A prince leads by example,” he said.

Career Development and Networking had Al intrigued. “Connections are vital,” he noted, excelling in networking exercises.

Environmental Conservation: Protecting Natural Resources was a hard sell. “Why bother?” he asked.

Survival Skills and Wilderness Training was Al’s least favorite. “A prince does not camp,” he declared. Yet, he learned essential skills, grudgingly admitting, “Survival is necessary.”

Despite his constant complaints and royal airs, Al’s talent and determination shone through in each workshop. He might never admit it, but these experiences shaped him, proving that even a spoiled prince could learn and grow.

Mahya still didn’t finish the jeep, but there was no reason to delay anymore. We spent the last money and called UPS to collect all the envelopes. I pressed publish on all the sites where I put my story, and Mahya and Al helped me to post on hundreds of sites:

This is not a fantasy
Verify the facts given in the story
Get ready to survive

With a link to the story online.

I stored all the computers, wished them well in my mind, and we drove to Mount Rundle. We did it at night, so I could channel Restore into the jeep, and then store it.

We walked to the Gate and touched it to read the world’s information—even Mahya, although reluctantly. It was time for a new adventure.