Phoenix13: Redemption (Phoenix13 Book 2)

Part #10: Red Dawn: Prologue

Prologue

The first thing that James McKinley smelled when he came to was a honey-laced fragrance of roses and fresh-crushed ginger. It filled his nose and muddied his thoughts, calming him even as he struggled to draw breath. The air was thick and heavy in his nose and throat, catching in his lungs and rasping loudly as he drew large mouthfuls past tightly clenched teeth.

"It is done." A soft voice sounded above him. It was equal parts familiar and strange, like a page torn out of a half-forgotten book, or the lyrics of a half-remembered song. "Your brother lives again, Commander Wolfe."

The reply came a long moment after. "Are you sure you can call this life, Lady Callista?" The second voice was male. His tone was low and cautious, gilded with tentative hope. James's heart soared at the jolt of recognition that shot through his heart at the sound. It was his half-brother, William Wolfe. "He looks more like my dead father than my dear brother," William continued. "Maybe the procedure didn't work. Maybe he would be better off if I ended his misery now."

"No." Rosetta's voice was sharp. Warning. "It worked. Touch him, and I will destroy you. The King lives again, Commander Wolfe. And I will defend him to my last breath. Do you understand?"

"Yes, My Lady Callista." The Commander replied. His every word sparkled with newly kindled joy and excitement. With relief. "I'm with you completely concerning this matter. I only want what's best for my brother. Now and forever."

James opened his eyes slowly. The sight that met him was equal parts wonderful and terrifying. He was surrounded on all sides by a thick white light, the faint outlines of walls and a high ceiling swimming and wobbling like reflections in thick cream. "What... where...?" He swallowed hard, wincing as the frigid muscles of his throat contracted sluggishly. Panic flared white-hot in his chest. he forced it down. Emotions would get him nowhere at the moment. Fear was another enemy to destroy. To cut down and bury deep.

When he spoke again, the King's voice broke on every word, but at least it could be understood. The tremor was still there, but the tone was stronger. Surer. "Where am I?" he said slowly. Dragging out each syllable as he struggled to breathe evenly.

Immediately Rosetta Callista's face came into focus above him. The curves and lines of her face were sharper and more mature than he remembered. Vaguely, James wondered how much time had passed since Skyler had betrayed him and thrown him down off his throne.

"Brother." William was at James's side in an instant. James felt familiar battle-rough fingers come to rest on his own forearm. A familiar smiling face appeared beside Rosetta's, weathered skin crinkling into a hundred little wrinkles. "Welcome home."

James sat up in a sudden burst of fear, trying desperately to push himself away from his half-brother and the young woman by his side. "What happened? What year is it? Where're my sons?" He paused for breath, blinking around blearily. "What happened to my city?" His chest heaved as his entire body began to shake forcefully. Every inch of his skin burned as if he were lying on a bed of hot coals. As he watched, a cloud of thick whiteness spiral away from his lips; he realized that it was cold, not heat, that had sank its fangs into his flesh and dragged him toward death's embrace. I was frozen, he remembered. Memories lapped at the front of his mind like waves on a beach. I was imprisoned in the depths of Carceris Caeci. I should be dead.

"King McKinley." Rosetta's voice was like heated honey in the white room's frigid atmosphere. Her emerald eyes glittered brightly in the clean glow surrounding them. James faintly registered that the light was coming from dozens of long, narrow ceiling lights high above. "You've been asleep for four years, my King," Rosetta explained gently. Her lips twisted with kind compassion. "Skyler Callista's reign has only just come to an end. Until this moment, I was unable to set you free. But now it is time for you to retake the throne and return Nathandria to its former glory."

William had moved across the room to a chest full of thick blankets. He returned with one spread between his hands, wrapping it firmly around James's shoulders. Without dropping his gaze from his brother's face, the Commander addressed Rosetta. "He's not ready, Rosetta. I'll tell him later. Understood? You aren't allowed to tell him now. I know you're thinking about it."

Rosetta's face fell. James looked between them, his heart sinking. "What?" he demanded. His voice was weak and toneless. He swallowed, trying desperately to ignore the shooting pains that wracked his chest and coursed through the muscles of his neck. He blinked the last of the fog from his vision. Raising his chin, he fixed his brother with a dark glare. "I am the King, Lady Callista. Commander Wolfe. You will treat me as such."

But William simply shook his head, looking sad. "No, my King. You need rest. You barely survived the process. We'll speak at length once you've recuperated."

"I will not be told what to do, Commander. I'm fine." Even as he spoke these words, James knew they were a lie. His sight begun to fade around the edges. His heart-beat slowed and his breathing was thick and unsteady. Staying upright became a struggle.

"No, my King." Rosetta moved forward, placing one hand on his shoulder. Immediately James felt his willpower draining. Her fingers were so warm against his newly thawed skin, tempting him back toward sleep. Toward oblivion. "Rest now," the woman purred. She leaned closer, stroking the fingers of her other hand down his cheek. "You must regain your strength."

"Yes," James said absently. "Rest." He felt his mind slipping. He allowed Rosetta to lay him back down, his head cradled in her soft palms. His body relaxed. The violent shudders faded with every shallow breath he took. His heart beat dully in his ears, a drumbeat to match the thrum of fear and shock marching across his mindscape.

The last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was the blindingly vivid green of her gaze. The last thing he heard was a soft murmur in his head, like poison creeping through his veins:

"Sleep well, my beautiful victory. Tomorrow we paint the dawn red."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

(Question of the Chapter: What do you think Deyanira's plan for James McKinley is? ;D)

Sorry that this chapter/prologue is so short, but I'll have a longer chapter up next Friday to make up for it! :) Again, a huge thank you to everyone who has read, or is still currently reading, this story. You're all the best readers a writer could hope for! <3