Author's note: This should be the last big info dump chapter, I'll start using all those nice lil' flags I planted before in the next one. (You think you caught them all?).

Thank you for staying with me so far, and have a nice read ^.^

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I really don’t get why humans need to bury themselves in technology.  Can’t they do anything by themselves? …Dammit, where is the remote control? I’m going to miss the show!

Uriel King waiting for an episode of his favorite TV show

The first to come back to a very sparkly home was Kate. I hugged her, planting a kiss on top of her head.

“What got you riled up sis? I know that face and cleaning spree.”

“nothing all that important, boring adult stuff.”

“I’m not a kid anymore you know!”

“Twelve years old is a kid. I think the pixies are more or less settled now, can you take a look in the garden, check if all is ok?”

The good ol’ lure of fluffy stuff never loses its appeal.

“And don’t forget to do your homework. In fact, why don’t you use the garden table? I’ll bring you drinks.”

“Love you sis!”

I watched my younger sibling skip to the backyard with a silly smile on my face.

Mom and Uriel came back about an hour later, almost at the same time. Mom looked tired, but satisfied. The pub had been doing well this summer and autumn with the amount of tourists and students increasing. They might need to hire help soon.

“Urgh, that smell is still there…”

“I know right? I talked with the neighbors and they swore they had no garbage left. It must be a problem with the sewers.”

“I hope the city will take care of it soon. Good thing it’s only in front of the house and not in the backyard. I’m all sweaty, I’ll go take a shower, talk to you after”

Uriel was carrying quite a large amount of bags including some boxes from a well-known game store.

“Did you decide to rob a mall?”

“Funny girl, help me take care of those instead of mocking me. You should be happy, I bought my own cellphone and laptop, though I’ll need you to hook me up with that internet and wee-something thingy they were talking about”

“That would be Wi-Fi I think.”

“Oh leave that bag downstairs, it’s for your sister. They told me it was the best fighting game of the moment.”

It took until dinner to set up everything, Uriel being more hindrance than help. I ended up setting up fast links to computer help forums, just to have some peace from the relentless questioning.

Dinner went smoothly, followed by a lively virtual fighting match between Uriel and Kate. He was getting beat up, but showed considerable improvement over time.

I took the opportunity to take mom apart and relate the visit of Richard Martin. The garden was lovely at this hour, with the lilac scent hanging heavy in the air and the new addition of the pixie portal producing fluttering green sparks snaking along the trunk.

“Why would they come now, after all these years…?”

Mom had a pensive expression, her hand supporting her chin over her mug of tea.

“I think you guessed I ran away from home when I was young, for many reasons, some good, and some very stupid. If they come again, stay very polite, but don’t accept to go anywhere with them. They can be quite overbearing and I don’t know if they would let you go afterwards. I’ll talk with Katarina if they come again. She might want to meet them, though I’ll refuse if I can’t be present.”

I nodded, sipping my own tea. Behind us the yells of the two kids, both the real and the overgrown one, provided a counterpoint to the sounds of the game.

The next morning was overcast with a warm south wind raising the temperature. The imp had a bit of dark circles under her eyes since we let her play a bit later than usual. Those tend to show a lot on her skin tone.

“Make sure to ask when the parent-teacher conference will be, imp. Call if you need a ride home, it might rain this evening.”

“Ok! Have a good day sis.”

Mom had gone early to the pub again, leaving only Uriel and me. I would raise the issue of getting more help or going back there myself if this continued. The pub was as important to me as it was to her, but still was not worth her health.

It had been owned by my stepfather, Dale. He met mom when she applied as a waitress there to keep us fed. It still took him three years of courting mom before she married him. When he died, the pub was left to both mom and his brother Charles.

My father clapped his hands, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Today we’ll assess your innate power, what you got from our phoenix bloodline, not your dream-walking ability.”

“Isn’t the dream-walking coming from the bloodline too?”

“No, this is one of your personal abilities. All phoenixes share the capacity to wield flame, to shapeshift to a degree, and to heal since we’re sources tied to life.

Then you have personal skillsets differing with each individual, though they can influence offspring’s abilities. My own skillset tends to be oriented towards mind powers and regeneration, which you partly inherited.

So, what do you think is the most important factor to a phoenix power?”

I reflected on this for a while. Raw power was important, but useless is you couldn’t use it correctly, so it was obviously not the right answer. Keeping an open mind to learn new things? Maybe. Or maybe knowing how to use power thriftily?

“I’ll go with keeping an open mind.”

“Hmmm, not a bad answer per se, but not the right one either. The answer is imagination, and how to harness it for your own benefit.

Most of the limitations you will encounter are ones set by your own mind. It might be clichéd, but you won’t fly if you can’t imagine yourself flying.

Another example is shapeshifting. If you can’t hold the form you want to become in your mind, down to the tiniest details both of appearance and inner workings, it can easily be a disaster. Shifting in a form without a heart will kill you pretty quickly if you don’t revert it. If you’re unsure of yourself, better stick to a lower number of possibilities but do them well.”

“No shapeshifting for me at the moment then I guess?”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“We’ll start with easy stuff; I want to see your fire today. Sing fire to life for me. Don’t worry, I’ll contain it.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Nope. Singing is in our blood, it helps us focus the power to bend it to our will. I’ve been in your head; I’ve seen the music coursing through your soul.”

“How am I supposed to sing, without a voice?”

“Didn’t you do it once already?”

I pondered. It had been my rage that called the flame that time, but I couldn’t hope to control it if only anger could call it. Only a moron would play with fire in anger. Did I truly hear the screeching, or was it all in my mind?

If it was in my mind, maybe I didn’t have to sing aloud? If so, what could be a good song for fire? What was fire to me?

Immerged in myself, I started with a beat like a heartbeat. Fire was destructive, but it also gave warmth and life. If fire is life, is it why we can control it?

Around and under it I weaved the foundation of my fire, the slow crackling of the logs, the lighter scent of burning wood, steady reddish notes to feed the faster ones.

As I called them, scarlet strands of notes came unbidden, snaking around the beat, flames dancing in a fire both seen and heard.

I lost myself in the beauty of my fire, increasing the tempo of my mental heartbeat.

“You can open your eyes now, but keep your song going.”

I flinched, recalling where I was and what I had been trying to do. I almost lost the tempo, as I couldn’t remember closing my eyes either, and yet, closed they were.

In my father’s hand were a big globe of silver fire enclosing a medium sized scarlet flame, dancing on the rhythm of the beat I had set, reflected in the beady eyes of the multicolored mice lining the lower branches of the lilac tree.

“This is my flame?”

“No, no, it just decided to spontaneously pop into existence. Of course it’s your flame you ninny, and a pretty one it is. I wasn’t sure you would be able to make it, since very few manage the trick of singing inside, but you pulled it beautifully.

Not vocalizing your song is both a strength and a weakness. A strength because your adversaries will have no idea what you will pull or when, and you will not be limited by vocal chords, and a weakness because it is easier to be interrupted and lose control when the song is only in your head.”

“It is hard to keep focused on the song without losing my bearings.”

“Which is why we will continue until you can call a flame faster while keeping your eyes open. Right now a rheumatic snail would have time to escape while you sing fire.”

And continue we did, for hours, with Uriel sending pebbles my way at irregular intervals to make me lose my focus.

We only stopped when I started making more mistakes due to the mental fatigue.

“Good enough for today. We’ll do this again every day until I’m satisfied with your control. I want you as stable as possible before your first molt.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“What is the common element in all the phoenix legends you know?”

“They are immortal beasts who combust to be reborn in their own…oh crap, I’ll burn to death? Tell me I’m not going to spontaneously combust?”

“I can if that’s what you want to hear, though that would be a big fat lie. Usually in a regular growth, a hatchling would awaken his power about fifteen years after birth, then molt ten to twenty years after. In your case, you subconsciously repressed your own power to fit in the human mold, to release everything at once, like a dam bursting.

That means you’re at your most vulnerable now, since you can and will die during your molt if you lose control, and I have no idea when it will happen.

On the bright side, the fire will temper your body and spirit, making you more powerful each time you go through the crucible, and the older you will be, the bigger the time span between molts.”

“This is scary, is there no way to avoid it?”

Now I had a good idea about what my next set of nightmares would be. I could have done without the mental image.

“None that I found, and I researched it for a long time. You won’t have to go through the fire alone though, I’ll be there to help.”

“Let’s eat a snack, then we’ll start on your physical assessment.”

A couple hours later, I was panting heavily in the middle of the garden, with my father looking at me mockingly a few meters away from my position. The damn smug bird was as pristine as if he had just been taking a stroll.

He had given me a twig, and asked me to touch him between the ribs.

I had started by trying to stab with the twig, confident in my speed and aim, only to have him evade me by the tiniest margin each time with a smirk.

I had tried feints, throwing rocks, sending dirt in his eyes, low kicks, driving him in the garden chairs, and about anything I could think of without any success.

“Looking at you, seems like we’re done.”

“Could you be a little less smug about handing me my own ass on a platter?”

“And where would be the fun in that? Besides it should give you incentive to better yourself!”

“Did I mention I hated you today?”

“You did when I ate the last pancake.

On more serious matters, now I know what we’ll be working on. On the more mystical abilities, so far you have regeneration, though on a lesser degree than mine, dream-walking, an exceptional fire manipulation, that’s my daughter for you, and empathy with maybe a smidge of telepathy mixed with it, though it’s too early to be sure.

On the more physical stuff, your speed, flexibility and coordination are very good and you use your brain. For the bad parts, your stamina is lacking, and your strength is pathetic, both will need lots of work.”

“Sooo…training and more training I suppose?”

“Yup, won’t do you any good to be able to regenerate once your brain is all over the floor or you get decapitated. At least you didn’t learn useless pretty moves, so we won’t need to make you un-learn anything.”

“Won’t the neighbors wonder what happens if we do this every day?”

“Come help me with that infernet thing after you wash yourself, I’ll rent something nearby. I think an empty warehouse would be good.”

“Anything to survive burning alive I guess. And it's internet, not infernet"

“Could have fooled me.”