Kellan woke to the sounds of birds chirping, a melody of life that still felt strange to him. It was the kind of morning that would normally bring peace to someone, but to him, it was just another reminder of how far removed he was from anything resembling comfort. The forest was alive, its greenery shimmering in the sunlight as the trees swayed gently with the wind. The warmth of the morning sun bathed the ground in gold, highlighting the massive roots of the tree under which Kellan lay.
He stirred, his body aching slightly from the hard ground, and glanced down at his lap. The egg rested there, its warmth steady against him. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, which was wild and matted from his restless night.
"All this trouble for this goddamned egg," Kellan muttered, the irritation clear in his voice. For a fleeting moment, a thought crossed his mind—to hurl the egg into the distance and watch it shatter, spilling its insides across the forest floor. But the idea dissipated as quickly as it had come. It would be a colossal waste of his effort—not to mention, he'd been told the egg was important. Still, the mystery surrounding it gnawed at him.
He leaned forward, peering at the egg with a mix of curiosity and annoyance. "So... what even are you?" he asked aloud. His voice carried a sarcastic bite, and for a second, he felt ridiculous. Talking to an egg? This was new, even for him. "What am I even doing? You're just an oversized breakfast that somehow got promoted to my responsibility." He chuckled bitterly. "I'm babysitting an egg. I didn't sign up for this."
The egg, of course, didn't respond—not in any conventional sense. But as Kellan leaned back against the tree, something unexpected happened.
The egg began to glow.
At first, it was faint—just a soft shimmer across the shell. But then, in an instant, the light intensified, growing brighter and brighter until it was almost blinding. Kellan cursed under his breath, throwing up an arm to shield his eyes.
"What the—!" he shouted, but his words were cut off as a loud crack filled the air. The glow began to dim, and as Kellan cautiously lowered his arm, he saw it—the shell was splitting. Fissures ran across its surface, and with another sharp crack, a piece broke away. A small, sharp beak poked out, followed by flashes of vibrant red feathers.
Kellan's breath caught. His instincts screamed at him to run. He scrambled backward, putting distance between himself and the egg. "Nope. Nope. I am not dying today," he muttered, eyes wide with alarm. "Not before I make Plenthota my snow globe." The absurdity of his words didn't even register; his panic overrode everything else.
The egg shattered completely, pieces of shell scattering across the ground like shards of porcelain. From within, a creature emerged—a bird unlike anything Kellan had ever seen. Its feathers were a radiant red, glowing faintly as if they held embers within them. Its eyes, bright and molten gold, pierced through him, ancient and unyielding. The bird stood tall and regal, its presence commanding the space around it.
Kellan could do nothing but marvel—and tremble.
You're scared.
The words came not through his ears, but directly into his mind. Kellan froze. He hadn't heard the voice; he had felt it, the way one feels the sun's warmth or the sting of cold air. It resonated within him, undeniable and overwhelming.
"W-who said that?" Kellan stammered, his voice trembling. He glanced around, expecting to see someone—or something—but the forest was empty save for the bird before him.
Why are you looking around? I am speaking to you, the voice said again, calm and steady.
Kellan stared at the bird, his heart pounding. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered, his voice rising slightly in pitch. "Wh-what do you want from me? Who—what—are you?" He was flustered, his thoughts a chaotic mess. He'd seen strange things before, sure, but a telepathic red pigeon? That wasn't exactly on his bucket list.
The bird spread its wings slightly, the movement graceful and deliberate. It began to circle Kellan, its golden eyes never leaving him. There was an intensity to its movements, as though it were studying him, assessing him.
I am Ignisara, the voice said, resonating with a warmth that Kellan could feel in his chest. I represent growth, rebirth, and the fire that fuels all living things. You do not know me, but I know you. I have watched over humanity since the beginning of time.
Kellan blinked, struggling to process the bird's words. "Okay," he said slowly, his voice shaky. "Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought. Or maybe Plenthota—" He stopped mid-sentence, a thought flashing through his mind. "Wait. Are you one of Plenthota's challenges?" His voice carried an edge of bitterness as he remembered the strange, cryptic orb who had once promised to make his life more... complicated.
Ignisara stopped circling him and turned its piercing gaze on Kellan. The weight of its stare was almost too much to bear.
Plenthota is my brother, the bird said, its tone colder now, sharper. He is the Watcher of Timelines, the one who revels in chaos and destruction. He has shattered countless realities, taking pleasure in the ruin of all things. Sometimes, I wonder why Father entrusted him with such power.
Kellan's jaw tightened. The mention of Plenthota brought a wave of anger bubbling to the surface. That thing—if he could even be called that—had meddled in his life more than once, throwing him into impossible situations just for the fun of it.
Ignisara's voice softened slightly. My goal has always been to stop him. To restore what he has broken. But I cannot do it alone. The bird's golden eyes locked onto Kellan's. You, human—you seem like the perfect vassal to assist me. He has shown himself to you, hasn't he? You hate him, don't you?
Kellan clenched his fists, the memories of Plenthota's cryptic words and smug grin flashing through his mind. He did hate him. More than he wanted to admit. But was he ready to go up against someone—something—like Plenthota? And with a telepathic phoenix as his partner?
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He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. "What... what do you need me to do?"
Ignisara's feathers seemed to shimmer, the light of its inner fire growing brighter. I need you to grow, Kellan, the phoenix said simply. On my own, I am nothing. My power cannot manifest in this plane unless I am bonded with a vassal. Through you, I can thrive—and you will grow as well. Together, we can stand against Plenthota.
Kellan exhaled, running a hand down his face. "Great. No pressure then," he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Do not fear, Kellan, Ignisara said, its voice quieter but no less commanding. This is only the beginning.
Kellan sighed. "Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of."
The phoenix chuckled—a sound Kellan could feel rather than hear—and the two set off into the forest, the weight of their shared purpose hanging heavy in the air.
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The forest stretched endlessly around Kellan as he trudged forward, the soft crunch of twigs and leaves underfoot marking his passage. Ignisara perched on his shoulder, its smaller form glowing faintly with an ember-like light. Despite the surreal weight of everything he had just learned, Kellan couldn't help but fixate on one nagging question.
"This doesn't make sense," he muttered, brushing a low-hanging branch out of his way.
What doesn't? Ignisara's voice resonated in his mind, calm and patient as always.
Kellan hesitated, his words fumbling for clarity. "The artifacts I've heard about—the ones from my old world—they don't exist here. I thought I'd find the Blade of Eternity, but instead, I found you. Why is this timeline so... different?"
Ignisara's golden gaze flickered, the glow of its flames dimming slightly as it processed his question. Because this timeline is not your own. Each world that my brother has touched is unique, shaped by the decisions and paths of those who live within it. The artifacts of your world, Kellan, were products of its history, its people, and its lack of magic. Here, those same conditions never existed. This timeline grew apart from yours. It created me instead of the Blade of Eternity.
Kellan frowned, processing the weight of Ignisara's words. "So, you're saying magic wasn't a thing in my old world?"
Precisely. Ignisara's tone softened, as though it understood the dissonance Kellan felt. Your old timeline was one without magic. It lacked the threads that connect people to the flow of the universe, the energy that weaves growth, destruction, and life itself. It was... sterile, in a way. That is why, even now, you cannot access magic on your own. It is foreign to your very being.
Kellan's frustration boiled over, his steps halting abruptly as he spun to face Ignisara. "Then why the hell am I here? If I don't belong in this world, if I can't even use the magic that seems so crucial, then why didn't Plenthota just finish the job and erase me like the rest of my old timeline?"
Ignisara's flames flared slightly, though its voice remained calm. Because you are an anomaly, Kellan. A fragment of a timeline that should no longer exist. You survived when you shouldn't have, carrying the essence of a world erased by Plenthota's hand. That alone makes you dangerous to him. It proves that his actions are not absolute. That his vision of perfection is flawed.
Kellan exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Great. So, I'm a walking cosmic glitch, hunted by a timeline-pruning psychopath. This just keeps getting better."
You are more than that, Ignisara said firmly. You are proof that even in destruction, there is potential for growth. And with my help, you can tap into the magic of this world, even if it was never meant for you.
Kellan glanced at the phoenix skeptically. "How? You just said I'm not built for magic. What's going to change that now?"
Ignisara shifted slightly on his shoulder, its golden eyes glowing brighter. Your soul remembers your old world, but it is not bound by it. Through me, you can adapt. I can guide your essence, bridging the gap between the life you've known and the magic of this timeline. It will take time and effort, but I can help you manifest the potential that lies dormant within you.
Kellan snorted, resuming his walk. "So, what? You're my cosmic tutor now? Going to give me lessons in how to be a magical anomaly?"
In a manner of speaking, yes. Ignisara's tone held a hint of amusement. But this is no simple lesson, Kellan. It is a transformation. Growth is not easy. It is painful, messy, and often slow. But it is also necessary. You must be willing to let go of the limits your old world placed on you if you are to thrive here.
As Kellan considered Ignisara's words, the forest began to thin, revealing the faint outline of a small village in the distance. He could almost make out the rooftops of homes and the faint trails of smoke from chimneys, a sign that he was finally nearing civilization again.
He glanced at Ignisara. "So, the Blade of Eternity... was it even real in my old world, or was it just a myth?"
Ignisara's feathers shimmered, the golden embers rippling like heatwaves. In your world, it was a myth, a story created by those who sought meaning in a world without magic. Here, it exists, though not as a sword. The Blade of Eternity is a concept, a manifestation of enduring power and growth. I am that manifestation in this timeline. Where your world imagined a weapon, this world birthed me—a being of fire, life, and renewal.
Kellan raised a brow. "So... you're a phoenix with an existential upgrade?"
Not just a phoenix, Kellan. A creation of the Architect—the origin of all timelines. My siblings and I were made by him to embody essential forces of existence. I represent growth and renewal, while Plenthota governs time. But unlike my brother, who believes in pruning imperfection, the Architect intended for us to preserve balance and foster change.
Kellan's pace slowed as he processed this. "The Architect... so he's like some all-powerful creator?"
Yes, but he does not intervene in mortal affairs. He observes, creates, and lets the timelines evolve naturally. Plenthota was meant to safeguard this process, to ensure timelines didn't spiral into chaos. But over time, he became consumed by his purpose, seeing flaws where there was beauty, disorder where there was growth.
Kellan shook his head, frustration evident in his voice. "So, instead of protecting timelines, he's destroying them? And no one thought to stop him?"
That is why I was created, Kellan, Ignisara said, its voice growing solemn. I was born to be a counterbalance to Plenthota. But my power is not mine alone to wield. I need a vassal, someone who can channel my strength and challenge him. That someone is you.
Kellan groaned. "Of course it's me. Because why not add saving the universe to my list of problems?"
Ignisara chuckled softly. You are more than a man displaced from his timeline, Kellan. You are proof that even when something is broken, it can grow stronger in the repair. Together, we can stand against Plenthota. But first, you must be willing to grow.
The faint outline of the village grew clearer as they approached, the warmth of civilization tugging at Kellan's weary body. He adjusted his bag and quickened his pace, eager for rest but aware that his journey was far from over.
As they reached the outskirts, Ignisara shifted again, its form glowing briefly before condensing further. It shrank into a small ember-like bird, its flames barely noticeable in the daylight. It hopped lightly onto Kellan's shoulder, its weight almost imperceptible.
This form will suffice for now, it said, its voice laced with quiet humor. Size, after all, is no measure of strength.
Kellan couldn't help but smirk, despite the storm of emotions swirling within him. "A fiery sparrow, huh? Yeah, that's definitely subtle."
Ignisara chuckled softly. Shall we, then?
Kellan nodded, stepping into the village with the faint glow of Ignisara's flames casting a quiet warmth against his cheek. Whatever lay ahead, he knew one thing for certain: he wasn't walking this path alone anymore.