This chapter has been edited as of 10/1/14


Prologue

A bird, settled on a perch, meticulously preened their golden plumage, unsatisfied until each feather was tucked away into the pattern, ends curling like tongues of fire. A few loose feathers floated down to the table, one landing on an old tome.

Blue flashed from the other side of the room, but the majestic bird continued preening. There was a shout, and the feather was snatched from the tome. The tome was also snatched up, and a white glow washed over the cover.

"You know how valuable this tome is, Fyre," the bird's bonded berated. "This is perhaps one of four in known existence; I won't have a stray phoenix feather turn it to ash!"

The phoenix simply let out a string of chirps before hopping on his head and tugging a brown lock of hair. The mage sighed. Fyre trilled in mirth.

"Sorry, but I can't go on an 'epic adventure' with you right now," he said. "My apprentice has gotten himself caught in the expelled gas of a poisonous plant, and there are no healers in the area."

He plucked a vial off the desk and placed the phoenix back on its perch. He chantede an low incantation, and the air in front of him ripped open. He physically stretched it wider with his hands, revealing a dense rainforest. Snores like the honks of a dying elephant could be heard. He stepped through, the portal closing behind him.

The phoenix huffed in indignation, ruffling their feathers.

They burst into flames, very nearly setting the ancient book on fire. The fire died, the perch unharmed. On top of a bookcase, fire flared to life, a phoenix with it. They made grumpy noises, and resumed preening the soot from their feathers. Their master always forgot a phoenix could travel magically.

Bored, Fyre vanished in a puff of fire, appearing elsewhere with equal magnificence. The setting was similar, although with slight differences. The office had a lighter feel to it, and more tiny whizzing contraptions, but no runes or ingredients cluttered the desk and shelves. Muttering caught the phoenix's attention, and they glanced upward to see the walls lined with portraits, the inhabitants chatting between frames, reading, or sleeping. They squawked, and more than a few paintings jumped up and peered curiously at this foreign bird.

Another chirp followed a flare of fire. Fyre craned their neck toward the sound on the other side of the desk. Another elegant phoenix, the feathers curling in a different style, chirped at Fyre. The head looked more kind, mess intimidating. The claws were less noticeable, not like Fyre's, which dug into the side of the desk. They were the same type of magical bird, but the differences spoke of how differently time had affected them.

They trilled songs to fill the silence; the new phoenix sounding like a warm hug and chocolate milk, Fyre sounding like crystal chimes and the rumble of a volcano.

It was a conversation between two magical creatures, one none but the bonded and another of magic could translate. It ended with a squawk from Fyre, and they looked sly while the other phoenix was disgruntled, but vanished anyway.

Fyre didn't waste time admiring the room. Instead, they vanished in a display of fire.

-And reappeared in a modern Japanese-style house. A black cat napped in the corner, stirring at a trill of notes from Fyre.

"Fyre? What're you doing here?" the cat asked, in a masculine voice unexpected of her gender.

Fyre chirped away, telling her part of their plan. Once they finished, the cat shook her head.

"Sorry, no can do. We're on the brink of war here, can't afford to delay any preparations."

Fyre chirped an acceptance and polite apology while the cat licked her paws. The door slid open, and a pair of clogs walked in.

"Ah, Fyre. What brings you here?"

Fyre trilled and flew atop the man's head, pecking at one of the white stripes on his green hat.

"Fyre wanted us to send a few fighters to a school to train them in a different art, but we can't spare any with war on the horizon," the cat translated.

The man smiled and cooed at the phoenix. "So the phoenix is bored? I suppose you would be, being older than me. I've still got a ways to go before I run out of personal experiments. Perhaps we'll take up your offer after winter."

He laughed at his own joke and walked over to pick up the cat, his clogs clacking on the floorboards. Fyre flared in flames and disappeared, leaving the man to worry if his hat was burnt.

Fyre appeared in yet another setting. They spent a total of three seconds staring at the fanged sparkling pixie before vanishing yet again.

Their next appearance took place at an odd location. Clouds floated all along and the barren ground covered in gravestones stretched endlessly, even if they knew it was inside. A single, tall mirror stood in the center of a giant stone dias.

Fyre trilled a greeting and settled on an outstretched arm, their claws stabbing holds into the black fabric.

"Hello, Fyre. I apologize if you wanted to speak with Father. He's not here at the time, as you can see."

Fyre trilled, a happy note.

A chuckle. "Well then, if I'll do. What is the message?"

Fyre chirped its plan.

"Witchcraft?"

A hurried string of chirps.

"So it's different, then. Of course. I just need to tell my father and we'll be off. It's been a while since I've cast a spell. I wonder how much the 'wizard' world has changed."


I don't own any but Fyre in this chapter.

There aren't many hints to who anyone is, but oh well, that's fine. Fyre started in the World of Warcraft world. It went to Hogwarts, then to the Bleach world, as you might have realized from the talking cat and Mr Hat 'n' Clogs. Next was Twilight (fanged sparkly thing), then at last to the object of our story: Soul Eater.

Fyre is genderless. Thus, the singular 'they'. I dislike writing females too much, but I feel like I'm betraying my gender that way, and thus, genderless.