In the 5th month of the Imperial Year 2521, far across the ocean, in Lustria, the First City, Itza.
The ancient Slann Mage-Priest Lord Kroak sat upon his golden throne, exhaling softly. His eyes were closed, but the sound of hurried footsteps outside disrupted his meditation.
A Skink Priest rushed in, even pushing aside the Temple Guards who tried to stop him at the entrance. The guards and an ancient Saurus Warrior were furious, gesturing for him to leave: "You do not belong here!"
"I have urgent news for the Great Lord!"
"The Great Lord is in meditation!"
"I must speak to him immediately..."
"Let him in," Kroak's voice echoed from within the hall. The guards immediately stepped aside and bowed their heads.
"Great One, the situation is dire! One of the Great Vortex's three nodes has collapsed!" The Skink Priest hurried to Kroak's presence and bowed. "Our ancient enemy has unleashed dozens of daemonic legions upon the mortal world. The seal at Zha'ha'tek has been broken, and countless daemons are pouring out from the ruins. Their leader is a Daemon Prince who calls himself 'Seeker of Truth' and 'Hand of Fate,' Erebus."
"I am aware," Lord Kroak responded slowly. Since being resurrected by the young Old One, Kroak had done his best to change the course of events. But as the Great Vortex continued to weaken and collapse, the Great One had come to realize that some things were inevitable. "The forces of darkness have descended, and our ancient enemy approaches."
"The Twin-Tailed Comet has appeared. This is the power of Sotek," the ancient Saurus Warrior said.
In the colorful sky above, a twin-tailed comet streaked across the heavens, moving at an agonizingly slow pace.
"Does the forked tail of Sotek signify hope... or destruction, my lord?" the Skink Priest asked Kroak, bowing deeply.
"All is part of the Great Plan," Kroak murmured, his massive body shifting beneath the shade of the giant lotus leaf. "Send word to War-Leader Kroq-Gar and the Son of the Old Ones, Fulgrim. They must form a united front and ensure that our ancient enemy is contained within Zha'ha'tek."
"Yes!"
With that, Kroak sent out a mental command to Hexoatl, the City of the Sun, followed by dozens, then hundreds of messages, spreading to all the temple-cities of the Lizardmen.
Hundreds of Slann Mage-Priests awoke from their slumber. Together, they raised their hands.
In the Warp, amidst the raging currents of Chaos, dozens of bright points of order appeared. They connected, forming a radiant star map.
"Strengthen the Great Vortex!"
"The Great Plan has failed! Begin preparations for the Great Evacuation Plan!"
The scarred world breathed a momentary sigh of relief as the Slann acted.
In the Empire, beneath the city of Averheim, the River Aver roared, turning into a river of blood. As thousands of Khornate daemons slaughtered their way through a dozen villages along the riverbanks and laid siege to Averheim, Elector Count Marius Leitdorf gathered all the elite forces of Averland to prepare for a desperate defense. But just as the daemonic legions were about to attack, a gentle breeze swept through, and the daemons vanished without a trace.
Beneath Karak Eight Peaks, High King Thorgrim Grudgebearer and King Belegar Ironhammer formed a shield wall with their combined forces, fighting against the sudden onslaught of Chaos daemons. The human forces of the Badlands were the first to be routed, but just as the Dwarven statues were activated and entered the battlefield, the blood-red storm clouds parted, and the daemons disappeared.
In Middenland, the Plaguelord Epidemius retreated into the forests, frustrated. He had nearly succeeded in poisoning Middenheim's water supply, spreading the Hand, Foot, and Mouth disease to every citizen of the White Wolf City. But as the Winds of Chaos suddenly weakened, he lost the strength to resist the Witch Hunters and was forced to bide his time.
Tilea had been plagued by terrible diseases and mysterious disappearances for some time. At night, strange fragrances stole the souls of thousands, trapping them within Slaanesh's silken throne until the Dark Prince grew bored.
Bretonnia, however, seemed to be the only nation that had not suffered significant losses. The Sun King Ryan and his five children stood amidst the corpses of countless Nurgle and Slaaneshi daemons. The Sword of Vengeance drank deeply of daemonic blood, and psychic flames purged the Warp's corruption. The chaos in Guisoreaux had been quelled.
In the south of the kingdom, Chaos daemons were forced to bow before the might of Angron and the Emperor's Custodians. The Primarch of the World Eaters instructed his nephew in the art of combat while seated on the split skull of the Khornate Greater Daemon, Karakath. The Dwarven artifact battle axes, Cleaver and Ripper, were embedded in the daemon's skull, while another weapon had shattered a Khornate chariot. Two Khornate Flesh Hounds were beheaded on the spot.
Angron coldly watched the Khornate legions, recognizing some familiar faces. The Primarch of the World Eaters knew that these were no ordinary foes.
Something had infiltrated their ranks.
But in the next moment, the Khornate daemons vanished, along with their corpses. However, the Emperor's Custodians and Angron were not surprised. Instead, they prepared themselves for the daemons' inevitable return.
The world wailed, and the skies burned.
Of course, one place bore the brunt of the assault.
The homeland of the High Elves, the location of the Great Vortex, Ulthuan.
Phoenix King Finubar strolled through the gardens of his Phoenix Court.
The Duck had never felt so powerless.
The Great Vortex was in turmoil. Even though the White Tower mages had thrown all their resources into stabilizing it, they could not prevent the emergence of Chaos daemons.
Chrace was under siege! Eataine was under siege!
Tides of Chaos daemons emerged from the mortal world, destroying manors and slaughtering elves.
This was the time when the Phoenix King was needed most, but Finubar found, to his dismay, that his most trusted allies, the twins Tyrion and Teclis, were absent. Prince Eltharion of Yvresse was absent. The heroes of the High Elves, the generals who could hold the line, were all gone from Ulthuan!
If it were any other Phoenix King, they might have chosen to take up arms themselves. But Finubar was wise and intelligent. He knew that, for now, the best and most appropriate course of action was to stay safely within the Phoenix Court and wait for Tyrion, Teclis, and the other High Elf heroes to return.
Indescribable pain and anxiety filled Finubar's chest. The Phoenix King could neither rest nor think clearly. He could only pace helplessly within the court.
What pained Finubar even more was the constant whispering of Asuryan, the Phoenix God, in his ears.
""
""
""
""
Finubar could not understand what Asuryan was saying, but the endless curses and extreme indifference in the Phoenix God's cold, detached tone resonated deeply with him.
This was the curse of the Phoenix King's throne. Now, with the Great Vortex destabilized, some phrases became clearer.
Ulthuan was eternally spring, but Finubar felt only cold, so cold. The Phoenix King draped an extra robe over himself, but it did little to help.
Now, he wandered the gardens, enjoying the reflections of starlight on the Phoenix Court's fountain. The Phoenix King looked up at the square patch of sky visible through the window and wanted to roar, to expel all the bitterness, anxiety, and Asuryan's whispers from his body.
To be a Phoenix King like this... truly...
Yet Finubar also knew that if it weren't for the twins, he would have died hundreds of times over. If it weren't for the twins, he could never have sat safely on the throne for two to three hundred years.
This terrible contradiction filled Finubar with despair and fury.
Once, Finubar had crossed mountains and seas, traversed crowds of people, and sailed the azure oceans at will. Back then, the Phoenix King had been bold, confident, full of ideals and passion, and ambitious, carving out his own "Azure Route" across the world.
Many said that in old age, people lived by their memories.
The Phoenix King was lost in thought when the ornate fountain before him suddenly rippled. Finubar instinctively looked into the fountain's waters, and his pupils contracted to pinpricks!
A golden-masked elf with sapphire-blue eyes was emerging from the fountain. Finubar instinctively reached for his weapon, but the Phoenix King, long out of practice, had barely grasped the hilt of his sword when a black-haired, gaunt, and tall elf appeared behind him. The elf glowed faintly, like a specter: "Sailor, do you still remember how to hold a sword, how to use it?"
"Of course!" Finubar drew his sword and swung it a few times, but it passed through the ghostly figure.
The Sailor was frustrated, for he realized his swordsmanship was truly lacking, especially under the mocking gaze of his opponent, who looked at him like a monkey waving a stick.
"Go on, keep going," the black-haired elf's voice was playful and cruel as he gestured for Finubar to continue.
Finubar began to retreat. Sweat poured down the Phoenix King's forehead as he backed away, his hair soaked: "Impossible, absolutely impossible! The magical wards of the Phoenix Court are the work of the White Tower mages, and they haven't been breached by external forces. How did you get in?!"
"Guess, you Asur are so good at guessing, aren't you?" the black-haired elf laughed. "Guess hard, just like you guess Asuryan's will. Every Phoenix King... except my father, has been chosen by guessing, hasn't he?"
Finubar backed into a cabinet, his frail body causing it to shake. The glass bottles on top rattled, and the Phoenix King quickly glanced toward the entrance of the court. The Phoenix Guards and White Lions who should have been there were nowhere to be seen!
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"Why stop guessing?" The black-haired elf, or rather, the Witch King Malekith, sneered. "Indeed, the protective wards of the Phoenix Court have troubled me and my mother for a long time. Whether it was my mother's Coven of Hekarti, or Har Ganeth, Hellebron's Khainite Assassins, or even my former first champion, 'Venomblade' Urian, none could break the wards of the Phoenix Court. Fortunately, a dear friend of yours provided me with a little help."
Finubar's eyes widened: "Teclis!"
"Everyone... even my advisors say that Sailor-King Finubar is a wise and intelligent Phoenix King. Indeed, they are right!" Malekith gave full approval, almost giving a thumbs-up. "You are indeed good at guessing, Finubar. No wonder they chose you as king. They say the most important quality of a Phoenix King is guessing—guessing the nobles' hints, guessing the princes' schemes, guessing the daily infighting within the Phoenix Court."
Malekith laughed maniacally, clapping his hands. "The Master of Riddles, the Riddler of Lothern, Finubar! Asuryan's chosen! With countless fire-warding charms, fire-warding artifacts, and fire-warding secrets, yet another 'legitimate' Phoenix King!"
Finubar's face turned red with anger. The Phoenix King clenched his fists and struck back: "They say there was a fool who knew nothing, who eagerly walked into Asuryan's sacred flames. Let's guess, who was that?"
The black-haired elf's smile twisted into a grimace. Finubar's words pierced his armor, but remembering what Teclis had told him about the "truth," Malekith quickly shrugged it off. "It doesn't matter. Now you see, a new War of the Heavens is about to begin. The elves need a hero. Asuryan needs a true descendant of Aenarion to become the Phoenix King and save the elves."
"That will be Tyrion! Malekith, you will never succeed!" Finubar dropped his sword and roared. "I would rather give the throne to..."
"The throne was never yours to begin with. Mortals are always like this—once they get something, they think it's theirs." Malekith suddenly became cold. "Tyrion? A weakling, a lapdog of the Everqueen. He never inherited the true blood of Aenarion. He only inherited the curse of Khaine. Oh, and his precious daughter~"
"That's my daughter!" Finubar opened his mouth, wiping sweat from his forehead as he struggled to explain.
"Your daughter? Wow! That's so impressive!" Malekith was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter. "I wonder what Tyrion fed you to make you willingly admit that Alarielle is your daughter? Do you really not care?"
"Of course, I don't care, as long as it's for the future of the Asur," Finubar gritted his teeth, veins bulging on his forehead.
"If you truly cared about the future of the Asur, why were you so calm when Alarielle was in danger? Why didn't you abdicate to Tyrion earlier, so he and his daughter could rule legitimately?" Malekith watched Finubar's pained expression and continued to mock. "Instead, when you saw that half the White Tower was Tyrion's close friends, and that most of the princes were either his lovers or allies, you worked so hard to get along with Imrik, didn't you? Because only Imrik could stand against that upstart."
Finubar was speechless. His hands clenched into fists, jealousy and envy gnawing at his heart and soul.
"They say the Everqueen Alarielle is a great beauty. When your good brother Tyrion spends the night with your lawful wife, the Everqueen Alarielle, what are you doing?" Malekith said. "Oh! I remember now! He prepared substitutes for you, those High Elf beauties! So he could enjoy his love affair with your wife!"
"The marriage between the Phoenix King and the Everqueen is purely nominal... a marriage of convenience, a symbol of... Asur... co-rule."
"Oh? Really? I don't believe it," Malekith feigned surprise.
Finubar could no longer respond. The Phoenix King swore this was the most humiliating moment of his life. Everything about him seemed laid bare before his cousin and nemesis, the Witch King Malekith.
Did he truly not care?
How could he!
But he quickly counterattacked. The Phoenix King took a deep breath, his expression shifting from humiliation to disdain. He swung a hand at Malekith's face, but it passed through empty air. "Hah, so what? Malekith, the despicable Witch King, this is my ward, my domain, my court. What can you do? You're just a shadow, you can't hurt me. I know, I know it all. Chaos daemons have appeared across Ulthuan. My people need me, my kingdom needs me, the elven gods need me. I am the Phoenix King!"
"Unfortunately, according to Teclis, I am the one chosen by Asuryan, not you, Finubar. Never you," Malekith indeed could not harm Finubar. The Witch King regained his cruel demeanor. "Though I do not fully believe his words, the prophecies, the celestial signs, the Crone Morai-Heg, and even Lilith's prophecies are all evidence. I think it's worth a try. But it doesn't matter. Once Teclis outlives his usefulness, or if I find the prophecies to be false, I will not hesitate to eliminate him. Sadly, you won't live to see it."
Malekith inscribed several Chaos runes, and soon a portal opened. A Khornate Bloodletter emerged from the portal. Finubar, in a panic, instinctively reached for his sword, but the Bloodletter was too fast. The Phoenix King, long out of practice, was quickly wounded by the daemon's blade and claws, his throat slit, blood gushing.
Blood dyed the fountain's waters red.
In his final moments, Finubar mustered all his strength. He thrust his sword into the Bloodletter's forehead, piercing through the Chaos star symbol.
The Sailor was not entirely helpless!
The Bloodletter disintegrated into ash, but Finubar was mortally wounded. The Phoenix King clutched his throat, shouting at the smirking Malekith: "You will never win the hearts of the Asur! You will never... cough... become the Phoenix King! You will never rule Ulthuan! All you will... gain... is a curse."
"That is your curse, not mine," Malekith watched the dying Finubar. Memories of the second Phoenix King, his dear friend Bel-Korhadris, lying in a pool of blood, flashed before his eyes. His voice faltered for a moment, revealing a hint of emotion. He muttered, almost inaudibly, "I am sorry, Finubar. Everything was wrong from the start. You did not learn my father's courage, only his deceit. And I did not learn his perseverance, only his stubbornness."
With that, the Witch King's figure vanished from the Phoenix Court.
Only Finubar remained in the garden, along with his fading heartbeat.
Finubar gasped for breath. The Phoenix King suddenly felt at ease. He stopped struggling and allowed his body to grow numb.
This... was for the best.
"" Asuryan's whispers returned.
"Shut up! You damn god! Take your curses and your babbling to hell!"
Finubar uttered his final words.
Then, all fell silent.
Only the faintly red-stained fountain and the gentle sound of water remained.
The Sailor-King Finubar had perished.
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