Stevie's Arc

Chapter 1 of 7

The gods promised immortality to anyone who could win their contests, and Stevie wanted it for her whole family. She stood in the town square and read the herald's posted rules. Each entrant needed a trained companion. Her companion was a baby phoenix, and it obeyed nothing. The little firebird sat on her shoulder and pecked at her hair. Stevie held out a strip of dried meat. "Down," she whispered. "Please. Just fly down." The phoenix chirped and flew the wrong way, straight into a fruit cart. Apples rolled everywhere. People stared. Stevie's face went hot, and she wanted to shrink into the ground. She chased the phoenix under a bench. Tears stung her eyes. Without a trained companion, she could not enter. Without entering, she could not win. Her family would grow old and die like everyone else. "That is a stubborn one." A woman crouched beside her. She wore a green tunic and carried a hunting bow. A silver moon hung at her collar. Stevie recognized her from the temple carvings. Artemis, goddess of the wild hunt. Stevie's throat closed. She could barely speak to shopkeepers, let alone a goddess. Behind Artemis came a satyr with curling horns and a flute at his belt. Flowers ringed his neck. He grinned wide. "A phoenix," he said. "Those don't take orders. They take invitations." This was Pan, god of wild things and music. "I can't make it listen," Stevie said. Her voice shook. "The contest needs a trained companion. I've tried everything." Artemis held out one steady hand. She made no command. She simply waited, calm as still water. The phoenix crept from under the bench. It hopped closer, watching her. "Wild creatures don't follow force," Artemis said. "They follow trust. Sit. Breathe. Let it come to you." Pan raised his flute and played three soft notes. The phoenix froze, then bobbed its head to the tune. "Music first," Pan said. "Then the bird thinks the lesson is a game." Stevie sat in the dirt and copied Artemis. She stopped grabbing. She stopped begging. She breathed. When Pan played, she held out the meat and stayed quiet. The phoenix studied her. Then it hopped onto her wrist and took the food gently. They worked until the sun sank low. Stevie learned to speak with stillness instead of orders. By dusk, the phoenix landed on her arm when she raised it. It flew back when she called. It stayed when she said stay. Stevie returned to the herald. She lifted her arm, and the phoenix settled on it, calm and obedient. The herald checked her name against the list. "Trained companion confirmed," he said. "You may compete." Stevie's chest swelled. She had a place in the games. But the herald leaned close and lowered his voice. "One warning. The first trial pits your companion against a beast three times its size. A single phoenix may not be enough."