The Phoenix Pyramid stood solemnly atop the volcanic peak of the Isle of Flame.
These ancient stones, weathered and covered with russet moss, seemed as much a part of the cliff as the rocks themselves, as if placed here by divine hands. After the Phoenix Guard departed, only a few sentries remained, most stationed at the main entrance. They appeared overly confident in the other two entrances, so once the Flame Guard set off, no sentries were posted there.
Some ancient force pulsed from within the pyramid, so old that many components had begun to fail, including the ancient enchantments, the divine power of Asuryan, and parts damaged during the First Great Chaos Invasion and later battles between the Teclis brothers and Slaanesh's great demon En-Kari.
Ryan and Vulkan soon realized they didn't need to be overly cautious. Shielded by the rain, the storm, and the thick fog conjured by the Lady of the Lake, they moved slowly, slipping behind a stone wall toward an abandoned entrance. Ryan let the heavy raindrops splash onto his face, resisting the urge to use his psychic powers to avoid alerting anything as he soaked in the storm. "This place feels… strange, brother."
"I feel it too," Vulkan murmured, sensing the ancient energy flowing through the temple.
It was ancient, aged, and almost unknowable, yet both of them felt something unsettlingly familiar.
They felt… like they had returned home.
It was a power beyond the stars, vast, slow, and ancient, burning at the peak of the pyramid alongside Asuryan's sacred flame within the temple. Ryan felt a strange connection, as if something within this pyramid was more familiar to him than even the Emperor.
Ryan glanced at Vulkan, who looked equally entranced but said nothing, moving resolutely toward the Phoenix Pyramid.
After a few more steps, Vulkan's interest was piqued. "This doesn't look like elven architecture—it resembles the pyramids of the Old Ones I saw in Lustria."
"It's not just similar—it's the same," Ryan replied. "The Phoenix Pyramid predates the elves' worship of Asuryan. Its architecture aligns with that of the ancient Slann temples. Some say the Old Ones first contacted Asuryan and taught the elves to revere him."
"But elven mythology says Asuryan created the elves," Vulkan noted, catching the contradiction.
"True, which is why no one really knows. All we can be sure of is that the Old Ones must have met Asuryan before they left this world. Perhaps they even made a pact." Ryan was unsure of the details, but he knew that while Asuryan might not match the Emperor's current strength, his power was beyond their own.
Simply put, Asuryan's indifference and seldom-used powers made him god-like, yet distant.
"And our Father was often referred to as a 'young Old One' by the Slann," Vulkan mused. "So, do you think our Father has met Asuryan?"
"I don't know."
"Really? I thought he'd share more with you."
"Our Father always has a plan and keeps it to himself."
"That's always been his way."
As they traversed the abandoned pyramid passage, they could feel a potent force lingering—a divine realm, where Asuryan's power manifested as a brilliant white-gold flame, repelling any unclean presence from entering the pyramid. Should a Chaos demon attempt to breach the pyramid, it would need to disrupt the primary nodes of the outer wards, which were heavily guarded by squads of Phoenix Guard.
Every Phoenix Guard was a warrior of at least mid-legendary rank, handpicked from across Ulthuan.
Ulthuan had roughly ten thousand Phoenix Guard, Lilith had mentioned.
Ryan couldn't help but marvel at the High Elves' remarkable legacy. Such reserves... enviable indeed.
Each Phoenix Guard swore a vow of silence, pledging to serve Asuryan for life. From that moment on, they would never speak again, keeping all their secrets. They would live out their days in silence and austerity on the Isle of Flame or at shrines across Ulthuan.
This vow was both a curse and a blessing. Upon swearing it, each guard received divine strength, rendering them impervious to conventional magic or weaponry, and their sense of duty surpassed any earthly allegiance.
As Asuryan's champions, the Phoenix Guard answered only to the Phoenix King and their captain. When commanded into battle, they donned magnificent armor and wielded ritual-blessed halberds capable of cleaving enemies with a single blow. Their silence was an unsettling presence, and their auras were enough to instill dread.
Their eyes burned with an unbreakable loyalty to the creator of the elves, their air imbued with Asuryan's power. Any who opposed them would find themselves overcome by terror.
This absolute confidence in Asuryan's divine protection extended to the pyramid's defenses.
But today was different. Ryan and Vulkan, whatever their nature, bore shells that allowed them to walk the mortal world without corruption by Chaos.
They slipped along the wall and through a small side door into the pyramid's outer halls. In the shadow of the enormous stone walls, the Phoenix Pyramid loomed over them, with Phoenix priests nearby who seemed engrossed in hushed discussions, hastening past. Ryan and Vulkan quickly concealed themselves behind a wall.
"This place looks more like a barracks than a temple," Vulkan observed. "Or a fortress. Its defenders have great confidence in their defenses."
"First Phoenix King Aenarion came here once, sacrificing his life and soul to catch Asuryan's attention and receive divine strength," Ryan noted. "Without him, the world may well have fallen to Chaos long ago."
"A man who single-handedly fought four Greater Demons—fully realized ones," Vulkan recalled. "You know, Ryan, many heroes we hear about only defeat the avatars of such demons. But Aenarion fought four full Greater Demons alongside his dragon mount."
The two hid behind the courtyard walls, both in awe of the legendary first Phoenix King.
Aenarion was once a mere seafarer.
After he ascended the throne, how many Greater Demons did he face?
Countless.
Aenarion defeated each one in turn, but while demons could be reborn endlessly, the elf armies dwindled. Those were years of bitter, desperate struggle, a time when soldiers marched from hopeful patriotism to numb resignation, their swords raised only to delay the inevitable. The first Phoenix King's story was one of tragedy, a bitter ode for his people.
"In his darkest hour, he drew the cursed Sword of Khaine, bearing threefold curses. He became but a shell, unable to taste food, unable to sleep, haunted by whispers from Asuryan and Khaine alike," Ryan recounted, sharing the knowledge Lilith had revealed to him. "Devoid of taste and smell, he lived in a shadowed world, craving only slaughter and blood. His only solace came from his second wife, Morathi, who eased his madness through her beauty and forbidden potions."
"And together, they had a child—Malekith," Vulkan added. "He, too, came to this place and failed. The great Witch King strode into the fire to claim his birthright, only to crawl out a burned, broken wretch."
"The priests have left. Let's go," Ryan gestured. The pyramid's interior was mostly deserted. It seemed the Phoenix Guard and priests had full faith in Asuryan's realm's security.
The two moved quickly.
Fully armed, they weren't skilled in stealth, and the noise they made worried Ryan. But the Flame Pyramid had only sparse personnel, with the few priests and guards going about their routines, unperturbed by any threat. These followers of Asuryan trusted absolutely that no evil could breach the divine realm of the Phoenix Pyramid.
Taking advantage of this, Ryan and Vulkan slipped past several guards, pressing on toward the Phoenix Pyramid's inner sanctum—the Hall of Daylight.
The Phoenix Scroll was kept within.
This sacred site was forbidden to all, and thus, ironically, unguarded. Neither the Phoenix Guard nor the priests ever dared approach it. Ryan and Vulkan advanced through the hallowed halls, their path illuminated by braziers and torches that cast light on the walls around them.
They passed murals depicting Aenarion's legendary life, his triumphs over Chaos.
The ancient, worn golden steps bore elven runes, though their power had mostly faded over the centuries. They descended toward the Hall of Daylight, flanked by towering statues holding braziers.
Ancient elven script lined the walls. Ryan brushed away the dust to read the inscriptions.
At that moment, a blinding golden light burst from the wall! Platinum-colored flames emerged from the void, and the stone surface peeled away, revealing a hidden mural beneath.
Ryan and Vulkan froze in shock.
What they saw next astonished them even more.
In a kaleidoscope of colors, the mural showed a tall, black-haired man in golden armor holding a young human boy, as if sending him into a new world.
In the second mural, the boy, holding a wooden stick, fought off wild dogs while a White Wolf knight rode past.
The third mural showed the White Wolf knight adopting the boy, teaching him horseback riding and swordsmanship.
"This… isn't this?!"
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