Warcraft Fan Fiction ❯ Turning Red ❯ Twisted fate ( Chapter 25 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Flames dance in her eyes as she watches the bloodthistle farm burn to the ground. 

Phoenix had thrown the last of her explosive cocktails towards the far end of the large greenhouse, rupturing the glass and spreading flames across the plants towards the rear of the farm. 

Seven had just finished splashing oil across the floor, for Phoenix to do the honours and gently release her lit torch, before watching fire consume the area. 

Now they stand, together, at the entrance, watching  their destruction unfold. A few Steelfeathers lie unconscious behind them. 

Phoenix feels like smiling, but the fire and smoke has distracted her, so she retains her neutral gaze and enjoys watching the spectacle before her. The scent of bloodthistle had never smelt so sweet to her as it does right now. 

She relishes the moment, red mask on her face, red fire in her eyes, as she watches drugs worth hundreds of gold go up in flames. She can hear the anger of the inferno burning the plants to cinders. She manages a smile.




Phoenix stirs. She is lying on her back on a cold, damp, stony floor. She kicks her leg out and it hits a wall. Her arm scrapes across the rough, dirty ground and she instinctively places her palm to the floor and forces herself to jolt upright into a sitting position, pushing through her exhaustion to scan her surroundings. 

Her head is groggy and her mouth is dry, the bitter taste of the sleeping gas lingering at the back of her throat. She can’t have been asleep for longer than a few hours. She’s not sure what’s worse, waking up from such an enjoyable dream or finding herself in a prison. She quickly decides the whole situation is shit.

Phoenix is in a dark prison cell, large enough to comfortably fit three or four people. There are bars in front of her, blocking her exit. Through them she can see another symmetrical cell opposite hers, its door open, with an incredibly narrow walkway in between. She stands, slowly, her left knee flaring with pain from the fall, and she places her gloved hands around the bars. Her body feels lighter than usual, she is without her sword and her bag of provisions is nowhere to be seen. She looks around and notices dirty walls either side of her and behind her.

“Good morning,” a faint, light, almost gentle voice rises in the dark ahead. A match is struck and a single candle is lit on the wall at the back of the open cell opposite hers. In the dim light, Phoenix spots two figures ahead of her. Who are they? 

One appears to be the robed lady from earlier, who is sitting on a stool, tightly bound to it with rope. A sack is over her head. The other is harder to make out beneath a black hood, but they have high elven ears. She is sitting on a chair next to the robed woman. 

“Who are you?” Phoenix blurts out, her voice echoing slightly around the small, bare prison walls. “Where am I?”

There is a pause. “Shhhh,” the voice responds, gently. “You don’t speak unless spoken to.”

“Seven!” Phoenix shouts, rattling the bars. There is no response. She looks from the tightest angles in her own cell to see as much as she can of the room outside the bars. To her left sees a door, probably the entrance to the prison. To the right there is another cell, next to the one ahead of her. Perhaps there is one next to Phoenix too, on the other side of the wall to her right? 

She hears the voice ahead of her sigh.

“I would keep your mouth shut if I were you,” the faint female voice murmurs low, a commanding undertone warning Phoenix not to test her. 

“And why is that?” Phoenix responds boldly. 

“Because you might not like the consequences,” the voice replies, louder now, more coherently. It is sharp and cold, like a deadly knife in the dark. Phoenix recognises it instantly and her heartbeat thunders in response.

“And don’t bother calling for your friend, he’s going to be out for quite some time,” the voice spits. 

The figure in black leather pulls her hood back to reveal a head of long, white hair, curled at the tips. Grey-blue eyes glint in the candlelight, burning with hatred. The feather tattoo on her neck is skewed and scarred from a bite mark.  

Alexandra Steelfeather smiles wickedly in the candlelight. “We’re going to play a game,” she says.

“Fuck you,” Phoenix snaps, instantly. “When I get out of here I’m going to kill you!” she screams.

There is a silent pause. Alexandra suddenly swings at the robed figure beside her with a violent punch to the gut. The woman lets out a muffled groan. With one hand, Alexandra removes the sack slowly and lets it fall to the floor, while her other hand gently strokes the bruised and battered face of Amelia Dreamfoil.

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Alexandra adds, turning to Phoenix’s mother. “Will she?”

Amelia shakes her head instantly, looking down at the floor.

“Mother!” Phoenix cries out, as her face screws up like a frightened child. 

Amelia, facing Alexandra, does not turn her head. Instead, her eyes roll slowly to her right, making eye contact with Phoenix for a second before closing her eyes tightly. Her chin wobbles and a single tear races down her cheek, smearing her make-up. Her face is a painting of deep sorrow and fear. Months of torture and abuse make her look like she’s aged two decades in just over a year.

Alexandra laughs a little and breathes in deeply to catch her breath.

“What a lovely little family reunion,” she says mockingly, laughing a little. “All thanks to our accomplice in Stormwind.”

As the realisation sinks in within Phoenix’s mind, her fear rises, bordering on panic. Thirteen has betrayed them. But why? She hears Seven’s voice in her head urging her to remain calm, as he has done so in the past. Phoenix struggles. 

“Now my father and I will join Trixie’s little gang, as promised,” Alexandra continues. “That little green piece of phlegm asked for two more to join her merry band of fools, right? Well here we are! What a nice surprise. My father will be joining her soon. He’s probably already on his way there now, with some others, just in case she wanted more.”

Phoenix’s hands tremble and her head drops. Alexandra’s pleasure in the situation heightens as she notices Phoenix’s wide-eyed panic. She laughs in pure, wicked delight.

Phoenix wants to scream at Alexandra, to challenge her, to threaten her, to wipe that smirk off her smug face. But she knows it could result in her mother being hurt again, so she bites her tongue instead.

“That traitorous shit,” Phoenix blurts out instead, the last word rising in volume as she thinks of Thirteen.

“Uh-uh,” Alexandra responds. “You lash out, you say anything I dislike, I lash out at her,” Alexandra instructs Phoenix. “Do you understand?”

Phoenix grits her teeth, anger and fear swelling within her. She makes a half-arsed nod at Alexandra and hates herself for doing so. 

“I said, do you understand?” she repeats herself, wrapping her fingers tightly around a tuft of Amelia’s hair. 

“Yes, I understand,” Phoenix responds louder, more subserviently this time.

“Good,” Alexandra responds, releasing Amelia’s hair. 

“As I said, we’re going to play a game,” Alexandra repeats. She undresses Amelia, taking off her robe and letting it fall to the floor, leaving her in her underwear. Her body is malnourished and there are bruises and cuts across it. The rope is wrapped tightly around her ankles and the feet of the stool, while her arms are behind her back, her wrists bound to the chair.

“Mother…” Phoenix whispers to herself.

Alexandra picks up a plank of wood from behind her and knocks it three times on the ceiling above her.

“Truth or death,” Alexandra continues. “Oh, daddy and I like this game!” she claps her hands together sarcastically and giggles. 

Phoenix feels physically sick at the state of her mother and what’s about to play out. She pushes herself away from the bars, turning to face the wall to her left to maintain her composure in some way. It doesn’t work. Her heart is racing, her head is pounding and the queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach only worsens. She hopes with all her heart this is just a nightmare, but the taste of bitter sleeping gas and bile tells her otherwise.

“Are you ready?” Alexandra asks Phoenix from the open cell opposite her.

Phoenix shakes her head. 

“No,” she lets out like a squeak.

“I would reconsider your answer... unless you want me to strike out at your mother again, of course,” Alexandra instructs. 

Phoenix starts to cry, quietly. 

“Yes,” she says suddenly, her voice cracking as her crying turns into a sob.

“That’s the spirit! But, aw, don’t cry now,” Alexandra says with disappointment. “We haven’t even started yet!”

The door to the prison swings open, as a series of convulsive gasps escape from Phoenix’s lips, who tries to silence her sobbing. A member of the Steelfeather gang dressed in black steps towards the dingy cell Amelia and Alexandra are in. He hands something to Alexandra, with care, through the open cell door. 

“Thank you! Thank you,” Alexandra says with mock delight, taking the item. “Now kindly fuck off and leave us to it, won’t you? There’s a good chap.”

The man grunts annoyingly in response and swiftly leaves the room, closing the door behind him. 

Phoenix attempts to see what Alexandra is holding in her hand, in the shadows. Part of her doesn’t want to find out what it is, but her curiosity just about outweighs her fear. Phoenix smells it before she sees it - the scent of hot metal fills the musty, cold air. Tears run down her face.

Alexandra waves a small, hot iron poker gently through the air in her right hand, holding it up to get a good look at it. She circles her left hand around the poker a few times and clicks her fingers, sending a spark of fire magic onto it, heating up its end even further, turning the iron from red to a bright white. Like the difference in colour between Phoenix’s hair and Alexandra’s. Amelia closes her eyes tight and keeps her head down.

Phoenix’s fear rises another notch and in her mind she tells herself to comply with whatever Alexandra asks. The elf is not only capable in physical combat, she is a wielder of magic too, not to mention clearly deranged. Phoenix’s helplessness makes her feel like she wants to be sick; she covers her face in her palms, wishing there was some way to escape, to rescue her mother. 

“Now,” Alexandra says, placing the poker dangerously close to her own face and taking a deep breath, turning to face Phoenix. “Why is your boss still here in Eversong Forest? Why has she not left with the rest of her crew yet?”

Phoenix apologises to Trixie in her mind. Her mother’s life is worth more than this knowledge.

“She’s waiting for word from her captain,” Phoenix says, calmly. “We have not received word in over a year.”

Alexandra just stares at Phoenix.

“He must be dead, but Trixie refuses to-”

“Enough,” Alexandra says. “Where are the rest of her crew? Where is her captain?

“I - I don’t know,” Phoenix responds. “They never told me.”

“Wrong answer,” Alexandra says. She jabs the poker into Amelia’s right shoulder and twists it deep into her skin. 

“No!” Phoenix cries.

Phoenix’s mother lets out a blood-curdling scream as her skin begins to sizzle and melt around her shoulder. 

“Stop, I beg you! I’ll do anything!” Phoenix adds, hysterically. She bangs her hands on the bars.

Amelia’s agonising howls continue long after Alexandra pulls the poker back. With no way for Amelia to cover the wound or even bat a hand at it, smoke emanates from her skin and the smell of burning flesh fills the room. 

“Stop, please stop,” Phoenix adds, in between sobs. 

Alexandra turns to her. She says something but it is drowned out by Amelia’s screaming. Alexandra leans in towards her victim and presses her finger to Amelia’s face. She flinches in horror. Alexandra says: “Shhh.”

She stands and turns to Phoenix again, as Amelia’s yelps turn to quieter sobs.

“I’ll ask again. Where is the captain and the crew?” Alexandra asks.

“I don’t know, I swear,” Phoenix responds. “Please, I’m telling the truth.”

Amelia pauses. 

“Okay, mummy’s turn,” she says, stifling a laugh. “Why don’t we talk about family now?”

Amelia, who is no longer screaming, but ibbering silently to herself and shaking from the unbearable pain, turns her head towards the wall.

“How many children do you have?” Alexandra asks, keeping her eyes locked with Phoenix’s, gauging her reaction.

Amelia, for a while, says nothing. Alexandra waves the poker in the air, in a slow, flowing figure of eight, toying with the idea of burning her again.

“Two,” Amelia mutters. 

“Pardon? I didn’t quite hear that,” Alexandra says.

“Two,” Amelia states, loud enough for Phoenix to hear.

“You’re making her say this, I’m an only child,” Phoenix says to Alexandra, choosing her words carefully. 

Alexandra smirks, finding humour in Phoenix’s ignorance, but also vehement hatred towards her.

“And who is your other child?” Alexandra asks, staring at Phoenix, grinning. 

Amelia shifts nervously as Alexandra patiently waits for the answer.

“You are,” Amelia responds, deadpan.

A puzzled expression flashes across Phoenix’s face. She finds herself utterly disgusted at the thought of Norros being her father. No, that can’t be true. This must have been planned, she thinks to herself, a staged interrogation. 

“That’s right,” Alexandra says. “We’re sisters. What a lovely surprise.”

Phoenix, in disbelief, says nothing. 

“Why don’t you tell the full story, mother?” Alexandra spits. 

“I had Alexandra with Norros, a few years before I met your father, Phoe,” she says, low, in between shallow, tearful breaths. 

“When she was born, we had a disagreement. He took Alexandra from me, didn’t want me bringing her up at the inn… then he went away for a while, I didn’t see him anymore. I thought he had left for good.”

She sniffs.

“Then, I met your father… we had you. It was a one-night stand and I haven’t seen him since. I decided to keep you.” 

Alexandra interjects: “Liar!”

She holds the poker close to Amelia’s red, sweat-drenched face, the heat of the white-hot iron making her wince. “The truth.”

Amelia sobs. 

“I… wasn’t ready to have another child. I looked at options...” she continues, between breaths. “I’m so glad they didn’t work. I’m glad you were born, Phoe. Sorry.”

A tear falls from Phoenix’s right eye and rushes down her cheek. She thinks to herself: If she wasn’t born, maybe her mother would not be facing torture right now. Phoenix wishes she was dead, and a rage grows inside her, fighting against her fear.

“The usual potions didn’t work, so as it got closer and closer to my due date, I couldn’t find it in me to persist. I decided to keep you - and keep you secret,” Amelia continues. “I didn’t tell your father. I couldn’t anyway, he never showed his face again. I was bedridden for months and built up a large debt with Chrim, but I didn’t want the same thing to happen again, should your father ever return. I couldn’t bear losing another child. We made up a story that you were adopted by Chrim, an orphan child. Only Chrim, Solari and myself knew the truth.”

“Who is my father then?” she blurts out.

“Silence!” Alexandra shouts, pushing the poker towards her mother. “It’s my turn to ask questions!”

Her face is a mesh of hatred, anger and self-pity. She points the poker back at Amelia and asks: “What happened next, of my father?”

Alexandra continues, reluctantly: “A few months after Phoenix was born, Norros returned. He asked me to marry him, leave my life of public prostitution behind and live and work for him, as a private courtesan for wealthier individuals. He promised that if I said yes, he would reunite me with you, Alexandra. But... I couldn’t say yes. I couldn’t let him find out about Phoenix. I didn’t know what he might do if he found out. I made excuse after excuse, and he grew more and more restless. He paid me regularly for sex, he beat me, he scared me… in the end he took me by force, using a drug debt as an excuse.”

Alexandra suddenly shoves the poker aimlessly into Amelia’s face. It connects between her nose and upper lip, burning her flesh instantly. Amelia screams in horror and pain, instinctively flinching backwards from the poker and tipping the stool backwards. She falls into the wall and the stool tips further, losing its grip on the floor, sending Amelia crashing to the ground. One of the stool’s legs jabs into Alexandra’s foot.

“Ow!” Alexandra yelps, before kicking Amelia in the stomach. “You bitch!”

“Stop!” Phoenix cries. “Please stop hurting her! Why are you doing this? She is telling the truth! She was scared of your father, she wanted to see you!”

“Shut your mouth!” Alexandra shouts in Phoenix’s direction, suddenly rushing out of the open prison door, before stepping into the narrow gap between cells. She lunges towards Phoenix’s cell in an instant and thrusts the poker in-between two bars. Phoenix tilts her body to one side, dodging the blow. Her heart thunders in her chest. 

Alexandra swiftly pulls the poker back through the bars, and Phoenix wishes she could go back in time a few seconds earlier, so she could knock the poker from Alexandra’s hand. But it’s over in a flash and her opportunity has passed.

Alexandra is breathing heavily on the other side of the prison bars; Phoenix is pressed up against the wall behind her, scared her supposed half-sister might thrust the poker back in her direction. The two elves remain frozen in place for a few more seconds, the tension in the room reaching boiling point. Phoenix can smell a deep, musky perfume on Alexandra’s black, boiled leather outfit. 

The silence is broken when Alexandra forces an evil smile upon her lips.

“Your death is going to be so sweet,” she whispers at Phoenix. “Long and drawn out, but oh so sweet.”

She turns around and closes Amelia’s prison door, before taking a set of keys from her pocket and locking it, leaving Amelia strawn across the floor uncomfortably, her two burn marks clearly visible. Then she turns back towards Phoenix and smiles, slowly and widely. 

“Your turn to ask questions, sister,” Alexandra states, passing the cool end of the poker between her hands. “I’m a fair jailer.”

Phoenix takes a breath and clears her throat, thinking very carefully to ask questions that distract her sister, that do not offend her and perhaps reveal information that could be valuable - if she gets out of this hellhole alive.

“Why did Thirteen sell us out?” she asks.

Alexandra snickers. 

“We paid him handsomely, plus he seemed to hate quite a few of you,” she says. “It really was a simple trade. What a stroke of luck it was, him falling into our laps.”

Phoenix, feeling more and more vexed, thinks of Thirteen and how he was with the group. Her disregarding him as just a difficult, moody but harmless elf was arguably her biggest mistake - and one she vows she will not make twice. She promises to herself in this moment she will enact revenge on Thirteen should she get out of here and see him again. She notices Alexandra is still smiling, the candlelight spilling her shadow across the prison wall.

“Why are you doing this?” Phoenix finds herself asking next, without putting much thought into it. “By the Sunwell, she’s still your mother.”

Alexandra’s smile fades. 

“One - because you took my mother from me, and my father from her,” she responds, hastily. “Two - because you have killed several members of my family and my gang. Three - the actions of you and your little team ruined our businesses here in Silvermoon, forcing us out to Stormwind for a new life. You shamed us. Burnt our operations down. And four - because I hate you. My father and I must teach you a lesson. I will enjoy making you suffer.”

Her smile returns. She turns her back on Phoenix and faces Amelia.

“When I found out you were my sister, that day you bit me like the dog that you are, I was so angry at myself that I didn’t just kill you a day earlier,” Alexandra says sharply, with venom in her voice.

“But then you became a challenge, a mongrel for me and my father to hunt, a trophy to claim. Revenge to seek. And why kill you quickly when I can savour it? After you’re dead, your mother will have to love me - and my father. And work for us, as one family. Oh her loyalty has grown the past year, don’t get me wrong, but once you’re out of the picture it will flourish.”

Alexandra turns back towards Phoenix, leaning on the prison bars and pressing her face up against them. Her dainty nose sits in between two bars as she changes tack.

“Our mum has proven to be a rather loyal plaything,” she continues, her voice whimsical. “She’s very good as a living target for throwing knives, and in the bedroom... all the boys have taken turns on her. She’s not as good as she once was though…”

Phoenix fights back the urge to smash her fist into the bars, for the slim chance of connecting with Alexandra’s nose. Something, anything to shut this vile individual up, to teach her a lesson. She’s thankful she has managed to control her rage over the past year, with the help of Seven and the crew. It surely would have resulted in her death now. But today, she fights with words instead.

“You can kill me. You can beat her,” Phoenix says, quietly, with anger brimming in her voice. “But she will never, ever, love you.”

Alexandra’s smile fades. 

“You misunderstand me, I don’t want her love,” Alexandra says with a sharp twinge in her voice, but her face belies her words. “She simply belongs to us, a part of the business that she too will share the spoils of. A commodity that can be used to bring our family back to the status we deserve. A debt that she must honour.”

Alexandra stares at her sister, with loathing.

“Your family knows nothing of honour,” Seven’s deep voice crackles, from the far corner, in the cell to the right of Phoenix’s.

Surprise and hope flicker within Phoenix; an inner pride shines as her friend speaks, pushing her fear away - if only momentarily.

“You are not worthy of cleaning the mud from the bottom of my boots,” the orc’s deep voice continues. “You are a shame to the elven race. A shame to Azeroth. A pathetic excuse for life.”

Alexandra frowns and steps towards Seven’s cell, thinking of a suitable response but unable to come up with one quickly enough. 

“Your very presence disgusts me,” the orc continues. Alexandra grabs the piece of wood from the floor and taps it on the ceiling again.

“I would not even spit on you, for it would be a waste of my own saliva,” Seven continues, ignoring her. “And when I get out of here, when I break your bones with my bare hands, I’ll be the one who will enjoy inflicting a painful death, not you.”

Phoenix smiles for a second, but it vanishes when she looks ahead at her mother crumpled on the floor in front of her, writhing in pain from the burns on her face.

“You’re not supposed to be awake yet,” Alexandra says, stuttering slightly, a twinge of fear in her voice. “We administered a tranquiliser -”

“You can’t administer shit,” Seven retorts. “I am stronger than you think. Now bring me some food.”

Alexandra, flustered and shocked, stares into Seven’s cell. She sneakily checks the door is locked, before turning around and checking the other cells are locked too. 

“That’s right,best double check there’s no way for us to get out and break you,” Seven continues.

“Shut up,” Alexandra quips. “You want another lesson? I’ll give you another lesson.”

She swings the prison door open and storms outside the room, before slamming it behind her.

“Oh beauty, that was… beautiful,” Phoenix says, smiling widely, almost forgetting where she is for a moment. The mention of food reminds her of her own hungry stomach and dry throat. 

“Are you okay? How bad are your mother’s wounds?” Seven asks. 

“I’m fine, my left knee is aching though,” Phoenix says, as Amelia speaks at the same time: “I’ll live.”

“How much did you hear?” Phoenix asks. 

“I woke from the screams,” Seven replies. “I didn’t want to say anything to jeopardize the situation, but I couldn’t hold it in any longer.”

Phoenix hears the bars on Seven’s cell rattling. 

“I think I can maybe break these bars, but it won’t be easy,” the orc says.

“Alexandra had some keys. If we could goad her into getting close enough to one of our cells, maybe we could try to take them,” Phoenix says.

“We should -” Seven replies, but he’s cut off by the door opening and a couple of Steelfeather gang members walking through. One, with ginger hair, unlocks Amelia’s door and lifts her and her stool back up, before straddling her. He moves his face close to hers and licks her cheek disgustingly, looking over at Phoenix as he does so. 

The other, a more muscular type with a bald head, walks across to Seven’s cell. 

“You shut your fuckin’ mouth until you are spoken to by the boss’ daughter,” he says. “Or I’ll cut your pig tongue out, do you understand? I ain’t afraid of you.”

Seven says nothing. 

“As for your food,” the guard continues. He tips something from a small pot in his hand. Nuggets of wet human feces spill into Seven’s cell and onto the orc, who attempts to bat them away. 

The guards laugh at this. They leave the room, the second one blowing a kiss Amelia’s way before passing Alexandra in the doorway as they leave and closing the door behind them.

Alexandra enters the room, slowly, an air of danger following her every step as the spurs on her boots - the same ones she took from Phoenix during their first encounter - jingle. She looks at Phoenix with contempt, and walks over to Seven’s cell. She spits on him through the bars. He grunts in disgust.

“Your strength is wasted with this bitch and her group,” she says, flicking her eyes at Phoenix and back towards Seven. “But you are right to keep your saliva and your energy - as you won’t be drinking anything for quite some time. Maybe some more shit, if you’re lucky.”

She adds, calmly: “You will keep your mouth shut, until spoken to. Unless you want to be the one responsible for your friend’s death - and her mother’s.”

Seven says nothing this time. 

Alexandra turns towards Amelia’s cell and slams it open, pulling out the poker iron and lighting the end with a little magic again. Dread nestles in the pit of Phoenix’s stomach.

“Where does your leader keep the details of her captain’s location and dialogue with him?” Alexandra asks, looking at both Phoenix and then to Seven.

“I don’t know, I swear,” Phoenix responds. 

Alexandra shoves the poker close to Amelia’s heart. She presses very lightly on the soft elven skin, slowly burning it. Amelia flinches back and begins to groan. 

“The boat, and the base,” Seven responds, quickly. “I’m not playing games,” he adds, “there are papers and plans in Trixie’s rooms. You’ll need her key for these, she usually keeps them on her.” 

Phoenix places her head in her palms as Seven details the locations. This is all news to her.

Seven continues: “The boat is at Sunsail Anchorage-”

“Good, good!” she adds, beaming, lowering the iron poker. “See, you can play this game after all,” she addresses Seven. “You just needed a little warming up, that’s all.”

She steps away from Amelia and closes the door to her cell, locking it behind her.

“Our boys are already on their way to kill your friends, I guess I’ll join them tomorrow, it will be a simply delightful rendezvous!”

As she speaks, her voice rings with sick notes of pleasure. Anger suddenly rises in Phoenix to bursting point. 

Alexandra leans towards Phoenix’s cell.

“Thirteen… lucky for some, eh?” she says, smiling.

Phoenix lets out a guttural scream as the red mist envelops her sight. She bangs her fists and head on the bars, violently smashing her body into them. 

Alexandra just laughs as she watches Phoenix harm herself unintentionally. 

“Phoenix!” Seven shouts. “Phoenix, stop! Calm down, I’m here.”

At the sound of his voice, her consciousness slowly returns as she sees Alexandra step out of the room. Pain throbs in Phoenix’s head and her fingers. She looks down at her hands, which are scuffed and bleeding.

The two guards enter the room again, to watch over their prisoners.




At the West Sanctum, the brunt of the Steelfeather gang descend silently down the streets, towards the Tranquil Shore. There are fifteen of them, outnumbering Phoenix’s friends - Trixie, Django, Henry, Harris and Falkor - by three-to-one.

The Steelfeathers are led by Norros, the long silver-haired elf and father of Alexandra. Armed with Thirteen’s insider information, he is walking straight into Trixie’s hideout and plans to catch her crew by surprise.