The island wasn’t on any map. No one had access to it except the one who owned it. A few animals had been imported to the island over a couple of centuries, and a private ecosystem now flourished. It was its own little world. But the one who owned the island was never at peace. He was never at rest. He was tired, very tired, but life for him was never-ending.
He didn’t receive visitors, nor had he left the island in decades. So it was with confusion he stared, perplexed, at the ringing phone on his kitchen counter. He used the phone to call out, but his number was unlisted everywhere. With enough money anything was made possible, and he had wealth accumulated over centuries upon centuries of life.
That meant whoever was calling him was one of his children.
Merlin answered the phone and needed to clear his throat before speaking. He didn’t speak even one word most days.
“Hello?”
“Merlin, it’s Glory.”
A rare smile touched his lips. “Daughter. I hope you are well?”
Though not his actual daughter, she was a direct descendant. He considered all master shifters his sons and daughters and treated them accordingly. Then again, he also considered all shifters his sons and daughters, though his connection to them was minimal because of their fleeting life.
“I am well, Father. But we need you back on the mainland.”
He frowned. “We?”
“Your children.” There was urgency in her voice. “All your children. Father, he’s back. He calls himself Arcas now. And he might succeed this time.”
“That’s impossible,” Merlin said, voice hardening. “That he lives again is no surprise to me. But that he should now succeed where he has so often failed? He does not have the power he once did during his first life. He cannot recreate the spell that sent the plague upon shapeshifters. Even if he could, it wouldn’t work now. Shifter bloodlines are different now.”
“As you say. But there is another way he could succeed. I… we, bird shifters, have been keeping a secret from you.”
Merlin narrowed his eyes. “What secret, Daughter?”
“You must understand this was a charge laid directly at our feet. Bird shifters were sworn to secrecy.”
“By whom?”
“Phoenix.”
Merlin startled. Ages separating the now from the then seemed to fade away, and Merlin was once again back in a steamy jungle filled to bursting with life. All the shifter packs, clans, and herds would gather yearly at one spot to give thanks and praise their creator: Phoenix. The firebird. His mother. Her glorious fire and rebirth every year was no longer revered as it should be, tossed aside for newer religions and violent, heathen gods. He suspected it was only the bird shifters, her favorites, who remembered her. Besides him, of course.
During his darker moments, he thought she’d abandoned him, ignoring his pleas and apologies. But it would seem she was there all the time, just out of eyeshot.
“Tell me, Glory.”
“There are four ancient scrolls. Magic scrolls. They are keys to a weapon….”
Merlin listened in silence and growing anxiety as Glory recounted the heritage of the bird shifters and the movement of the scrolls from hand to hand. His breathing became unsteady, and he nearly collapsed when Glory revealed her suspicions that Arcas wanted to unleash a creature that would infect and destroy shifters.
Merlin gripped the countertop to stay standing. He trembled like one struck down by a fever. Could this really be happening? Might his quest, so lately abandoned, be completed? He’d wallowed in despair for so long and could hardly believe the good fortune this simple phone call brought. Could his past sins finally be rectified?
“Father? Father, are you all right? Merlin?”
“I will come,” he said.
“Father, I’m sorry about the secret—”
“I will come,” he repeated. Then he hung up.