Quil opened his eyes and immediately squinted against the brightness of the sun. He was on his back, his armor and the tunic he wore underneath wet from the sea. He felt cold and exhausted and felt the urge to just close his eyes again. I'm supposed to be dead, after all. He thought tiredly. Just then, a wave rolled in and drenched him with cold sea water and jolted his mind fully awake.
Memories from the night before came flooding back.
He was on a ship with unmarked sails and a hired crew the night before. Two male elves wearing uniforms from Elswin Academy of Magic were on board too. The two elves were his escorts in the mission given to him by Thalandil. They were to explore Crator Island and bring back anything valuable or worth studying.
"I am sure you will be successful in this endeavor, Aquilan. And I have hopes that you would be able to bring back something worthy of the Academy." Thalandil had said when he presented Quil with the dragon scale armor.
Thalandil's words were artificial in Quil's ears. The mission was a one way ticket. No one ever came back from Crator Island. No, this wasn't a mission. It was an exile.
As he tried to accept his fate, one of the hired crew, a human, came over to talk to him. It was a long talk about the church and how it could help him with whatever concern or trouble he might have. Maybe it was that lost look Quil had that brought the man to talk to him. Whatever it was, it gave him a little insight and a little hope on how he could separate himself from the phoenix soul that resides in him.
If he could make it back alive, that is.
The thought lingered in his head until the ship hit turbulent sea waters and the crew began muttering about how Crator Island was responsible for the sudden change. Before he could do anything to assist the crew, the two Elswin elves hoisted him up over the edge and dropped him into the roiling water.
As the waves crashed violently over Quil and pulled him underneath into the darkness, all he could do was close his eyes and surrender to it. A certain death.
But now, here he was, lying under the sun's unforgiving rays, half dead but still very much alive.
He rolled to his side, the sword that had been lying in his chest rattled in its scabbard as it fell onto the wet sand beside him. Quil coughed, his throat sore and his lips cracked from being exposed to both sea and sun for who knows how long. He tried to swallow but found that his mouth was parchment dry.
Where am I?
Your death would have served a greater purpose than you ending up in this island. came an elegant female voice in Quil's head. A voice he knew very well.
"You've always wanted me dead, Lady." Quil croaked out, his throat scratchy from dehydration. No matter how many centuries they spent together, the phoenix never spoke her name and so he settled to calling her 'Lady.' "I apologize for disappointing you." He muttered.
A splashing sound to his left made Quil sit up, his hand automatically grabbing the sword in its scabbard by his side, now partially buried in the wet sand. A sudden burst of adrenalin brought him up to his feet. A female drow was standing on the beach, securing her small boat.
His first instinct was self preservation. He looked around. A wide expanse of sand and sea, a beached ship and an impossibly tall cliff. And then, a drow. Everything spelled danger. His heart accelerated its pace, pumping phoenix fire into his veins. It warmed him but at the same time burned out the adrenalin from his system. He swayed on his feet and staggered forward. The small waves lapping against his boots began to sizzle and boil.
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