Ravi Bodalia

Prologue

This book contains the greatest secrets of Earth’s rich history, and the solutions to our most challenging puzzles. Your historians misinterpreted the ancient texts, attempting to unravel the truth. But it was here all along: the pieces were simply misplaced. I can tell that you want answers, that you are hungry for knowledge. But I cannot tell whether you will be able to handle it. Regardless, I will continue; for it is something humanity must know. You have been kept in the dark for too long. Our story starts on the supercontinent Pangea, in a time of order and chaos, during the Age of the Birds.

You can try to imagine how such beautiful creatures ruled the lands and skies; but even then, you will fall short. For these birds were not of the kind you see today. No. They were more majestic, more colourful, and more intelligent. The epitome of perfection. They were celestial beings that held no place in such an unforgiving world; and they were designed by Eelith, a Creator respected and feared throughout the Universe. She gifted them to Pangea, bringing beauty, life, and joy to the planet.

When Eelith first created Pangea, she built eighty-eight unique areas distinguished by their differing climates and terrains. These zones varied widely in resources, ranging from diverse, thriving jungles to uniform, desolate glaciers. Every habitat imaginable could be found, and no creature was without a home. But such splendour was insufficient: Eelith thirsted for one final creation to showcase her prowess.

One fateful day, Eelith sent a storm raining from the heavens. It fell over a forested zone in the centre of Pangea, that would come to be known as Zona Mesmerosa. And interspersed with the perfectly rounded teardrops were a handful of seeds, so discreet that not the sharpest eye could discern them. With time they grew into extraordinary trees that bewitched their surroundings with beauty, and those in search of comfort sought the refuge of their sheltered branches. But change was destined to bloom. Year by year the trees became increasingly distended, as their trunks began to fill; and when at last they erupted, they gave life to the first birds.

However, none escape the bells of war; they are a force destined to ring ceaseless throughout eternity. Instead of living in harmony, the birds were not content to share in Eelith’s world. They fought and hunted one another, needlessly spilling blood over the fresh lands. With time this escalated into the First Great War, where every bird fought tooth and claw to reign over the most grand and awe-inspiring habitats.

The battles were so terrible that Eelith could not sit in the heavens and watch her most beloved creations tear themselves apart. Lighting up the sky, she spoke down to them one day. She told them she would render the lands uninhabitable if the birds could not find a way to make peace. And so, every bird species chose a spokesperson to represent themselves in the first Avian Council.

The birds could no longer live in harmony, so they thought to split the eighty-eight zones between the ninety-six species. However, no solution appealed to all. They spent eleven days and nights arguing before they came to a conclusion. The Olympiad. Every year, they would hold three events, in which a champion from each species would compete. The challenges would test strength, speed, and intelligence; and at the end, champions would select a habitat for their species in the order they ranked. To share the eighty-eight zones between the ninety-six species, they decided to split the last eight habitats between the sixteen lowest-ranked birds.

And that’s all you need to know. For this is just the beginning of an epic tale. A tale that will have you laughing, trembling, and weeping, as you muster the courage to keep flipping the pages, daring to learn and seek solace in the beautiful world that is Pangea.

I present to you: A Tale of Ash and Ruin.

Chapter 1

Ash surveyed the barren desert with keen eyes in search of food. But nothing grew or lived in the deserted, beige wasteland. Sand stretched endlessly in every direction, with monotony that threatened to consume his sanity.

'There must be something out there. I can’t bring back nothing for my wife. Not again.'

Ash’s body yearned for meat; his mouth salivated as his belligerent stomach cried in distress. A grown phoenix should have had no problem hunting, but the abrasive, golden granules that pervaded their lands boasted little promise. Still, he knew he had to try, so he flew to a vast swathe of sand dunes further West.

Ash was a handsome phoenix, subject to much jealousy amongst his people, with vibrant orange feathers, beguiling hazel eyes, and a luscious, auburn tail. Mounted upon his head was a single deep blue feather that provided a vivid splash of sapphire to his otherwise orange-coloured crown. Despite this, it was not his striking colour but his natural build that was most envied. With broad, mighty wings that spanned nearly three-and-a-half metres, he could reach incredible speeds and excelled at grappling. Like all phoenixes, he had three talons pointing forward and one backwards, allowing him to crush small prey with ease.

Since last year, Ash’s people have lived in Zona Langhroe, a vast desert-land sparse in food and water. After placing eighty-second in the Olympiad, this was their punishment. They shared the land with the avix, a smaller bird species with narrow wings and cat-like agility, who had done just as poorly.

Ash picked up the phantom whisper of a scurry and looked closer between the dunes. A shadow flickered across his vision. He tucked his feathers and honed his eyes, accelerating toward it. There was a camouflaged, insect-looking creature, trying so desperately to be inconspicuous. Suddenly Ash stopped, as a growl gave warning from behind. It was an avix, distinguishable by the high frequency produced by its thin vocal cords. Although small, these birds were quick and stubborn, and hunger had driven them to become more aggressive.

Ash turned to find the bird challenging him, but he would not yield. This was his meal. The opposing avix had a dull grey coat, white-speckled underbelly, and short wingspan. Ash wasn’t concerned. He screeched and steeled his mind, ready to fight.

As the opposing bird came down to his level, Ash stared with narrowed eyes. This avix was no stranger to a fight, evidenced by the blood-stained feathers around its breast. However, it was unimportant; Ash too, had proven himself in combat. He moved forward and growled.

The avix advanced with caution, wary of Ash’s fierce talons and curved beak. Unexpectedly, it made the first move. Feinting right with its body, it jabbed its beak toward Ash’s left. The avix was quick, but Ash was quicker. He twisted in time to meet the bird’s beak with his talons, and launched himself higher into the air. The avix followed, but Ash dropped, raking his claws across his opponent’s face.

‘Stop,’ Ash growled. ‘There is no need for any more bloodshed.’

Unsatisfied, the avix lunged; but instead of dodging, Ash jabbed with his beak, piercing the bird’s abdomen. It screeched with pain and fury and drew back this time. Ash did not concede his advantage; he pressed forward with talons outstretched.

The avix didn’t try its luck again: it turned and fled. Ash screeched with exultance and swooped into the dunes to claim his prize, but withdrew disappointed. In his talons was an arachan, a bony, fist-sized arachnid sprouting eight furry legs and tusk-like fangs. It was a poor find and would barely feed one head. Dejected, Ash continued the search.

The phoenixes had divided into seventeen smaller groups, clans, to spread themselves around the area more effectively. Ash was a part of Clan Rhumbra, a tribe of phoenixes living in the northwest of Zona Langhroe. They were led by Elder Monroe, a bird who had cared for Ash since his parents passed away. The Clan Elder was always the oldest hen in the clan and had the final say in decisions and queries, alongside acting as the resident healer. After years of trying, Elder Monroe had recently given the news that Ash’s wife, Rekha, was pregnant.

You are probably thinking I’ve made an error, and that birds lay eggs. Yes. Your birds do. But these birds are different from those you live with now. Modern birds lay eggs because a chick’s weight would prevent them from flying; this does not pertain to the birds of Pangea. They had greater developed musculature and could remain aloft while carrying a chick in their stomachs, allowing them to give live birth.

Despite the wonderful news, Ash was worried. The Olympiad was a great idea millennia ago, but it had become a vicious cycle. Those that succeeded were far more likely to keep winning, due to a year of plentiful food; and those that lost, remained starving in the lesser zones. The phoenix was once a reputable bird, admired throughout Pangea. Now, they were lucky to grow to half their capable size, and seldom placed in the top sixty.

Eventually, Ash circled back around. He had not found anything else, but it was getting dark. The last few nights, he had been tempted to sneak into another clan’s territory; however, it was risky. Those that broke the rules were sentenced to exile, and that was practically an execution. A phoenix in exile would be forbidden from staying in Zona Langhroe, then likely killed by a neighbouring bird species for impinging on their territory. It sounds barbaric, but the rules had a degree of flexibility. A phoenix could travel to and from another clan with permission from both Elders; however, they needed a good reason. Starvation was not one.

Clan Rhumbra was small, with eighteen cocks and sixteen hens, but it made them a closely-knit community. Ash came from a strong bloodline of powerful phoenixes with a rich history tied to the clan. His great-grandmother had once placed thirty-second in the Olympiad, and the generations before had been equally successful. Phoenixes were not typically a large species, but his great-grandmother had been an anomaly. The stories they told recognised her as a terrific, hulking creature, with a bright, multicoloured feather pattern displaying red, orange, and brown.

Ash’s village had been made from a copse of palm trees surrounding an orchid-blue oasis. The birds of Pangea tended to favour structure and organisation; however, the ground was littered with shelters, taking attention off the many nests that hid amongst the trees. The phoenixes had few predators to hide from, so having shelters on the ground made sense. Furthermore, it made scavenging for insects and worms easier.

In the centre of their village, by the oasis, Ash could see Elder Monroe’s hut. He smiled as he thought of the old hen; she was auburn feathered with a light orange underbelly and vivid green eyes. Etched across her wings were blood-red spirals, that formed an elegant pattern courtesy of the krakatza. These were berries that permanently stained feathers, and birds used them to decorate their bodies. They had to be ground into a paste before being applied by a bird trained in krakatza.

Ash approached his nest, crafted with glue-like saliva and sticks he’d travelled far to find.

It’s not much, but it’s home.

‘I missed you,’ cooed Rekha in his ear, as she snuggled up to him. Their nest was large, but they were both big birds. Nuzzling her back, Ash put his wings around her. The cold ebbed away as warmth coursed through his body. He shuddered. She was his sun, radiating heat on the coldest of days. Unlike him, Rekha had mauve-tinted feathers that juxtaposed a light brown underside. It was a stunning combination, heightened by the small, red krakatza markings painting the tips of her wings.

Ash set the arachan by Rekha’s feet.

‘I found it creeping around the dunes to the West. It’s not much, but it will do for tonight,’ he said.

‘It will do just fine,’ she responded, tearing into its body. ‘Here, you take the top half, and I will eat the bottom.’

‘No, don’t worry. I ate down at the dunes. I found a pair of them together,’ Ash lied. He wouldn’t deprive his wife of food, especially now she was feeding for two. She would need the energy in the upcoming weeks, for they were soon to migrate to Zona Tropicana, where the Olympiad would take place. It was one of the greatest zones in Pangea, boasting an amalgamation of terrain that ranged from rainforests to mountains to lakes.

The winners of the previous Olympiad, the bengzhai, were required to host this year. They were a fierce bird species with sleek, aerodynamic shapes and keen claws. Wielding eyesight capable of spotting prey from six miles, they were unparalleled in hunting. Their reigning champion, Juno, was required to prepare this year’s arenas; and the upcoming events would have been decided by last year’s competitors, who made up the Avian council. However, these birds could not disclose any information discussed, to even their families, on pain of death.

The Olympiad consisted of three events, different every year, and included tasks such as hunting, racing, and fishing. After each round, a certain number of participants would be eliminated, until sixteen remained for the final event. Traditionally, this would be combat, which required strength, agility, and decision-making to prevail. The sixteen combatants would duel in a tournament style, one on one, until there was a victor. It would take place in a large arena utilising different terrain, with a vine netting to prevent flying too high. This round was not about winning land for your species- the top sixteen zones were wonderful and thick with food and shelter. It was about honour, and proving that your species was the best.

Phoenixes could live for centuries if not slain, and rarely died from natural causes; but there was a cost to this near immortality. It was very difficult for a hen to become pregnant, and would only occur under strict conditions. Typically, this constituted plentiful food, low stress, and a warm climate. Which is exactly why the phoenix numbers had begun to dwindle.

As Ash lay there that night, he couldn’t help but think of the sacrifices his parents had made. He was too young to appreciate it at the time, but now they were gone, seldom was a day he didn’t think about them. He knew he had been blessed to have been given a child, but he refused to accept his child’s life would be like his, struggling to survive and fighting for every meal. It was a sad existence. He had watched his parents’ strength diminish as they starved themselves to feed him, until one day his father could continue no more. Then, his mother had died of grief shortly after. Elder Monroe had done a fine job raising him since, but he had always wondered how life would been with his parents, about the bird he would have become.

Now, Ash was a grown cock in his prime, and determined to start a new era for the phoenix. He was going to win the Olympiad so that his kind would suffer no longer.

'May our wings catch the winds of change. The phoenix will rise again.'

Chapter 2

The week passed by quick as Ash’s clan prepared to travel. But before they could begin their migration, they needed to meet with the other phoenix clans to select a champion. For this, they would meet at Skull Fissure, a huge parting in the earth that stretched for miles. Here, the nominees would race through the treacherous chasm, dodging rocks hurled from spectators and fighting off fellow racers. It was going to be barbaric, but the phoenixes needed a worthy champion, with the speed to finish first, the strength to fight off competitors, and the acute awareness and coordination to dodge rocks. All at the same time. Regardless of Ash’s innate athletic prowess, this endeavour would test him.

Ash woke up excited: this was their last day before the journey to Skull Fissure. He had been training with his friend Vulcan most nights, where they had sparred until their wings gave out. Not even hunger could dampen his blazing spirit.

Rekha must have crept out, because when Ash looked around, she was nowhere to be seen. He stood up and stretched, realising it was late in the day, and his body throbbed with pain. The signs of overuse were showing. But he had to find Rekha, had to break the news that he wanted to compete in the Olympiad. He knew she would not take it well, but delaying the inevitable would only complicate matters. This was not the first time they were going to have this conversation.

Suddenly there was a crunch beneath Ash’s foot, so he peered down, curious. Rekha had brought him breakfast; several dung beetles lay before him, varying in size.

What did I do to deserve you? He swallowed them without pause. He was not satiated, but it was a start.

The birds of Pangea did not have a convenient means of keeping dates; they used their knowledge of the seasons to estimate. Ergo, the Olympiad would begin when every species of bird had arrived. This year, they estimated it would start in a month, so word had spread between the clans of the race at Skull Fissure in four days. On the fifth, they would leave for Zona Tropicana. It was going to be a twenty-day migration, during which they would cross many zones, providing a necessary relief from the lifeless desert they had been imprisoned in for a year.