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Upon the craggy rocks of the cliff-shore, Narsus of the Verdigris phoenix forge stood.

Short of breath and a hand pressed against his pounding heart.

The compass. A duty he spent his entire life trying to ignore now glowed.

Summoning him to Temple Prime to wed. The very temple that rose high behind him.

Where he himself had been hatched and raised.

To be in his phoenix form now would allow his emotions to run rampant and emote his grief, and thus spread the toxic nature of his poison phoenix heritage. So here he was, hiding in his human-self. Keeping the bitter feelings tamped down and somewhat under control. Even though they festered.

Since childhood, Narsus had been forever wrapped in the dark, heavy wool of his cloak and cowl.

For added precaution, he’d included a scarf to cover his nose and mouth if need be.

And a wide-brimmed hat to shadow his eyes.

Not from the brilliance of the sunrises and sunsets he so loved, but to shield his view of the world that feared him and the harm he could do.

To protect it from his poisonous nature. And so none could view his grief.

At his belt hung a pair of leather gloves, and his father’s ominous, black-beaked mask.

They were additional layers to guard those around him from the toxicity of his touch, his sweat, and from his very breath itself.

The beaked mask was a temporary gift given until he could craft his own.

But even Narsus shivered at the soulless stare of those large crystal lenses that made up the mask’s eyes.

Lenses darkened so his eyes weren’t visible to those who gawked at him.

In reality, he didn’t know if he had the courage to build his own mask. His template was so ominous, so menacing, that he was filled with hesitation. Unsure of where or how to even start. Or what design to pick.

Did he want to frighten the populace as his father did to keep them at bay? Terrifying people wasn’t kind. But he could not allow anyone near, lest they be harmed by his poisons.

Looped about Narsus’s thin, quivering digits, was the chain of his compass. He pondered the destiny before him. And the reaction from the temple behind him should he refuse. In desperation and turmoil, his hands shifted. His dark emerald talons scraped against the glowing metal.

Pebbles crunched behind him. Narsus ignored Brightside’s arrival, but pulled up the cloth scarf over his nose and mouth. Just in case.

“Your father just told me you never showed up to his not-hatchday festival,” Brightside informed him. “I think you hurt his feelings. Your grandfather had to be a stand-in.”

“I’ll make it up to him next year.” Narsus winced and tried not to think about the sorrow he’d caused over that.

The guilt was digging in deep. He loved his father, but his compass would vibrate and buzz at each festival.

Which meant his Compass-mate made the trek to Temple Prime every year to pay respects to the fire goddess, or to the undead phoenix god. Or both, as it was a joint celebration.

Every festival, Narsus would be on the move. Keeping one step ahead of the person frantically trying to track him. To have his mate that close, nearly within reach each year, was torture.

But this time, his compass had been silent. Narsus had been so depressed, he’d come to the cliff-side behind the temple to find some peace. And attempt to reflect. To tell himself the Compass-alert had just been a magical malfunction.

Like it did when it had pointed to Cinder.

Narsus knew Brightside didn’t understand the strife he felt at being Compass-born.

Brightside wanted nothing more than to embrace his own Compass-destiny, but could not.

The elf had lost his compass centuries ago in a shipwreck.

Somewhere out there where Narsus now stared.

Past the reefs and into the deepest depths of the ocean.

They were both broken and forgotten men, brought together by the darkness of woe and despair.

The sunset reflected in the waters, but the wind tugged at the scarf anchored about Narsus’s neck.

The element pushed back his hat instead, whipping his long green hair about in a frenzied halo.

The color warned of his Verdigris phoenix heritage and the poison flowing through him, even in this human form.

Absently, he tightened the hat strings so it would not be whisked away.

Narsus moved about restlessly upon the shadowy green flames that manifested beneath his magically protected boots. He looked out across the rolling waves, biting his lip so hard, blood trickled. It was followed by tears he blamed upon the cutting wind.

His Intended was calling out to him. Asking why he remained reticent.

He had to be silent. For the compass and its choice was wrong. Narsus had to do something, though. His Intended was on his way to Temple Prime. To him.

Narsus tried to pull his shoulders out of a sorrowful sag. Why now? Why now, after he’d already given up? There was nothing left. It was much too late. His heart was dead.

Anger suddenly raged along with the grief.

Looking at the glowing, shimmering compass, the directional rose bobbed and slowly spun before stopping and pointing to the temple behind him.

The one lone jewel that was burned out among its twelve shining companions mocked him.

This compass was nothing but a burden. Additional reason to toss this cursed-filled heritage into the ocean and be done with it all.

So he did.

Brightside’s soft gasp arose, and the elf took several hurried steps closer to the cliff. As if to try and rescue it, but failed, thankfully.

Narsus turned to his friend. “You have something to say?”

The elf’s beautiful, usually neutral face was now pinched and angry.

“When you formally asked me to bear witness, I—I seriously thought you’d changed your mind.

I watched you register. You touched your compass to the assigned pairing stone, all for nothing?

” He gestured toward the ocean. “You made a fool out of me. And yourself—twice, with this festival-disappearing fiasco. Why, Narsus? I don’t understand. ”

“I didn’t want to upstage my father, or the goddess, at their own celebrations by flashing around a glowing compass. I went through the marriage registration to keep the priests from harassing me.”

Where Brightside’s face had been twisted in anger, it now cast an edge of sympathy. “What you did for your father was noble, but he was still hurt you weren’t at his side. Why are you denying yourself, and your Intended?”

“My Intended will be better off without me.”

Brightside motioned again. “It didn’t look that way before you threw away two lives.

He was calling out to you. It glowed with joy.

I’ve never seen a compass light up so strongly.

Narsus, it’s not too late. I can still see it, slowly sinking.

Shift! Fly down and retrieve it. There, by the smaller log. Hurry!”

Narsus too, could see the bright cheery yellow gleaming out of the water from his peripheral vision.

Phoenix eyes were just as sharp as an elf’s.

Instead, he turned to glare at the beautiful being beside him.

“My Intended will change their mind once they see I’m a poison phoenix. A dangerous Verdigris.”

Narsus began to stride away on his cushion of flames. Only something made him pause. He forced himself not to look back into the water.

“It’s gone,” Brightside said softly. “I can no longer track it.”

He knew. He’d felt it. Back still turned to his friend, Narsus dug his talons into his chest, cushioning the pain before he continued on toward the dark pit of misery he once called home.

He was prepared for the many questions the priests would throw at him.

Priests he grew up with. Priests who were relatives.

He yearned for his isolated mountaintop aerie. Away from the bustling population where there were no annoying priests to remind him of his magical compass heritage. Or that he was the son of the undead phoenix god. He turned to resume his escape.

“Nar!” Brightside rushed to block his path. But respectfully kept a wide distance between them. “You realize what you’ve done? ”

“Yes. I’ve washed my hands of the honor.” Narsus waved a hand in dismissal.

“Being Compass-born is a sacred duty,” Brightside protested hotly. “To one’s own heart. Our love and emotions help fuel and stabilize the magical gestalt bonds all priests, as well as Elementals, have with their paired anchors. Or have you forgotten that?”

Narsus asked himself if it was his imagination that Brightside’s question held a note of fear.

“Compass-borns are nothing but a backup source now,” Narsus snapped.

“At one time, I was elated to have this honor. But I was young and naive. Now, I would just taint the magic well with a broken heart. A dead heart. ”

“Undead,” Brightside corrected sharply. “My friend, you’ve deliberately isolated yourself. The courtesans have offered countless times—”

“That’s not the kind of touch I want, Bree. Or yearn for.”

“Punishing yourself over your triplex heritages—”

Narsus counted off on his fingers. “You think a Compass-born, undead, Verdigris is a blessing?”

Brightside carefully, slowly outstretched his arms. “I am wearing my long sleeves and gloves, as you can see.”

Oh gods. An offered hug. From someone who cared about him . The corners of Narsus’s mouth collapsed into a frown and his eyes stung. Before he could stop himself, his fire snapped out of existence. One shaky foot staggered over to the elf. Then the other joined in.

What was he doing? He’d almost caved. Brightside offered this embrace fairly often, but Narsus always rejected them out of fear of killing his best friend.

It also felt wrong somehow. Like Narsus knew it wasn’t what he needed in order to feel whole.

That the act, no matter how honest, would leave him feeling even more miserable and empty .

Narsus spun away. “If there must be a marriage,” he placated. “It can still be done because I’ve already registered.”

“So you’re opting for a very short marriage, then,” Brightside clarified, heavy disapproval in the tone.

“Yes. Even without the compass, thirteen days will satisfy the requirements. Thirteen jewels on the compass bevel. Thirteen days to freedom for me, and the Intended.”

Brightside’s thin brows flattened. “But you still need to be there when your Intended shows up.”

Being confined in a waiting room with strangers, and struggling to make sure he didn’t harm anyone with his poisons, made Narsus shiver. The idea percolating in his mind cemented almost instantly. Brightside suddenly tensed.

Narsus knew the elf could see the intentions in his eyes. He held up a hand to bar his friend’s protest. “You’ll be there, Bree. Waiting for him. As my proxy. Bring my Intended to me so we can put an end to this and send him on his way.”

Brightside scowled. A strange sight on that elven face. “He’ll know the instant I step into the marriage circle we don’t belong together. What am I supposed to tell him?”

Narsus tried to set his shoulders up straight. “Tell him it’s for his own protection. Because he’s bound to a harmful, deadly—undead monster.”