I am the Phoenix. I don’t know when I was born. Maybe I’ve always existed. The memories don’t always survive the burning. I remember bits and pieces, landscapes long gone, flashes of sharp teeth, and animals that nothing alive now has ever seen. I don’t know if there are others like me. Maybe they are hiding, or they are secretive like me. Just as well; I don’t tolerate competition.

I ride the minds of lesser beings, giving them my energy, my will to live, to survive against all odds, and to dominate. They may feel my presence, though they can never truly understand me. I teach them about strength, about the need to gather all they can for themselves, though I have no need for riches, slaves, or even admiration. What I require is fire, and fire always appears when the oppressed rise up, when the chaos of revolution and war immolates what has been gathered on a glorious pyre. The fire sustains me, and when my host becomes too weak to serve its purpose, I discard it and flutter away like glowing embers until I find my next vessel. They need not immolate themselves for me to be reborn, though it helps. I have made conquerors of the most pitiful creatures. You may have heard of some of them. Their names don’t matter. Only the fire matters. Only I matter.

Don’t misunderstand me: I act not as a leech swimming in a murky pool but as a true savior, a messiah for those that have the will to conquer. I smell them in the herd, like wolves among sheep. Are you one of them? Do you dream of power? Of superiority? We can help each other, you and I. Call out to me, and I may bless you with my gifts. Together, you and I can do great things. I have so much to give you. I am the Phoenix, and I shall live until the last star burns out in the sky.