The Rebel’s Crown gives hope. It is a beacon to the oppressed and strength to the abused. A crucible that will purge tyranny.

╚╩╩╩╝

I fell.

There came shouts from at least a dozen men in a mix of jeers and insults. They were standing atop the cliff just above me. They had promised me food and shelter if I would acquire something for them. I had retrieved what they had asked for, a simple golden feather. It was in a small cave inside a sheer cliff, covered in slick moss that made it near impossible to climb.

Just as I had begun to climb up the rope that they had used to lower me, they cut it. Below where I had just been hanging was a field of large stones surrounded by tall green trees. It would be easy for them to pick their treasure off my corpse.

I clutched the cold metal in my hand as I fell, its sharper edges cutting into my hands. 

I didn’t want to die. Despite all that I had gone through, I wanted to live.

To this group, I was a pitiful existence. An eyesore that didn’t deserve a second thought. Expendable.

I had a family, once. A loving wife and two sons. Then the war started. I was drafted and quickly discharged due to a severe injury given to me during battle. Shortly after, they took our sons from us. They were only twelve and fourteen. It took less than a week for my wife and I to receive the tragic news of their fate. The grief became too much for my wife, who became deathly ill and quickly passed. Broken and unable to work, I lost my home, my friends and myself. I was pushed to the streets, forced to live off the generosity of others. 

Nearly ten years had passed since that moment. I managed to survive through many rough winters and the occasional sickness. I no longer resembled the man that I once was. Then, in my darkest time, this group approached me. They said that they had to retrieve something from the inside of a cave a great distance from the village where I lived. They needed my help because they were all too heavy to lift. To me, this was a chance to start new, a hope for a better life. They offered me food, shelter and even a job if I did well. My hopes were in vain.

The ground closed in quickly, the rocky landscape growing larger as I fell. Everything went dark as I hit the ground. Strangely, I didn’t feel the ground; everything just stopped all at once. I still felt as though I could control my body, but when I tried to do anything, nothing happened. Despite everything, I felt calm. I was finally at peace.

“You are dead.” Came a sharp voice from within this darkness, startling me.

“He has the feather!” Came another ecstatic voice.

A chatter started around me with hundreds of voices happily shouting something about a feather.

“Mortal.” The sharp voice stood out, stopping all others. “You hold something special.”

“The feather. He has the feather.” The voices started chanting again.

“Quiet! All of you! We all know that he has that blasted feather!” The sharp voice snapped, quieting all the smaller voices. I could barely hear something that sounded like a whimper from the quieted voices.

Another voice spoke through the rest, this one deep and smooth. “What you hold is the last feather of the Sunbird.”

The sharp voice perked up. “The Sunbird was an ancient being known for its innate ability to give life.”

“Unfortunately for the creature, the world had just been ravaged by a terrible plague, and people were desperate for a cure.”

“The Sunbird was a selfless and empathetic being. It gave all that it had to eradicate the plague. It had traded its own life for the life of the world.”

“Seeing the sacrifice that this creature had made for them, the people of the world gathered to safeguard the last remnant it had left. A feather from its crest.”

“They buried it deep within a mountain, not knowing of its power.”

“That feather shares the power that its owner once had. It has the power to bring life to anything it touches.”

“However, you are already dead. The Sunbird’s power cannot revive the dead.”

If it can’t revive the dead, then what reason would they have for speaking to me. Surely they had better things to do then rub my own death in my face. Why are you telling me this? I wanted to ask, but I was dead and couldn’t speak.

The deep voice, to my surprise, answered my question. “We are telling you this, because we would like to make a deal.”

“Yes. With ours’ and the feather’s powers, we could create a new body for your spirit to reside.”

“We would do this on one condition.”

“We would not immediately give you control of the body.”

“There is a great task which we would have you accomplish, and in order to prepare you for this, we will take measures to ensure that you are able to complete it.”

“Do you accept?” Both voices spoke expectantly. It was as if they knew I was going to agree.

These two voices had given me so much information all at once, and there was no way that I could verify that it was true. And they spoke so fast that I was barely able to keep up. A part of me felt that something was off and that it would be bad to accept. There was something off about everything happening, but something in the background assured me that it would be good, despite the bad. Whether it was my thoughts, or one of the voices, I didn’t know, but something told me that it was true.

Yes, I accept.

“Excellent.” The two voices boomed in excitement.

I felt a sudden rush as the voices in the background became louder with inane garbling.

Suddenly, the darkness vanished and I could see the bright world once again, though it seemed brighter than before. I could see my lifeless body in a crushed mass on the ground. A pile of sallow skin hanging tightly to a fragile skeleton, covered in a mass of hair grayed not by age, but by stress and depression. It looked like the men had been dropping stones off the cliff to see which ones would hit my body. It looked like they were competing to see how much damage they could do and that someone had probably won by now.

Darkness quickly covered everything around as storm-clouds gathered overhead, pouring down rain. Still clutched in my hand, the golden feather flashed a dull light and started to lose its golden color, trading it for a deep purple.

An opaque violet energy began to flow from the feather, enveloping my lifeless body. After a moment, the energy surged away from my body and began to spiral above the ground a short distance away, carrying parts of my decaying body and using them to add to what I assumed was my new body. 

The rain stopped and the energy finished taking shape and revealed the standing form of a young girl, who looked no older than seven years old. Long, straight, ash colored hair cascaded down her shoulders and back, stopping just over her waist, almost matching the color of her delicately pale skin. She wore a long, simple dress the same color of the violet energy that hung down to just over her ankles. Something about the way this girl looked pained me, but I couldn’t quite figure out why.

The feather, now a dull yellow color, lay inert on the ground, rose into the air and shot towards the girl, piercing through the center of her forehead. The feather stopped the moment it broke the skin and a small red flame appeared at the top of the feather, devouring it without leaving ashes. The flame slowly burned its way down through to her forehead and the moment that the flame reached her skin, only a dim diamond-shaped glow remained on her forehead before that too disappeared completely.

In that moment, I could feel my spirit being dragged through the air and into the girl, stopping just after entering, like I was dipping my feet into a shallow pool of water. Then her cerulean blue eyes flickered open, examining the world. It was a strange sensation. I could feel every sense through this girl’s body, yet couldn’t. I could feel everything through her body, and through what I assumed was my spirit at the same time. Suddenly, she started moving on her own, and started to become very scared and confused. I had no idea how I knew what she was feeling since I had no control of her body, though I knew that neither did whoever those voices belonged to. So who did have control?

I know now how much I took my own body for granted. Having all five senses was amazing and I had lost the appreciation for them. The smell left after rain mixed with the scent of pine, the taste of the moisture in the air, a lukewarm breeze blowing through the trees. And the sudden voices of bumbling brutes just coming through the trees on the other side of the clearing.

“Why’d it haf ta get so blasted dark? We were havin’ fun.” One of the brutes pouted, speaking like his tongue was too big for his mouth.

“Can’t help the weather. Le’s just find that jerk and get goin’” Another brute spoke, seeming to have the same speaking problem as his friend.

Those brutes were within earshot, and also smelling distance it seems. I guess that my own nose had grown dull from living on the street for so long. A stench followed them that closely resembled burnt hair and rotting corpses.

I couldn’t move this girl’s body, but I really wanted to. And it seemed that she had some common sense and moved behind some trees. The storm-clouds had now broken and let some light shine down on the clearing where my body had laid previously. The only remnant of me falling there was my old cloak. There wasn’t even any blood left.

Thirteen men came into view, all but one looking like the wrong end of a horse. The odd one out, their leader, the man that I recognized as the one who had approached me for this job, was at the head of the group. He was a tall, slender and pale man who dressed in well fitting, dark clothes, with even darker eyes. His blond hair was cut and styled very fancily. He dressed like a noble, which made it easier for me to trust him at first.

“He’s gone…” The leader muttered.

“Don’ worry boss. He’s ‘round here somewhere.”

“Are you sure!” He yelled, turning on his heel to face the one who had spoken, continuing to shout angrily. “Because I remember him going splat on the ground right here!”

“Well maybe some’in ate ‘im.” Another spoke up.

“No, there’s something else going on. There’s not a drop of blood or trace of a beast. The only thing left here is his rotted cloak. Ham! Come over here!” The nobleman called out, turning back towards the men.

A young man, not yet in his teens, with hair the color of churned cream came out from the group and stood in front of their leader. His eyes were dark, but shone like water in the moonlight. He had lighter skin, though with tan-lines that would suggest that he spend a long time in the sun with only his hands exposed.

“Do your thing.” The leader commanded before stepping aside, gesturing to the cloak.

The boy named Ham stepped towards where my cloak sat and pressed a hand to his chest. A faint purple glow shone from where his hand was pressed which started to flow through his body until it passed through his eyes. The moment the glow passed through his eyes they began to emit a flame like aura.

Ham pulled his hand from his chest and aimed it at my cloak. A plain ring of white energy formed just in front of his hand, pulsating silently.

“Well?” The leader asked impatiently.

“It’s strange. The spirits here are silent… afraid.”

“What would make the spirits… afraid?” The leader mocked.

“I’m not sure, boss. But whatever it is, it’s not good.” Ham said, his voice quivering, “We need to get out of here.”

“Sorry, but whatever is scaring those spirits of yours can’t be much scarier than Terrence when we don’t get him what he wants. That fat pig will hang me by my teeth if we don’t find that feather.”

“But dad!” The boy cried out, turning to face the nobleman.

“No buts. And you know not to call me that! Spread out and search!” The leader commanded, turning to the group of bumbling oafs. “We’ll go out in teams of two. And because we’re currently shorthanded, Ham will go by himself. Maybe he can get those spirits talking.”