I sat on the edge of the cliff, dangling my legs over as I looked out over the city. Avenglade was a nice enough city, full of life and magic, bustling with commerce, but I didn’t live here for the community or the benefits. I lived here because it was the last place I’d been happy.

Humans imagine that immortality is something to be pursued, something to be desired.

They’re wrong.

Imagine living for centuries, millennia even, watching the world go by and having nothing to connect you to it. Imagine loving someone, only for them to eventually slip between your fingers and be left alone, once more. Imagine a life where you are alone. Forever.

Technically I’m not the only phoenix on the planet, nor am I the only practically immortal species. That doesn’t mean there are options out there for me. Perhaps it would make sense to fall in love with someone who would at least live hundreds of years, but for some reason, the only people who’ve ever caught my interest have been those who lived fleeting lives.

Several hundred years ago it was Dahlia, a bright young vampire full of plans and ambitions. She wanted to go to university, wanted to challenge the idea that women should stay home and raise babies. She was smart, smarter than most men who did attend university, and she wanted to prove it.

Then she’d been burned in Hunter’s fire during the middle ages, and when I tried to dash in to grab her and drag her out of the burning building, they’d locked me in, too.

For some years after that, I’d wished I’d died with her. Well, technically I did die – but I was reborn, as always. Unable to truly ever die. And I’d gone on, nursing my broken heart, until it slowly faded into an ache that could never fully be forgotten.

Marguerite, my second love, seemed like a quiet thing but just under the surface was a wild child who would sneak out at night and dare to explore. She’d wanted to ride the oceans, see the farthest reaches of the world, and one day she snuck on board a ship to have her dream come true.

She’d thought I wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t approve, so she hadn’t told me. I found out too late what happened and then was too late in obtaining a vessel to follow her. By the time I reached the ship she’d been on, it had long sunk, her human life snuffed out almost before it had begun.

I’d been deeply hesitant to love again. For decades, whenever I was attracted, I’d hesitated for far too long and lose my chance. There was a fairy named Joanna I almost loved, once. She was beautiful, vivacious, and a talented singer. She’d wanted me to love her, but I’d taken too long to think about it, and by the time I made up my mind, she’d already moved on. There was a demon by the name of Roquelle, a very persistent demon who’d promised me she’d always be by my side, that she’d protect me and herself and I would never have to worry about losing her. But again I hesitated, uncertain, and again eventually she left me behind, too.

I finally gave in to love with a young shifter named Alice. Alice found me one day and started asking me all sorts of questions, her curiosity burning almost as bright as my eyes. She flirted, she told me she loved me, she wouldn’t give up. I didn’t even notice as the years went by that she’d slowly invited herself into my life more and more until it dawned on me that she’d moved in and I hadn’t even realized.

“If I told you,” she’d explained, “you’d have just refused. So I didn’t tell you.”

Alice made it abundantly clear that she wasn’t willing to let me say no and would never give up on me. She promised to love me until the day she died and I found myself believing her earnest eyes. I finally dared love again – only to find my heart smashed to pieces when she died of a sudden heart attack. Only then did I find out she’d had a heart condition – unusual for a supernatural – since she was very young. She’d always known she wouldn’t live to old age but had chosen to spend her life with me anyway. I suppose that was why she refused to let me reject her. She wasn’t willing to waste the time.

It was ironic, in a sense, that her heart had been defective, yet it was mine that was destroyed when hers stopped working.

That had been almost 40 years ago. I hadn’t left Avenglade after that. I still grieved over the loss of Alice, over the loss of every woman whom I’d loved, and for now I saw no point in moving from this city. At least here I did have some happy memories. Fleeting, aching ones, but they were still happy.

“Oh! Whoops,” a voice interrupted my reverie, “I didn’t realize anyone was up here.” Then a pause. “You, uh, aren’t going to fall off, are you?”

I sighed and turned towards the intruder before being startled by who was there. Or rather, what.

A ghost. I didn’t see many of those – ghosts were formed under specific circumstances and only lasted until, essentially, the reasons for them being a ghost were fulfilled. They didn’t even tend to last a year, usually, more often weeks at most, and most of the time ghosts would spend their days in the city, haunting their old lives, not wandering up here high in the mountains with no one around.

“I will not,” I said at last.

The ghost seemed a tad surprised, its eyes widening as it looked into mine. “You – you see me, then?”

I raised an eyebrow. “If you did not think I would see and hear you, why speak to me as if you did?”

The ghost looked abashed now, rubbing the back of its neck with its hand. “I, uh, I’m newer to ghosthood, I suppose? It’s automatic, I’m still getting used to the idea that people might not be able to see or hear me.”

The ghost cautiously came to sit on the edge of the cliff, too, as if afraid it would fall off.

I couldn’t identify whether the ghost was male or female, or perhaps something else, which was odd but not impossible. There were supernatural species which essentially had no gender and others which could alternate at will. Not to mention, some people simply preferred to dress in ways which were gender-neutral.

Somehow, I didn’t think that was the case with this ghost, though. Actually, the mention of only recently becoming a ghost led me to believe that the ghost didn’t remember who it was yet. Until it remembered, its features would be vague, undefined. Age, gender, race – nothing was clearly delineated until the ghost remembered.

Somewhat of a sad existence, I suppose. Not even remembering who you are.

“I am a supernatural,” I provided. “Many of us can see ghosts, or at least are aware that one is present even if they cannot make out the details. Humans rarely have that ability. Most likely, those who have not seen you were human.”

“I see,” the ghost mused, but its face indicated it did not understand.

“You were once supernatural,” I went on. “Ghosts can only be made from supernaturals.”

The ghost looked down at itself, then at me. “Do you know what I used to be, then?”

“You are currently in an incomplete form, so no, I cannot see what you were. Even if you were complete, however, it is unlikely it would fully show. Ghosts retain a human form and cannot use their former forms or abilities – shifters no longer shift, angels and fairies no longer have wings, naga no longer have tails.” For some supernaturals, being turned into a ghost was devastating all on its own – they were no longer what they used to be. They were something new, something that wasn’t them.

It probably contributed to their short existence.

“And…how would I become complete?” The ghost asked hesitantly.

“It happens when you remember who you were,” I explained simply. “Until then, you are undefined.”

The ghost turned its eyes back towards the city. “I see.” This time, more understanding in its voice. “I don’t remember who I was or how I died,” it admitted.

“That is not unusual for new ghosts.”

It gave me a sideways glance. “So what are you? If you are a supernatural – what kind?”

“I am a phoenix.” Seeing no recognition in its face, I smiled slightly to myself. “We are rare, only a handful of us worldwide. It would be unusual for you to be familiar with one of my kind.”

“And would familiarity trigger my memories?” The ghost queried.

“I suppose it does not hurt to try.” I sighed a little to myself, though. I came up here for peace and memories, not to lecture a new ghost. Still, it wasn’t a bad distraction, I suppose.

I briefly explained each of the major supernatural types, then branched into less common ones, making sure to cover every species that I knew of that existed in the city.

Not to my surprise, nothing I said triggered anything with the ghost. It was still uncertain of its identity when I finished.

“Thank you for trying,” the ghost sighed. “I suppose I should get back now.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why?” It wasn’t that I particularly regretted the ghost going, but – but it hadn’t yet realized something.

“Because it’s late and…oh.” The ghost paused. “I…don’t have anywhere in particular I need to be anymore, do I?”

Late, hmm? It wasn’t even dark yet, just the first tendrils of dusk sweeping out. It was a long walk back to town, perhaps that could explain it, but I felt it was more likely the reference to the ghost being late had something to do with the way it lived.

“You used to be expected to get home at a very specific time? Early evening, perhaps?”

The ghost looked confused. “I…I think so. I can’t remember, though.”

“Well, perhaps you should follow your instincts, then. You said you thought you should get back. Go, without thinking, see where you end up. Perhaps you will find some answers when you arrive.”

The ghost shifted a little, uncertain. “Maybe. I’m a little uncertain about what I’ll find, though.” Then a thought seemed to occur to it. “Could you come with me? So I won’t be alone? I’m not sure what will happen if I find out who I was or even how I died.”

My first instinct was to say no, but the ghost was like a lost child, needing even the slightly familiar face of a perfect stranger who’d spent a few minutes with it in order to comfort its fears. It was a distraction, and distractions were welcome. I could assist the ghost.

“Very well, I will accompany you.”

I rose to my feet, and the ghost looked at me in surprise.

“You are much taller than I expected, for a woman,” it admitted. “What is your name, by the way?”

I looked out at the city, my eyes seeped in sadness as I remembered the last person who’d called me by my name.

“My name is unimportant.”

“Oh, I’m – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude,” the ghost said awkwardly.

I sighed and turned back to the ghost. “My culture is different. We do not share our names with anyone unless they become family.” Or lovers. “If you wish to call me something, choose a name yourself. I am used to people calling me by names they choose.”

The ghost seemed startled. “You – want me to name you?”

“I want you to select a name to call me,” I corrected. “If you feel that you need to call me by a name. It may not be worth the bother. We might never meet again after this night.”

“Oh,” the ghost said quietly. “I see.”

We were silent as we walked down the winding trail that led from the cliff towards the city. The ghost likely thought I had no interest in being friends, which was neither true nor false. There was nothing wrong with the ghost, no reason not to befriend it – except that its second life would be over in the blink of an eye. When whatever bound it here was completed, the ghost would fade.

And I was tired of losing people, even friends. In thousands of years, I had lost more friends than I could count, not even mentioning the women I had loved. I had good friends, bad friends, friends I would have died for, friends who betrayed me. But in the end, almost all of them had died.

There were a handful who still existed. One of them, here in the city, was the reason I had originally come to Avenglade – a chance to at least reunite with one familiar face, a cherished rarity for me.

The ghost seemed nice, but I didn’t wish to make a friend who could easily disappear overnight. Even the loss of friends wore at my heart and soul.

But no matter how much I lost, I would never die, always just existing, forever existing, not particularly living, but unable to die.

The life of a phoenix was cursed.