Gorun trudged through the thick underbrush, sword in hand. The forest was eerily quiet, with no birdsong or rustling of small animals to be heard. It was as if the woodland creatures sensed something ominous stirring.

The snapping of a twig jerked Gorun’s attention to his right. He froze, muscles tensed, waiting. A few heartbeats later, a deer burst through the foliage, bounding away in fright. Gorun let out a breath, but didn’t relax his grip on his weapon. Whatever had spooked that deer could still be lurking nearby.

Up ahead, through the trees, Gorun spotted the crumbling ruins of a tower. Ivy crawled up its ancient stones, some of which had fallen away completely. As he approached, Gorun felt a shiver run down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold. This place carried a palpable aura of menace.

Nonetheless, he had to investigate. Rumors had reached the village of something dark and dangerous roosting in the old tower. As the chief’s son, it fell to Gorun to confront this unknown threat. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the shadow of the ruins.

It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim interior. Gorun found himself in a round chamber, with a staircase spiraling upward along the curved wall. The air smelled of dust and mold, with an underlying odour he couldn’t quite place. The scent of decay.

A sudden cry from above made Gorun jump. The sound was piercing, inhuman – it raised the hairs on the back of his neck. He tightened his sweaty grip on his sword as he began climbing the crumbling steps.

Emerging into the upper chamber, Gorun froze. Great holes in the walls and roof allowed pale light to filter in, revealing a nightmarish sight. Perched on a pile of rubble was a creature straight out of a legend.

It looked like a giant raven, but its feathers gleamed gold and crimson in the dim light. A Phoenix – Gorun remembered the tales now. They were rare and mystical creatures, said to be immortal, resurrecting from their own ashes. According to stories, they were benign, but this one’s aura pulsed with malice.

The Phoenix tossed its head, letting out another bone-chilling screech. Gorun stood paralyzed. The creature’s eyes glowed like hot coals as it spread its wings. With a sweep of air that nearly knocked Gorun from his feet, the Phoenix took flight.

Its mighty wingbeats stirred up dust and debris as it soared through one of the holes in the tower wall, disappearing into the sky in a flare of golden plumage. Gorun rushed to the opening, peering out. The Phoenix was rapidly dwindling in the distance.

Gorun’s heart pounded. Why had the Phoenix fled at the sight of him? And why had it been roosting in this old tower, so far from its natural desert habitat? None of this boded well.

Forcing down his nerves, Gorun hurried from the ruins to bring word back to the village. If the legends were true, the Phoenix was an immortal evil, defeated only temporarily. Someday it would resurrect to spread its malevolence anew.

Gorun had to convince the elders to prepare for that day. They had to research the creature, learn its weaknesses. When the Phoenix rose again, they would be ready. Though it may take generations, Gorun knew with grim certainty that one day their village would face the Phoenix again.

And on that day, he hoped his descendants would finally end the threat of this immortal evil, before its malice could spread across the land. The Phoenix would rise no more.