The first thing Adonis felt was heat.

  Not reactor-heat. Not psionic-heat. Just the merciless, ordinary blaze of the desert sun pressing against his skin. His eyelids fluttered open and he squinted, staring up at a cracked thatch roof above him. The air smelled of dust, sweat, and goat dung.

  He tried to sit up—

  Pain lanced through his chest. His body felt wrong. Smaller. Weaker. Human.

  “Vantage…?” His voice cracked, young, thin.

  > Alive, the ASI replied, its tone steady but quieter than usual. But diminished. Our systems are compromised. Neural structure has… shifted.

  Adonis groaned. “Shifted? I feel like somebody patch-noted my whole existence.” He lifted his hands to his face. They weren’t claws. They weren’t plated gauntlets. They were slender, dark-skinned human hands, calloused in a way he didn’t recognize.

  He pushed himself to the corner of the hut, heart pounding. A shard of polished bronze sat on the floor — a villager’s mirror. He grabbed it, tilted it, and froze.

  The reflection staring back was a boy. Brown skin. Untamed curls matted with sand. Faint golden flickers in the irises that pulsed when he blinked. He looked sixteen. Maybe younger.

  Adonis dropped the mirror with a clatter. “No. Nope. Absolutely not. I was piloting Zion-Prime a week ago. I was older than dirt before that. And now… puberty?”

  > Adaptation required, Vantage said flatly. This body is functional. It is… survivable.

  “Survivable? Bro, I look like I’m about to get grounded for missing curfew.”

  ***

  The door creaked.

  Adonis snapped his head up just as a pair of wide-eyed villagers peeked into the hut. A man and woman, sun-worn and lean, clutching clay bowls. Their language was rough, guttural, but he understood it — some instinctive translation bleeding through his mind.

  “—the boy is awake.”

  Boy. The word burned.

  The woman stepped forward, setting the bowl down — water, flatbread, figs. She bowed her head slightly, though her eyes lingered on the faint glow still flickering in his pupils. “Eat. You need strength.”

  Adonis opened his mouth, then closed it again. He caught himself. To them, he wasn’t a Sphinx. He wasn’t a pilot. He was just a scrawny kid they found half-dead in the dunes.

  > Maintain cover, Vantage urged in his mind. They believe you are sixteen. Exploit this assumption. Appear harmless.

  Adonis bit the bread slowly, glaring into the corner as the villagers whispered outside.

  Sixteen. A boy.

  Let them think it.

  But deep inside, beneath the fragile flesh, something ancient stirred.

  And when the time came, the world would see what kind of “boy” he really was.

  ***

  The sun outside nearly blinded him. Adonis lifted a hand against the glare, blinking as he stepped from the hut into the open.

  The village was small — barely fifty huts of sunbaked clay and straw, huddled together in a loose ring. A crooked well sat at the center, where women hauled water with frayed ropes and clay jars. Goats bleated from a pen on the outskirts. Children chased each other barefoot in the dust, their laughter thin but real.

  And above it all, the desert stretched endless — dunes rolling like frozen waves, broken only by the jagged skeleton of a ruined stone arch far off to the east.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  “Primitive,” Adonis muttered under his breath. “Iron tools, no walls, no irrigation. If a sandstorm came through, half of this place would be buried.”

  > Correct, Vantage agreed in his head. Population: approximately one hundred. Food stores: insufficient. Infrastructure: fragile.

  Adonis smirked. “You sound like a city inspector.”

  > Observation: this would not pass inspection.

  ***

  As he walked, villagers stared. Some whispered. To them he was still just “the boy from the dunes.” A curiosity. A burden. Maybe even a curse.

  A young man stepped in front of him suddenly, arms crossed. His hair was cropped short, his frame wiry but tense. The look in his eyes was sharp — like someone who’d been waiting for a fight.

  “You’re the stray they dragged in,” he said. His voice carried the mix of suspicion and challenge.

  Adonis tilted his head. “And you are…?”

  The boy didn’t answer. Just held his gaze a moment longer before snorting and walking away.

  > Local youth. High probability of eventual hostility, Vantage murmured.

  “Or an ally,” Adonis said aloud, earning a confused glance from a passing farmer.

  ***

  He continued the loop, taking stock.

  Huts: Cramped, hot, and brittle. Easy to collapse, easy to rebuild.

  Well: The only water source. Already straining to meet demand.

  Fields: Sparse patches of barley and figs on the edges, watered by hand.

  Defenses: None. No wall, no watchtower, just fear of Dragon patrols keeping them obedient.

  To anyone else, this was survival. To Adonis, it was opportunity.

  With a flicker of psionic will, he brushed his fingers through the sand. It shifted, almost instinctively, grains forming lines like half-remembered glyphs before scattering again.

  His lips curved.

  “Base-building, huh?” he muttered. “Guess I finally got my tutorial village.”

  > Caution, Vantage warned. Overt displays will draw unwanted attention.

  “Relax. I’m not building a pyramid—yet.” His eyes lingered on the ruined stone arch far off in the dunes. Something about it whispered of the old world. His old world. Hieroglyphs of power, waiting to be reawakened.

  He knew, without a doubt, where he’d be living.

  Here, in this forgotten village.

  Here, where sand and stone would answer his call.

  ***

  Adonis finished his circuit of the village, unimpressed. Huts. Goats. Barley patches that barely deserved the name. A few sharpened sticks leaned in a pile near the goat pen — their idea of weapons.

  Pathetic.

  But workable.

  As he stood near the village well, debating how long it would take him to turn the whole place into a fortress if he actually cared, he noticed two figures watching him from the shade of a crumbling wall.

  They were twins. That much was obvious.

  Both had skin the color of sand at dusk, but their hair was startling — white locs that caught the sunlight like strands of silver. Their grey eyes were sharper still, unsettling in the way they seemed to see through him. The boy carried himself with the coiled tension of a fighter, fists clenched at his sides. The girl’s presence was softer, calmer, but her gaze was no less piercing.

  The boy stepped forward first. “So you’re the stray.” His tone carried no welcome.

  Adonis raised an eyebrow. “That’s twice today I’ve heard that word. Stray. You people talk like I’m a dog.”

  “You showed up half-dead in the dunes,” the boy shot back. “If the desert didn’t kill you, it probably cursed you. Which means you’ll bring trouble to the rest of us.”

  The girl touched her brother’s arm. “Kalen,” she said gently. “That’s enough.”

  He clicked his tongue but didn’t back away.

  She stepped forward, offering Adonis a clay cup of water. Her voice was softer, but steadier than her brother’s. “I’m Selene. This is my twin, Kalen. The others are… wary of you. But you can stay, at least for now.”

  Adonis took the cup, studying her carefully. “Selene and Kalen,” he repeated. “Let me guess: he glares, you apologize. That’s the dynamic?”

  Selene almost smiled. Kalen scowled harder.

  Adonis sipped the water, then said, “Fine. You can call me Adonis.”

  “Adonis,” Selene echoed, testing the name. “Strange. Doesn’t sound like our tongue.”

  “It isn’t.” His golden-flecked eyes met hers for just a second longer than necessary. Then he glanced back at Kalen. “Relax. I’m not cursed. Just unlucky.”

  “Unlucky is dangerous,” Kalen muttered.

  Adonis smirked. “So is underestimating people.”

  For a moment, the three of them stood in silence, the desert wind curling dust around their feet.

  ***

  > Potential allies, Vantage murmured in his head. Their physiology is… unusual. White hair pigmentation. Grey ocular mutation. Perhaps hereditary.

  They’re just kids, Adonis thought back. But maybe the kind I can actually stand.

  ***

  Selene broke the silence first. “You’ll be staying with us. The elders decided it. Our home has space.”

  Adonis blinked. “Wait—you’re inviting me to live with you?”

  Kalen groaned. “I didn’t decide it.”

  Selene ignored him. “You need a place, and we’ll watch you better than most.”

  Adonis looked from her steady expression to Kalen’s clenched fists and laughed under his breath. “Perfect. The desert wants me dead, the village thinks I’m cursed, and now I’m roommates with twins who glare and smile in shifts. Just my luck.”

  He tossed back the last of the water, handed the cup to Selene, and smirked.

  “Lead the way."

  ***

  The heat shimmered over the dunes when the horns sounded.

  The villagers froze. Even the goats went silent. Everyone knew that sound — Dragons.

  Adonis, still standing by the well with Kalen and Selene, watched as the elders rushed to gather tribute: sacks of grain, water jars, even iron tools. Faces tightened with fear. Mothers pulled their children close.

  Kalen cursed under his breath. “Patrols. Out here. Why?”

  Selene’s hand found her brother’s arm. “Don’t draw attention.”

  The villagers lined up as the patrol crested the dune.

  They came not as dragons in full form — but in their human guises. Three of them, tall and regal, cloaked in scale-etched armor that shimmered with their true colors: crimson, obsidian, and emerald. Even in human form, their eyes burned — slitted pupils that scanned the village like predators.

  Behind them trudged a handful of human soldiers, chainmail clinking, spears pointed outward.

  Adonis muttered under his breath. “Cosplaying gods.”

  > Correction, Vantage whispered in his mind. High-tier threats. Probability of fatality if confronted: ninety-eight percent.

  “Still toddlers yelling at adults,” Adonis replied softly.

  Kalen overheard, glaring at him. “Shut up. You don’t understand—”

  The lead Dragon spoke, voice like fire rolling over stone. “People of the desert. A Phoenix has fled into these lands. She is dangerous, and she is ours. If you shelter her, we will know. If you resist, you will burn.”

  A ripple of fear moved through the villagers.

  Phoenix. The word carried weight. Even Adonis felt a stir — something ancient in the back of his mind, a recognition of fire that was not draconic.

  The crimson Dragon’s gaze swept the crowd, lingering on faces, searching for guilt.

  Adonis felt Selene tense beside him. Her hand brushed his sleeve — subtle, but enough to make him glance. Her grey eyes flicked toward the edge of the village.

  There, half-hidden by the crumbled stone arch, stood a girl. Dark hair loose around her shoulders. A cloak drawn tig

  ht. But even from here, Adonis could feel it: the heat under her skin.

  Not Dragon-fire. Something sharper. Cleaner. Eternal.

  The Phoenix.

  And in that moment, Adonis knew the patrol would find her. And if they did, the entire village would burn.