Phoenix

The phoenix.
A majestic bird that dies at the end of every day and rises anew with the dawn… or so the story goes.

Except that’s not actually what the original myths say.

Greek sources never claimed the phoenix died daily. Instead, they described a creature that “outlived nine ravens”—a poetic way of saying it lived roughly 972 human lifetimes. Immortal by any reasonable standard, but hardly a sunrise-to-sunset affair.

Herodotus wrote that the phoenix was known to the Egyptians, who considered it sacred, though he believed it originated in Arabia. According to Herodotus, Pliny the Elder, Solinus, and Philostratus, the bird resembled an eagle. Once every five hundred years, when an old phoenix finally died, its successor would wrap the body in myrrh and carry it to the Temple of the Sun.

Herodotus, it should be noted, didn’t believe a word of it.

Other writers weren’t content with an eagle-sized bird. Lactantius and Ezekiel the Dramatist claimed the phoenix was even larger—larger than an ostrich. Meanwhile, artists and storytellers often imagined it closer to a crane or pheasant, sometimes resembling China’s golden pheasant more than any bird of prey.

The familiar image of the phoenix dying in flames came later. Early legends describe death and decomposition; combustion was a dramatic upgrade. The idea that the bird rose from ashes rather than mortal remains was later still, and the notion that this happened daily likely stems from the phoenix’s association with the sun rather than any ancient source.

Some myths even claimed the phoenix sacrificed itself to restore life to those who witnessed its death—possibly the origin of the belief that phoenix tears could heal the sick and injured. Beyond that, however, the phoenix wasn’t thought to possess much in the way of mystical powers. Resurrection was impressive enough.

Today, the phoenix endures as a symbol of renewal, rebirth, resilience, triumph over adversity, and the sun. Naturally, Christianity adopted it as well, assigning it meanings like consecration, resurrection, heaven, virginity, Christ, and Mary. Of course they did—it’s what they do.

Despite its fame, the phoenix appears less often in modern fiction than you might expect. Which brings us to Slipworld.

In the Slipworld, there are only seven phoenixes. They have existed since the beginning of the world and can take either human or avian form. When winged, they resemble something closer to a four-winged dinosaur—think Changyuraptor yangi—than any true bird.

Each phoenix lives a single mortal lifespan before dying and being reborn with a new face, a new name, and a new life. Their memories, however, remain fully intact. Each lifetime is called a char.

If a phoenix dies of old age, the cycle proceeds quietly. But if it dies from any other cause during a char, the body ignites at dusk, burns down to ash, and—when dawn’s light touches it—rises again as if nothing happened. So far, no one has discovered a limit to how often this can occur, though a few have tried.

And because this is urban fantasy, they can also wield fire.

Naturally.

If you want to learn more about the phoenixes of Slipworld—and see them in action—keep reading The Yip Jones Adventures.