Soft, deep humming fills the bedroom. A short, thin Chinese man with hair as white as snow places a damp, white cloth on the forehead of a young man. He brushes the younger man's chocolate curls from his face and turns back around. The man continues to hum as he prepares a paste with herbs on the table next to the bed.

The young man lays on the bed, completely still. He is still breathing, but his mind is not awake. He is not dreaming nor is he asleep, he is in complete stillness and nothingness.

The comatose man's tan skin still holds it's youthful glow. His soft features appear as though he is in complete and utter relaxation. The corners of his lips are curved up in the tiniest bit.

"Majestic is the Phoenix, awesome is his might," the old man mutters to himself. "Turn away and you will lose his sight. Once gone will appear afar, when he is needed you will know. Never will he appear as foe." He places down his pestle and raises the mortar towards the sky. He wills his eyes to change from black to completely white.

His eyelids close and he continues his chant, "The many faces of the bird, will not deter his nobleness. Leading with his heart and head, out of the darkness our souls can rest. The many faces of the bird, will not deter his nobleness."

The man rises from his chair. "Leading with his heart and head, out of the darkness our souls can rest." He begins to walk over to the young man laying on his bed, his eyes still closed, "If you choose to follow through, the Greatness will be as promised."

When he opens his eyes, they are back to their true color. The old man dips his fingertips into the paste. "Out of the dirt, we will shine." He slips his fingers under the washcloth and rubs the paste into his forehead.

"And from the ashes, our King will rise," he says a little louder.

As soon as the last syllable leaves his lips the young man shoots up in the bed. His eyes glow the brightest, almost blinding color of orange.

The old man immediately falls to his knees before him. "My king." But the young man does not respond.

After seconds of silence, the old man looks up from the ground to see the man whom he called his king, with eyes the color of a night sky without any stars. He quickly stands from the ground, whispering to himself, "Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Not now. This isn't supposed to happen yet. Not yet."

His hands shake as he slowly backs away from the bed, reaching for a cellphone that sits on the desk behind him, his eye still trained on the statute king.

The second half of the divine prophecy enters his head, consuming the entirety of his thoughts. Amazing is the Phoenix

its power is unmeasured

be careful and keep it treasured

a sack of pearls

a single stained in ink

never will it appear as they think

While the power for good

certainly resides in true

the power for evil

is easily brewed

one in a millennia

is all it takes

for the fate of mortal and mystical

to become completely erased

He hastily dials a number into the cellphone. For a few seconds, all that can be heard is the soft hum coming from the device, but then, a voice finally comes through.

"What is it?"

"Percival, there is a problem." The old man's hands shake. "The second part of the prophecy has started."

<><><>

The door swings open and Percival rushes in, his black hair sticking up in almost every direction and his clothes the same as what he wore when he was captured all those weeks ago.

He breathes heavy, and his eyes glance around wildly until they land on the boy who lays in the bed. "Jiho?" He says, beginning to walk to the side of the bed. "What did you see? How do you know? Are you certain?" He bombards the older man with questions; his back turned to him since his full attention is on the pale, Italian boy who lays in the bed, unconscious and unmoving.

"His eyes became consumed with darkness." Jiho begins. "There was a shift in the air, his aura fluctuated." He walks to the other side of the bed so that he stands directly opposite of the younger Asian man. "And the dates align."

Percival's head snaps up, his eyes already wide. "It's the fifth of November already?"

Jiho nods. "Yes, the boy is now nineteen, the age of the others when they had their trials."

"Yes, but the others' trials were simple. Painless." Percival tells him. "Are you sure you're still sensitive to the spiritual plane?"

Jiho frowns. "If you don't trust my abilities then why come here! This is just blatant disrespect at this point!" He yells furiously. "You should be wiser than that, you are older than me after all!" He swats his hand in the air like he wants to hit Percival, but he's too far away to reach him.

Percival stares at him, unfazed. His mind swimming with more thoughts than he can possibly process, even as a supernatural being. In all of these hundreds of years of living, this is the first time in a very long time that he is surprised—miffed. He has seen many Phoenixes battle the darkness Jiho had described, but usually, it isn't like this. Their aura's stay intact the whole time.

"It-" Jiho frowns. "It could just be a test. Like the spirits are testing him. The prophecy is so rare, so statistically, it's basically improbable anyway." He shakes his head, even unsure of his owns words. His sensitivity to the spirit plane allows him to sense pure and dark energies, and there is no doubt that a shroud of darkness surrounds the young Phoenix.

With a hefty sigh, Percival places his hands on top of his head and looks into Jiho's dark eyes. "What do we do?"

Jiho huffs, "How am I supposed to know? You're the one that's hundreds of years old! Aren't you supposed to have all the information, o' ancient one?" He places his hands on his hips, an interesting sight to say the least—an old man calling one that appears younger, "ancient."

"Try fifteen hundred," Percival says deadpanned. "It'll be sixteen before you're dead."

"Could you at least try to be helpful, please? The issue at hand is quite dire," Jiho sighs and runs a hand down his wrinkled skin that was once supple, but now littered with sunspots.

Percival clicks his tongue and paces the room on the other side of the bed. "I suppose we just wait this out. We don't know for sure yet what is happening inside of him. For all we know, he could fight off the darkness before he even wakes." He stops and rubs his chin. "And if worse comes to worst, it is my duty to protect the Phoenix, and the world from him if it so comes to that."

Jiho nods. "And you think you can kill a Phoenix? That doesn't sound like a light task."

"Leave that to me. Let's not prematurely expect the worst, but instead, be prepared. I'll have a plan if all goes awry. But let's pray it does not." Percival looks up to meet his eyes. "Or God help us all."

Jiho's eyes widen and his hands begin to shake at his sides, so he clasps them together. He gasps and his irises take a purple hue. He turns his head to look at Tony. The dark cloud violently moves around his aura, flashes of light, and bursts of energy coming from within. "There is a battle going on inside his soul." With a flash of light, Jiho becomes temporarily blind, and every light in the room burst, leaving them all in darkness.

Jiho blinks and he narrows his eyes, trying to make sense of what he is seeing.

Tony nows sits up in the bed, his eyes glowing a vibrant blue and the surface of his skin glittering from the sheen of embers now covering his entire body.

Percival steps forward at the sight of the bedsheets beginning to smoke. He touches the bed and instantly the smoke stops and the light emitting from the teenage boy diminishes.

Tony shivers from the cold suddenly nipping at his skin and he looks around the dark room. He holds up a hand and wills a flame to appear. He squints at the man who stands close to him. "Percival?" His voice cracks.

"Yes, it is me, my King. I am here." Percival kneels.

Jiho also kneels causing Tony to look over at the old man on the other side of the room. "I..." Tony begins to say, but doesn't know what to say. Then, he remembers. "Daisy. Jensen. Alec, where are they?" He begins to stand but Percival pushes him back down on the bed.

"Do not concern yourself with that right now, please. Right now, you need to focus on recovering your spirit."

"Huh?" Tony frowns. "I feel perfectly fine. Let me go." His voice expresses his annoyance and the flame in his hand grows.

"Jiho, fetch some new lightbulbs if you would please," Percival says, not taking his eyes on the young Phoenix king.

Jiho stands and nods, bowing slightly. "Of course, I'll be right back." He then leaves the room.

Tony throws the bedsheets off of his legs to reveal his legs covered by a pair of pants he had never seen before. He looks down at his chest to see a matching black top that looked similar to a toga. He picks at the fabric. "What am I wearing?" He asks and then looks up to point at the door. "And who was that?" His eyes find Percival's. "And where the hell am I?"

Percival sighs. "You are wearing what is called modern hanbok. That was Jiho, an Aurial. And you are at Jiho's home, where he had kindly been looking after you for the last two weeks, keeping you safe."

"Aurial?" Tony blurts out. The name doesn't ring a bell. He knows everything about the supernatural world, so why doesn't he know about this.

He nods. "There are only a handful of them every century. They are also pretty rare and hardly appear outside of Asia. They can sense and heal aura's and well as spirits. They are like doctors for supernatural issues."

Tony's eyebrows rise on his forehead. "Oh, okay..." His head tilts to the side. "Is there something wrong with me? I feel perfectly fine."

"Uh," Percival takes a step back and looks off, not meeting his eyes. "That is something we should discuss." He nods, his mouth pulling into a straight line.