I frown at my grandmother, confused. "What is a Zhar-ptitsa?"

"It is a fire bird, often called a Phoenix. But in Russia, it's known as the Zhar-ptitsa. There are many stories about it." She frowns and her voice turn reverent. "I didn't even know Zhar-ptitsas existed. No one has ever seen them."

"But it's real?"

My grandmother looks up at me, her expressions still filled with awe. "Oh yes. I would know this anywhere, despite having never seen them before. How did you get this?"

"Do you remember what I said about all the gifts around my room?" My grandmother nods. "The egg was one of them, along with a note saying it has been waiting for me for a long time."

My grandmother frowns in confusion. "What does that mean?"

I shrug at her. "I don't know, Babushka. I really don't."

As if something else was controlling me, I run a gentle finger over the shell of the Zhar-ptitsa egg. There is the slightest shift of movement from inside it, and I draw my finger back, trembling slightly. Is it going to hatch soon? I carefully nestle the egg back into the Fabergé egg before placing it back into the jeweled chest. The moment I place the chest on the table in front of the couch, Sekret crawls into my lap, happy that I am now on the couch with her. I let out an oomph of air leaving me when she burrows into my stomach, but she just gives me a doggy grin. I laugh at her and start to stroke her soft fur. Then I look up at my grandmother.

"Babushka? I have a question."

"What is it, Calli?"

I drop my voice as quiet as it can go, still allowing my Grandmother to hear me. "Before, you said that you would have told me about my heritage when it was safe, what did you mean by that?"

Her sad smile carries hints of lingering sorrow and pain, from moments long ago. "You know what happened to my family, correct?"

I nod. "Yes, the Bolsheviks."

"They know I lived. They had dumped my body with that of my brother, in a rush to leave. I was still weak by the time they sent someone back to bury us. There were two guards, I remember that. Ivan, and one other guard."

I gasp. "Do you mean Praded?"

"Yes, Ivan later became my husband. He saved me then, but he knocked out the other guard. We later learned that when that guard woke, he went right to the Bolsheviks and told them of my escape, and what Ivan had done. The Bolsheviks are still looking for me now, or more accurately, they're looking for my descendants. For who would expect that I would still be alive after all this time, a hundred and seventeen year old lady?" She sighs and frowns darkly. "You're in the most danger of the entire family, Calli."

"Why?"

"You're the spitting image of me. If they saw you, they would know in an instant."

"Why won't they let it go, Babushka?"

"I think it's for two reasons. They think we can regain power, which could possibly be true, but that also depends on if we want to do that and if we think it's needed for the good of the country. It's also a matter of pride for them. They wanted to kill us all, and didn't. They feel like they must finish the job."

I am about to open my mouth to ask another question when Sekret lifts her head up and barks. I look up, and see a man staring at us through the window, clad in dark red clothes. My grandmother curses and steps at me.

"Calli, get back!"

I don't hesitate, grabbing the chest with the Zhar-ptitsa egg in one hand and the scruff of Sekret's neck in the other as I move back against the wall and the passageway to the bunker beyond. My grandmother opens a secret compartment in the wall and pulls out a handgun. She steps toward the door, just as the man breaks through it, a gun of his own in hand. He raises his hand to his ear before speaking.

"I found them, the last of the Romanovs. They're at-."

My grandmother doesn't waste any time, taking his moment of distraction from speaking to shoot. The bullet hits him in the side, and he lets out a cry of pain. He raises his own gun, and pulls the trigger, aiming not at my grandmother but at me. I freeze in fear, fingers locked around Sekret's scruff as she strains to go after him, growling menacingly. Just as he pulls the trigger, my grandmother shoots him again in the arm, causing him to flinch. Instead of hitting me in the chest, his bullet lands a foot to my right, cresting a hole in the wall. He tries to shoot again, but my grandmother's shot has wrecked his arm, he can't hold it steady. She shoots him again, right in the center of his chest, at his heart. He falls at last, but my grandmother doesn't move from her spot with her gun pointed at him until she is sure he won't move again. Then she rushes over to me.
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Okay, I was not expecting that at all. What do you guys think? Will the other Bolsheviks figure out exactly where they are? Tell me your thoughts!

Thank you psychowolf725 for reminding me of my promise to continue with this story. I got so distracted with NaNoWriMo and Stars of Memory and then with my Sea Monster Saga that I forgot all about my promise. Thank you for reminding me! Virtual hugs and cookies to you.

I've also got to admit that it is really weird writing this again. I've written over 100k words in my other stories, all in third-person omnipotent, so to be writing in first person again is quite strange.

Happy reading, and I'll see you next chapter(hopefully tomorrow)

~Goddess of Fate, signing out.