CHAPTER 75: The Invitation

CHAPTER 75: The Invitation

The hotel room was shrouded in gloom. Only the bluish light of the city filtered through the curtains, half-illuminating Phoenix's silhouette. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees and his hands covering his face. His breathing was ragged, as if he were fighting something suffocating him from within.

Enid, sitting beside him, watched with a serene expression, though a quiet sadness lingered in her eyes.

"It can't be..." murmured Phoenix, clenching his jaw. "That guy... that monster... my father? No. That's a lie, a fucking cruel joke."

"Phoenix..." whispered Enid, trying to touch his shoulder.

He jerked his hand away abruptly, as if afraid a single gesture of tenderness would shatter him completely.
"No! Don't say it! That bastard has nothing to do with me. I don't want him to. I don't want his shadow to even touch me."

Enid took a deep breath, trying to stay calm.
"I understand. I know what you're feeling... but, Phoenix, you have to listen to me."

"Listen to you?" Phoenix raised his head, his eyes red with contained rage. "What do you want me to hear? That my whole life was just the result of some monster's failed experiment? That my blood was rotten from the start?"

Enid looked down for a few seconds, but then met his gaze firmly.
"That's not it. It's... that now everything fits. Your resistance to the Über Lycan serum... it wasn't luck, or a miracle. It was because your body was prepared. Your genes didn't fight the serum, they adapted. That resistance came from him, Phoenix."

The silence grew heavier than any noise. Phoenix went still, as if those words had finished breaking something inside him. He lowered his head and laughed, a dry, empty, bitter laugh.

"Great," he spat sarcastically. "So I'm not strong because of me. I didn't survive because of who I am... but because I carry that damn murderer's legacy inside me. Everything I achieved... everything I thought was mine... is *his*!"

He stood up suddenly, pacing the room like a caged animal. He punched the wall, leaving a mark.
"No! I won't accept it! That monster is not my father. He never will be. I'd rather die than admit I share anything with him."

Enid watched him silently, her eyes glistening. Then she also stood and slowly approached him.
"Phoenix, look at me..." she said softly.

He shook his head, trembling with anger.
"No. I don't want to hear it."

"Phoenix..." she placed a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look up into her eyes. "No one chooses whose blood they inherit. But you did choose who you are. You are not him. You never will be."

Enid's voice was firm, but trembled with emotion.
"You want to know the truth? If your genes made you survive, it was only to give you the chance to be *you*, not his shadow. And who you are now... wasn't forged by Azazael. It was forged by you, with your wounds, with your choices, with everything you suffered."

Phoenix looked at her, his eyes wet, broken, but unable to let go of the rage eating him up inside.
"But... it's in me. His damn blood... runs in my veins..."

Enid rested her forehead against his, closing her eyes.
"Then let it run. And let that blood be consumed fighting against what he represents. That is your destiny. Not to be like him... but to defeat him."

Phoenix fell silent, breathing heavily, feeling his world collapsing yet sensing a spark of fire igniting deep within his chest.

A tense silence hung in the room. Phoenix still had his forehead against Enid's when a soft rustling sound pulled him from the moment: something slid under the door and came to rest on the carpet.

Enid turned her head and saw it: a thick, ivory-colored envelope with a black wax seal stamped with a strange symbol that looked like a pair of open wings.

"What the hell...?" muttered Phoenix, frowning.

Enid picked it up cautiously. The envelope was perfumed with a faint scent of burnt wood and old leather, a detail as imposing as it was unsettling. She carefully broke the wax and unfolded the letter.

Her soft voice began to read:

"Dear Phoenix: I know our first chat wasn't exactly... warm. Perhaps I was a bit harsh with you, but you see, that's just how I am. I don't like to sugarcoat things. However, I have a proposition for you: join me tomorrow night at the most expensive restaurant in Vladslavia. It will be a dinner between father and son... nothing more. Don't worry, there will be no blows or lessons. I just want to get to know you better, without witnesses, without interruptions. The place is discreet, though I'm sure you'll know which one it is: The Imperial. No need to reply. Just show up, if you have the courage."

Enid looked up from the letter. Phoenix's face was burning with contained fury. His fists trembled and his teeth ground together.

"Is he joking?!" he exploded, snatching the letter from her and crumpling it. "After all he did, how he humiliated me, how he treated me, now he wants me to sit down to dinner with him as if nothing happened?!"

He stood up, throwing the letter against the wall.
"Not a chance! I'm not going to any damn dinner with that monster! He can choke on his 'Imperial'!"

Enid remained calm, watching the storm within him. Then she walked slowly until she stood in front of Phoenix.
"I understand. And believe me, I wouldn't want to be in your place either. But listen to something, Phoenix..." her voice dropped a tone, becoming serious. "There are things you only learn by looking the enemy directly in the eyes."

Phoenix looked at her, his lips tight, his breathing erratic.

Enid held his gaze, firm, almost like an order disguised as advice.
"If you can't stand having dinner with him, how do you plan to defeat him?"

Those words pierced Phoenix's chest like blades. He lowered his head, swallowed, and remained silent for a few seconds, his rage transforming into a different, heavier fire.