jorgepratt@prodigy.net.mx

		Song of the Phoenix: Aria, by Jorge A. Pratt



The door closed with a slam, and she ran.
	She had so very little time. Even though she knew they would 
still be sound asleep, she was sure they would find out in a matter of 
minutes. Already they had thwarted her several times, and she was not 
going to let anyone stop her now.
	The patter of her bare feet was the only sound in the darkened 
streets. Sunrise would arrive soon, and with it, she hoped, a new 
chance to set things right... to make sure everything was back to the 
way it was so many years ago. In light of this, despite the dread of 
almost-certain death that plagued her, she couldn't help but feel giddy 
with expectation, grinning a bit wider with each of her strides.
	A light, almost imperceptible drizzle descended to cleanse her 
as she arrived at her destination. For one instant, she felt an 
overwhelming chill wash upon her --she knew, at that moment, that she 
was alone. No one would be near to hear her cries if anything went 
wrong. No one would assist her with the slightest encouragement, or 
even a whispered cheer. And for that brief eternity, she felt truly 
afraid.
	But the fright was swept away by the rain, as quickly as it had 
come. Even if she were alone, all for the better: no one would try to 
stop her, to keep her from her goal... and, if she succeeded, sharing 
this solitude would be a reward for both of them.
	Elated by this knowledge, she armed herself with all the 
courage she could muster and stepped into the vacant lot. Every step 
she took forward, her feet oblivious of the ground beneath them, 
increased her confidence. How she wished to see that person again, to 
say that everything would be all right now, that she had no more 
doubts about anything anymore...
	As she reached the center of the lot, she spared a final glance 
around the vicinity to make sure nobody was near. Satisfied, she 
spread her arms, dropping the small satchel she had brought. With a 
huff, she fastened the sash around her waist and rolled up her sleeves, 
pausing only to run her fingers slowly over the inch-wide bracelet of 
gold that hung from her left wrist. With a sigh, she dismissed whatever 
thoughts had passed through her mind and knelt, opening the satchel.
	Carefully, almost in reverence, she retrieved a worn, dog-
eared photograph --a picture taken at the Tendou Dojo, before it all 
started going wrong-- along with a small harp that seemed to have 
been fashioned out of sunbeams and starlight. She knew it to have 
been that person's most prized possession --and hers as well, for the 
past few weeks. But the instrument would not evoke music from the 
past anymore: it would only help her bring forth a new dawn.
	She set the harp on the ground before her, the photograph at 
its base, and stood up. Its strings glistened: shimmering tears 
suspended in gossamer threads. With one last nod of reassurance, she 
stepped back and closed her eyes, invoking that song she knew by 
heart.
	It was almost instantaneous. The music flowed around her, 
through her; she could immediately remember the voice, the scent. The 
magic of the song, bolstered by the echo from the harp, suffused her 
entire world, turning it into a golden radiance of potential and 
possibility. She grasped it tight and then, with her memories as a 
backdrop, she let her own inner light surge out from her body in the 
shape of a majestic aura of chi.
	Everyone in the family, awake or not, would have noticed 
that. Time to hurry.
	The aura that spread from her figure soon illuminated the 
entire lot. The harp rose from the ground, causing the photograph to 
flutter in the intense winds caused by her vital forces. Then, as though 
the music itself took material form, soft breaths of every shade of the 
spectrum spread out from the strings. They spiraled around her, 
tugging at her clothes and hair; pulling her arms this way and that; 
pulling her free of gravity and lifting her face to greet the heavens.
	Distantly, she could feel Ranma's presence. He and her sister 
had finally realized she was missing --no doubt they would be here any 
moment. And? _she_ was with them, too. But it didn't matter... she 
was so close to the end, she could almost touch it...
	There was a soft rumble that shook the vicinity, and she 
grimaced in discomfort. Her forehead throbbed like a second heartbeat 
as the chaotic strands of magic tried to ground themselves there. 
Instants later, her shirt burst open as a radiant flame burned from her 
chest, and she cried out in pain as if she were being torn asunder. It 
was so intense! She never thought it would be like this. Her body 
almost failed her then, and she faltered in her confidence, yet it was 
too late to stop now. Something deep in her soul shrieked, and her 
voice could no longer sing but scream, her mind a world of endless, 
burning pain. But then, as the... was it a technique? Or a spell...?
	No, it was neither. It was simply a call. A call devised to 
pierce through the veil and that which lay beyond the ether. A call 
meant for one person alone.
	And she was the Caller.
	As the Calling reached its critical point, its energies could no 
longer remain confined to the mere spectacle of light and matter. She 
distinctly heard Ranma arrive at the vacant lot, his voice almost 
breaking as he cried out to her. And at that precise moment, the harp 
dropped like a stone and all sounds, all light, and all energy surged 
back forcefully into her small, frail body, igniting it like a small Sun.
	She screamed out yet again, every cell that composed her 
crying in unison. Only Akane's shriek of horror matched her own.
	A great column of blinding incandescence erupted beneath 
her feet, reaching far beyond sight and flinging all those around like 
leaves in a storm. There was one final shout of "NO!" of voices male 
and female, but she no longer heard it. She heard nothing more, as the 
spark upon her chest consumed her in a bonfire of golden flames.
	And thus, with the first lights of aurora, a bird of pure fire 
rose upon the ward of Nerima.