All that is...I am.

I was born with the first fire, and shall remain until the last celestial spark is extinguished.

Nothing that lives is not touched by a part of me. The stars are my children, and nothing is more cherished than those which have in turn spawned life. High above the third orb, called the Earth, a construct tumbles through the dark, while another smaller vehicle plunges recklessly towards its homeworld, fleeing the wild energies of a solar flare surging invisibly outwards from the sun.

There are noble souls within, and doomed as well. Among them, the reason for my presence.

[The Phoenix approaches the shuttle]

....

The child's will far outstrips her strength. She knows this...and the beginnings of fear as well. Flesh withers under the savage onslaught. Yet her spirit soars--higher, more fiercely defiant, than ever.

...

Be not afraid. No harm is meant.

"Voice--like music in my mind--who, what, are you?!?"

The sum and substance of life and hope and dreams.

All that is, is known to me. I have known you from the moment of your conception--as I have known the universe.

You cried out for aid. I heard. I came.

"This is crazy. I'M crazy."

No more than any finite being confronting the infinite. Your form, child, is so fragile. How can you possibly endure?

"I must!"

To save your friends. And, most especially--

"That image, cast from my soul. Oh, my love, I've never seen you look so beautiful. The essence of my hopes and dreams--all that almost was--will never be. My innermost secrets--yearnings--how could you possibly know--?!"

My consciousness, my form and its ability to communicate on this plane of existence derive directly from you. They provide an...awareness of your dominant emotions and memories.

"Oh great. You mean you're a figment of my imagination?"

You jest, yet what is imagination, save the ability to conceive of that which is beyond reality. You are human. I am of creation.

[The Phoenix begins to take a female human shape.]

"What's happening? You're changing, assuming a tangible shape. You're becoming me!"

A shell, nothing more. And only for the present. Your own physicality cannot easily be restored. For its own protection, your mind refuses to acknowledge the full extent of your injuries. Your existence is far closer to transition than you realize.

"Not dying then, already dead. Hanging on--barely--by force of will alone... What do you want of me?"

You called, child of man. And I, mother of the stars, answered. It is for you to name your heart's desire.

"And I'll get my wish, just like that. Why do I suspect that's too good to be true?"

All things have their price.

"What's mine?"

Does that matter?

"Yes!"

I am glad. Take my hands, child, that we two may become one. Your humanity, my power--bonded by passion, tempered by love. The ultimate force, at last given means to express itself.

Be warned--the fire I offer can burn as well as warm. Destroy as well as heal. And it always consumes. The glory I offer is transcendent; likewise, the danger and the flame, once taken, can never be extinguished.

"The power--it's too much--beyond comprehension. Suppose I can't handle--I'm not worthy. How can I accept?!"

You know that answer already, else you would not have summoned me.

"I'm afraid."

With good reason.

Death is the certainty--the end to all burdens, all responsibilities, life the greatest of unknowns. Each day, every moment, contains risk. Safety--and perhaps peace--can be found only in the grave. I may be salvation--or damnation--or both. Which now is your heart's desire?

"To save my friends, I'd dance with the devil himself! And I want to live."

All things are possible, child. And you may yet dance with the devil without...and the far more terrible one within...