63 pages 2-hour read

Firebird

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 2025

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Themes

The Relationship Between Fate and Free Will

Content Warning: This section of the guide includes discussion of gender discrimination, sexual violence, graphic violence, sexual content, death, physical abuse, and emotional abuse.


Malina and Julian’s relationship explores the tension between fate and free will, as do the power structures of Rome and the role of prophecy and divine intervention. The novel presents a world where dragons and humans alike wrestle with the question of whether their lives are determined by their own choices or by magic, bloodlines, and the gods.


From the beginning, fate exerts a powerful influence over Malina’s life. As a Dacian girl with empathic powers descended from Medusa, Malina believes she survived a Roman massacre for a reason. She remembers Bunica’s words: “You, my darling Mina, will hold the world in your thrall […] You, and your sisters, will save us all” (50). She initially believes her purpose is to aid the Gauls but then feels unmoored when captured. Malina’s gifts feel like destiny to her, but as the novel progresses, she questions that fatalistic belief. Her evolving view illustrates her developing understanding of how, despite her gift, her life is largely determined by free will: She has the power to choose a new path, even after trauma.


Julian, too, confronts fate, in the form of his bloodline. As the emperor’s nephew and a red Ignis dragon, his life is shaped by duty, legacy, and expectation. He refers to Malina as his “fated mate,” a bond that dragons accept as predetermined, but he exercises agency in how he approaches that fate. Rather than simply “claiming” Malina, he waits for her consent and supports her autonomy, revealing that fate may guide love, but choice sustains it. His decision to rebel against Caesar demonstrates another powerful rejection of the path laid before him, illustrating Julian’s power to shape his own future despite the fate outlined by his family.


Cross further complicates the theme by intertwining mythology and prophecy throughout the narrative. The tale of Aurelia, the golden dragon who chose death over forced marriage to an emperor, becomes a symbol to Malina of the power of free will. Like Aurelia, Malina must decide whether she is bound by history and legend or she can forge her own future. Her eventual plea to Minerva, offering her magic in exchange for protection and justice, reveals that she accepts both fate and free will as intertwined forces. She honors the gods but demands power over her own choices.


The societal structure of Rome itself also reflects the struggle between fate and free will. Low-born dragonborn like Stefanos are condemned to death by law, deemed dangerous by blood, not action. Julian defies that fate, hiding and raising Stefanos as a child worthy of protection. Similarly, the other enslaved characters in Julian’s home (Kara, Ruskus, and Ivo) each find a new identity and safety under Julian’s roof despite a world that sees them as disposable. With Julian’s treatment of the enslaved people in his household, he defies the government that says their fates are predetermined, offering them a different life and illustrating, once again, his ability to make his own choices.


These elements all underscore the novel’s argument: Fate may set the stage, but free will defines the outcome. Firebird portrays fate not as a rigid map but as a framework. Characters like Malina and Julian are shaped by prophecy, heritage, and divine influence, but their most meaningful actions—love, rebellion, and sacrifice—are born of choice. Cross suggests that freedom does not lie in escaping fate but in choosing how to meet it.

Resisting Conquest Through Quiet Rebellion

By setting Firebird in the brutal hierarchy of Rome, Cross explores how characters resist domination in personal, political, and cultural spheres, particularly through the lens of gender. Women like Malina and Camilla are perceived as conquests and denied control of their own bodies, minds, and powers. Both women actively rebel in distinct and powerful ways, reframing the meaning of resistance against a system designed to control them.


Malina’s rebellion is not a single moment but a layered process that evolves to be both personal and political. Rome is an empire built on conquest, and its expansionist appetite devours territories like Dacia and Gaul, crushing local cultures beneath Roman military might. These conquests are not merely land grabs but cultural erasures: Those who survive are enslaved, assimilated, or destroyed. Although Malina is directly impacted by this attitude when Roman soldiers raze her Dacian village, she responds by dancing defiantly despite the Roman presence, signaling that she will not be easily subdued. Later, while enslaved in Julian’s household, Malina constantly resists being treated as property, even when she grows to trust and love Julian. She subtly uses her empathic powers to fight back, filling soldiers with fear, overwhelming her enemies with nausea, and asserting control in situations where her voice is otherwise silenced. Though the world sees her as a spoil of war or a political bargaining chip, Malina refuses that role. Her rebellion is strategic and often invisible, but no less fierce for it.


Malina’s methods of rebellion continue to escalate when Caesar demands Julian trade Malina to Ciprian Media Nocte Seneca, a rival who sees her only as a tool to humiliate Julian. The rawest form of patriarchal conquest marks Ciprian’s household: Women are dressed in sheer togas, stripped of dignity, and trained to serve male desires. Malina’s rebellion escalates in this setting, and she tampers with Ciprian’s body using her powers, defies his commands, and, most significantly, enacts spiritual resistance. At the temple of Minerva, she offers to return her magic to the goddess in exchange for divine protection, drawing strength from female mythology in a world that has tried to erase it. She also derives inspiration from the story of Aurelia, the last golden dragon who burned herself alive rather than marry an emperor, mirroring Malina’s refusal to be conquered.


Camilla, Julian’s aunt, represents a different kind of rebellion. A Vicus dragon and former priestess of Vesta, Camilla was abducted by her brother Caesar and has remained in dragon form, silent and unreachable, for seven years. Though she never speaks in the novel, her unyielding transformation symbolizes protest. She refuses to return to human form because to do so would mean engaging with a world that violated her. Caesar attempted to possess and control Camilla, but like Aurelia, she chooses obliteration over obedience. Her rebellion is existential, as she renders herself untouchable and unreachable to reclaim agency.


Firebird argues that the act of resisting conquest, whether through sword, silence, or sorcery, is not only brave but transformational. In a society that reduces people to roles, the choice to rebel becomes an assertion of humanity. Cross elevates female resistance to a form of sacred power, drawing on myth, memory, and magic to show that the greatest rebellions often begin with saying no in a world that only wants yes.

The Morality of Power and Domination

Firebird explores the brutal relationship between power and morality, asking whether domination can ever be just and what responsibility comes with wielding influence over others. The novel exposes the fine line between protector and tyrant and the complex ethical terrain between enslaver and enslaved, and ruler and subject. Through the contrasting choices of characters like Julian, Caesar, and Malina, Cross examines how power, whether physical, political, or emotional, can corrupt, liberate, or redeem, depending on how it is used.


The emperor, Igniculus Ignis Dakkia, or Caesar, represents absolute and immoral domination. He inherits the power of Rome and immediately reshapes it into a dictatorship ruled by fear and spectacle. His reforms force all low-born dragonborn children into death or servitude, eliminating any notion of inherent worth or mercy. Caesar stages elaborate banquets that degrade his enemies, uses sex and violence as public punishments, and erases dissent through execution or propaganda. In this way, Cross presents domination as inherently dehumanizing when it lacks empathy or restraint. The emperor’s abuse of power is not an unfortunate necessity but a conscious moral failing, one that leaves his empire unstable and rotting from within.


The household of Ciprian Media Nocte Seneca, Julian’s political rival, offers another, more personal representation of domination. Ciprian views women and enslaved people as possessions to be used and discarded. His house is a place of fear, where women must wear sheer clothing and perform acts for his pleasure. Ciprian uses power to humiliate, asserting dominance through psychological and physical harm. His morality is shaped entirely by status: He believes that his desires define justice because he is a Roman male of noble blood. Cross uses Ciprian to show how domination often becomes self-justifying, with those in power convinced of their own righteousness.


In contrast, Julian, as the emperor’s nephew, offers a more nuanced portrayal of power. Julian is a dragon and enslaves people, yet his moral compass is markedly different from his uncle’s. Rather than dominating his household, Julian protects and rescues enslaved people who would otherwise be abused or killed. Kara, Ruskus, Ivo, and Stefanos all find safety in his home. However, Cross clarifies that this kind of power still creates a hierarchy; his use of power is paternalistic and flawed but grounded in care. The tension between benevolence and control is most visible in his relationship with Malina, but it is clear throughout that though Julian is kind, he still controls the fates of those in his household and therefore still holds the power. 


Malina’s power comes from a different source outside the scope of men’s legal and political power. Her power is a gift from the goddess Minerva that allows Malina to transcend the restrictions placed upon her. She enters Julian’s home as an enslaved person and, despite Julian’s gentleness, she constantly seeks autonomy. Her gift allows her to influence others’ emotions, and she uses it to protect herself and those she loves. In doing so, Malina reclaims power in a society that denies her agency. Her power and the way she uses it raises the question of whether it is ethical to manipulate others for a good cause, and whether survival is a valid excuse for domination. However, Cross does not frame Malina’s emotional influence through her gifts as villainous. It is defensive, protective, and even divine, and the gift suggests that her power is meant to counterbalance the unchecked brutality of those above her. Further differentiating Malina’s power, Minerva’s gifts carry ethical conditions: They are not to be used for conquest but for protection. This divine framing further illustrates Cross’s view that true power must be balanced with virtue, or it becomes indistinguishable from tyranny.


In Firebird, Julian’s mercy, Malina’s emotional resistance, and Minerva’s gifts all suggest that domination is only moral when it defends the vulnerable, not when it subjugates them. By contrasting these different power models, Cross questions the structures that allow domination to flourish and offers the argument that power itself is not evil, but how it is used reveals the character of its wielder.

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