Chapter 59: The Choice
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The little bird sneezed in its sleep and rolled over, kicking up a puff of glowing lava dust.
"Yes," the Matron said without a hint of shame. "She is young. Her form... not yet refined. But within her burns the same eternal flame that I do."
Fenna’s breath caught. "Then why did she cause trouble in our camp for the past two days?"
"Because I sent her," the Matron replied calmly. "She was meant to bring you here. But she is still a child—unruly, playful. Mischievous, yes... but without ill intent."
She paused, then added, "I wanted to reach your spirit. To whisper across flame and instinct. And so, I guided her to you. Because I have something to ask."
Fenna took a step closer, her expression tightening. "Ask what?"
"Before that... I want to tell you a story," the Matron said gently. "Please, sit."
Zephyr and Fenna obeyed, settling onto a cooled obsidian outcrop near the lava pool. The air shimmered between them and the massive phoenix, thick with heat and silence. Then, the Ember Matron spoke—her voice slow and warm, like a tale passed down beside a dying campfire.
"I am a phoenix."
The words didn’t just echo in the chamber—they settled into it, as if even the molten lava paused to listen. Zephyr felt the hairs on his arms rise, despite the suffocating heat.