CHAPTER 67: TOWARD THE SUN

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A feather-thin glow had begun to etch itself into her flesh. First it was faint. Then it became brighter.

A curved flame.

A curling wing.

A tiny phoenix, barely the size of a coin, engraved like living light on her inner wrist. Not painful. But warm. Unmistakable.

Fenna stared at it in awe.

"You learn everything," the Matron whispered. "You danced. You form a trust. You burned, and you healed. That is the rite of the phoenix."

Emberling fluttered onto her shoulder, her eyes glowing. The mark gently pulsed once—in time with the chick’s breath.

"It’s... it’s beautiful."

"It’s yours. And hers. Now and forever. This is your bond mark with her. You can also call it Tamer mark, but it is different. Because you are connected by heart. Like a parent and child."

Fenna wrapped her fingers around the mark, then reached up to stroke Emberling’s tiny beak.

"I promise I’ll protect her. No matter what happens. I will be a good mother figure for her."

"You won’t have to do it alone," the Matron said. "Because now, in danger, she will protect you as well."

Fenna closed her eyes, breathing deep. For the first time in her life, she didn’t just feel powerful. She felt whole.

Later that evening, as the last of the day’s light faded beyond the volcano’s throat, the Matron stood at the chamber’s entrance and looked back once more.

Fenna sat cross-legged with Emberling curled beside her, gently brushing her feathers with a wet cloth. The flame between them was quiet. Resting. But alive.

The mark on her wrist still glowed faintly. It was like a promise she had yet to fully understand.

"You will leave this place soon," the Matron said. "You live in your own world. The real world is less forgiving. Be careful who you trust."

Fenna didn’t look up. "I know."

"Then remember this: fire cannot protect those who do not tend to it. Feed it with trust. With love. With rhythm."

Fenna nodded slowly. "I will."

Emberling chirped sleepily, her downy body tucked close to Fenna’s side.

Fenna looked at the ceiling, lips curving into a smile. "I’m not just a tamer anymore," she whispered. "I’m the flame."

The volcano’s heart was quiet. Not silent—no, never silent—but holding its breath. The lava lake pulsed with a slow, heavy rhythm like the heartbeat of an ancient god. The warmth was no longer oppressive. It was reverent.

Fenna stood in the center of the chamber, Emberling nestled in her arms. The little phoenix chick nuzzled her chest, feathers shimmering with soft flame. Around them, soot curled lazily in the air, as if reluctant to disturb the moment.

The Ember Matron stood before them, wings furled, her gaze not fierce, but distant. As if she already knew.

"This is the end, isn’t it?" Fenna whispered, her voice steady despite the tightness in her throat.

The Matron nodded slowly. "It is not death, child. It is transcendence."

Fenna’s fingers curled protectively around Emberling. "You’re leaving."

"I was never meant to stay," the Matron said, stepping forward, talons clicking against warm obsidian. "I lingered only to find a guardian for my child and to pass the flame."

She looked at Emberling with something deeper than pride. It is a legacy.

"Over five hundred years, I kept the sacred fire within me. For fifty years... I was waiting until my baby hatched. After that for one year I have been Searching for a kind heart. And now, I trust... you to carry the spark forward."

Fenna’s eyes shimmered. "But we still need you."

"No." The Matron touched Fenna’s wrist gently with her beak. "You need only each other."

Then, with careful steps, the Matron walked to the center of the chamber. Lava surged around the edges, glowing brighter as if sensing what was to come.

"Never forget," she said, her voice now low and powerful, echoing across the stone.

"True Fire is not destruction. It is renewal. It burns... yes, but it also heals. It sears the rot and breathes life into what remains. It is agony and a blessing. Memory and forgetting. It is what gave the first phoenix wings, and what shall call the last home. Don’t lose your kind heart otherwise... the world will be doomed."

Fenna clutched Emberling tighter. The chick gave a soft, confused chirp.

"You have learned to wield the flame," the Matron continued, "but you must now learn to bear it without rage."

Her feathers shimmered. The orange and crimson plumes turned brighter, bleeding white-hot brilliance from root to tip.

"The fire within you will respond to pain," she said. "It will rise when you falter, and blaze when you love. It will shield your kin, and punish your enemies. You are its vessel. Its voice. Never let it go wild."

The air warped around her. Then, she unfurled her wings. The entire chamber howled.

Lava erupted behind her in twin geysers of molten gold. The feathers along her wings burst into radiant flame, then it vaporized. Not ash. Not smoke. Just light. Pure mana, burning free of flesh.

Fenna stepped back instinctively, shielding Emberling with her arms. But she didn’t flee. She watched.

The Matron turned once more, and her face no longer aged or weary. It gleamed with something divine. Her eyes locked on Fenna, the glowing memory of her gaze seared into the girl’s soul.

"You are not the flame’s master," she said. "You are its mirror. It will reflect your heart."

And then—She leapt.

Wings spread wide, body lifted by the inferno rising behind her. As she ascended into the glowing plume, her body disintegrated—not in pieces, but in particles. Each feather became a trail of golden dust. Each talon is a beam of fire. Her core, her heart, the very soul of her being, burst into light.

She rose higher. And higher. Until she was no longer a creature of flesh, but a rising star of incandescent mana.

Fenna fell to her knees.

Emberling chirped once. Its eyes looked toward the sky above.