---
Zephyr nodded. "Not bad. We’ll push for tighter bursts next."
Star’s eyes sparkled at the praise.
Fenna watched from the sideline, arms crossed and lips twitching with an amused smile. "Is it weird that he looks too happy about setting things on fire?"
"He’s a dragon," Zephyr replied. "Fire is his heartbeat."
Star chirped, clearly agreeing with zephyr.
Zephyr grabbed a thick iron plate. He brought it from one of Arlen’s old vat lids and set it upright in the second ring. "This is the real test. Controlled flame. You burn this without melting it, and you earn lunch time."
Star padded forward, pupils narrowing. He inhaled slowly, chest expanding. Then he held the breath, not releasing it.
Zephyr raised an eyebrow. "Good. You’re learning to temper the burn."
A faint glow began to pulse along Star’s throat. Not wild, not flaring, but focused heat. The moment it peaked, he exhaled.
FWSSHHTT!
A tight stream of fire burst forward, more condensed than before, its edges less chaotic. The flames wrapped the iron plate like fingers gripping it, scorching the surface in a clean oval without warping the metal.
Star stepped back, panting lightly but proudly.
Zephyr examined the plate. Blackened but not bent. "Perfect." A soft chime echoed in his system window.
[SYSTEM MESSAGE – TEMPORARY ANALYSIS
Training Protocol: Ember Focus – Successful
Flame Control: +2
Burn Precision: Tier E Unlocked
Breath Duration Sync: 78%
Progress recorded. Continue training to unlock the next fire variant. ]
Zephyr dismissed the screen. He looked down at Star, who was still sitting alert despite the sweat beading at his flanks.
"Let’s push again. This time let’s practice the Ember Trail."
Star leapt into motion, sweeping low through the ring with his claws barely grazing the earth. He ran in a wide arc, and as he did, tiny flame bursts sparked from his feet, leaving a glowing trail of fire that lingered briefly before fading into smoke.
Zephyr called out, "Tighten the trail! Less scatter!"
Star pivoted, tail swinging in counterbalance, and narrowed his motion. The next arc was cleaner, only two trails formed, almost parallel, like rails of molten heat.
Fenna walked closer, watching the trail fade. "That... looked controlled."
"It was," Zephyr said with an impressed look. "We’re almost at a usable Ember Trace."
They kept at it. For over an hour, Zephyr drilled Star through a series of coordinated motions of flame arcs, pivot burns, tail-lash sparks. He began introducing dodging sequences: fake lunges, backward flips, and forward slides, all laced with brief but potent fire release. Star’s wings helped direct his fire; his tail swept it; his breath refined it.
Eventually, the ash-covered training ring became a dancefloor of flickering scorch marks and melted debris.
Finally, after one final forward dash ending in a triple-pulse of sparks, Zephyr raised a hand.
"Break."
Star collapsed into a low crouch, panting hard. Smoke spiraled from his maw. His wings drooped but didn’t touch the ground. He was learning to preserve tension.
Zephyr smiled. "Well done, soldier."
Star gave a breathless trill of pride.
Fenna stepped forward, holding out a cooled waterskin. "You weren’t kidding about today being ’burn day.’ He almost lit my eyebrows from twenty paces."
Zephyr took the skin and crouched beside Star, pouring a small amount into his cupped palm. The drake licked it gratefully, smoke still curling faintly from his nostrils.
"We need that edge," Zephyr said quietly. "Ayan Vaelor won’t hold back. He’ll bring beast tactics. Star has to be more than a flamethrower, We need technique."
Fenna glanced at the training ring. "You’re getting there."
They let the rest of the noon pass in calmness. Zephyr wiped down Star with damp cloths, cleaning the ash from his joints and wings. Fenna repaired the last usable clothes from her travel satchel. Together, they cooked a simple lunch over the training coals. It was salt root, fire herb sausage, and charred squash.
As they sat eating, Fenna glanced toward the shadow draped tree line. "Tonight’s the trap," she said.
Zephyr nodded. "Your tent will be bait."
"Yes," she said, voice cool, "I’m getting justice for my poor ruined dresses."
Star blinked slowly, unimpressed.
Zephyr looked between them and smirked. "Then let’s prepare."
That afternoon, they worked quietly, efficiently. Zephyr reinforced the bait tent with a false floor that rustled with dried leaves, ensuring any small paws would leave behind fresh sound clues. Fenna set out food portions with bait herbs laced into the wrapping with subtle ingredients like sugarleaf and dried citrus rind, commonly used to lure curious avians and small elemental beasts.
They used charcoal powder from the training fire to darken their clothes. Star practiced short range camouflage by crouching low and curling his tail over his belly, making his glowing eye ridges appear like rocks.
By dusk, the Ember Nest had become a miniature fortress of detection.
Fenna crouched beside the supply crate, tugging on her gloves. "Tonight, Do you think it will come back?"
Zephyr nodded slowly. "It didn’t come for food. It came for mischief. It will be back. It has already come twice, so it will be back."
Fenna tied back her hair. "Good. Because this time, we’re ready. I will catch that little mischief."
They sat in silence as the final light drained from the canopy, and the woods hushed into deep ember dusk.
Somewhere in the thickets beyond, a pair of tiny glowing eyes blinked open.
The trap was set.
Fenna’s tent was remade exactly as before, with her blanket spread and her scent laced into the sheets. Zephyr made sure the moonlight filtered just enough through the canopy to leave most of the camp in shadow.
He, Fenna, and Star crouched in the underbrush ten paces away, covered in soot cloaked linen and moss packs. Star’s eyes glowed faintly, but Zephyr touched his neck and whispered, "Dim."
The glow faded slightly. The forest was still. Not a single bird chirped. Even the sulfur pool’s hiss was softer tonight.
Then... a crunch.
It was Tiny and Delicate.
Soft as dew on old bark.
Zephyr’s eyes snapped to the tent.
A flicker—orange?
Then it was gone.
But the scent of heat, feathers, and something sweet, like honey roasted smoke drifted into his nose.
Fenna’s grip tightened around her dagger hilt. Her breath slowed.
They waited.