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Fenna blinked, then nodded, a soft flush on her cheeks. She thinks, "My Zep is becoming romantic."
Star groaned like an old man.
"Yeah, yeah," Zephyr muttered. "You’re coming too."
They stood at the cave entrance, watching the slow curl of sulfurous mist trail out from the shadows. No turning back now. Together, they stepped into the volcano’s mouth.
The tunnel grew hotter with every step.
Zephyr wiped a bead of sweat from his brow as they descended deeper into the volcano, the walls glowing faintly with threads of molten red, as if veins of lava pulsed beneath the stone skin. The air was thick... thicker than any forest humidity they had faced. And it clung to their clothes like a second layer of steam-drenched armor.
Star padded ahead cautiously, sniffing the air. His black eyes were alert, wings slightly fanned for balance. He occasionally paused, tilting his head, nostrils twitching.
"We’re close," Zephyr murmured.
Fenna didn’t reply. Her eyes were distant, but her steps were determined, like something invisible pulled her forward. A voice. A feeling. A weightless tug in her chest that she couldn’t explain but refused to ignore.
Fenna paused at the new mouth of the tunnel, her boot hovering above jagged obsidian stone. Her brows were drawn tight, a tension not of fear, but of something harder to name. Behind her, Zephyr adjusted the strap of his pack and watched her, saying nothing.
The voice was faint at first, like a memory, not the voice itself. It wasn’t heard with ears but felt beneath the skin, like heat rippling off sunlit stone.
Come.
The word echoed in her chest, not her mind. A pull. Gentle. Persistent. When she closed her eyes and tried to dismiss it, the call came again.
Deeper... Turn right then left. Follow.
Every time she took a step forward, toward the core the call grew stronger. The tug beneath her sternum intensified, her breath slowing as if her body knew the rhythm of some forgotten drumbeat.
Star hadn’t reacted—at least not at first. But midway up the slope, he’d sniffed the wind and gave a low trill, tail twitching. Then he bounded forward, as if catching a scent that was only half real.
Closer. You are almost here.
She reached up and pressed a hand to her collarbone. The warmth in her chest had become steady, like a sunstone pressed to skin. Not painful, but insistent. Emotional, even. A yearning.
Zephyr’s hand lightly brushed her shoulder. "What is it?"
She didn’t answer at first. Her voice was tight when it came.
"She’s calling me. We are here."
"She?"
Fenna nodded. "I don’t know how, but a female voice had been guiding me from the start."
The heat that poured from it was staggering, even more than the sun-soaked upper slopes. Steam hissed from cracks in the floor. The scent of sulfur mixed with something else—feathers? No, ash and feathers.
"Is it safe?" he asked.
"No," Fenna replied. "But it’s right."
She turned to him, face lit by the glowing tunnel mouth. "We have to go. We are only a few turns away."
And so they did.
After nearly an hour of slow walking through a winding tunnel that sloped deeper beneath the earth, they arrived...
The passage ended in a wide, cathedral-like chamber. It was colossal, silent, and terrifying in its beauty. This was no ordinary cave. This was the heart of the volcano.
The walls stretched upward and disappeared into glowing smoke. In the center of the chamber was a shallow lake of molten lava, gently rippling like a bed of glowing syrup. The glow it cast bathed the chamber in warm orange and crimson, throwing shadows that danced like ancient spirits.
But the lake wasn’t empty.
There, lying on a raised stone platform in the center of the lava pool, was the most majestic creature Zephyr and Fenna had ever seen.
A massive orange bird, easily the size of a three floor building, maybe over fifty to sixty feet tall. It was hard to say. It lay curled like a cat on a bed of fire. Its feathers shimmered with gradients of gold and amber, each plume tipped with living flame. Its tail feathers draped over the edge of the platform like molten banners. A soft glow emitted from the space around it, making the stone platform seem less like rock and more like a floating cloud.
And just to the side of the regal beast... lay the small fat orange chicken.
Fenna pointed. "That’s it! That’s the thing that ruined my dresses!"
The small bird snored audibly, its round belly rising and falling, a small tongue poking out of its beak. One foot twitched occasionally, as if it were dreaming of running in circles or stealing food.
Before Fenna could storm forward, the great bird opened one of its massive eyes. A warm, molten orange gleam. "Thank you... for coming," it said.
Fenna froze mid step. Zephyr grabbed her wrist out of instinct. "You... spoke?" Fenna asked, her voice catching in her throat.
The great bird raised its head, and a plume of fire trailed from its crest like a slow-motion flare. "Yes. I am the one who guided your path."
Zephyr stepped forward, eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
"I am the master of ember known as Ember Matron." the bird replied, her voice warm like a bonfire, yet slow and ancient, as if every syllable carried centuries of patience. "And you... are her."
Fenna blinked. "Me?"
The Ember Matron nodded, feathers rustling like rusted silk. "Your flame called to me. It’s faint now... but it burns with potential. The spark that lives in you is rare. And I need it."
Fenna swallowed. "Why do you need me?"
The Matron’s gaze softened. "The one beside you has a bond with fire, yes. But yours is not of training. Yours is instinct. Spirit. The creature you seek is my daughter, though small and foolish. She has no bad intentions. She just loves to play."
Zephyr glanced at the fat bird again. "That is your daughter?"