CHAPTER 103: THREE-DAY CRUCIBLE

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Their lips met each other slowly, uncertain, then surer. Heat surge—not the blaze of battle or campfire but a steady ember that promised to burn long after the duel was done.

When they parted, Fenna placed her forehead against his. "Five days," she whispered. "We win and we leave him behind forever."

"A whole future," Zephyr agreed. "No chains, no brands. Just us and whichever sky Star decides to claim."

Later they poured over a charcoal map pinned to a crate. Zephyr tapped three circled clearings.

"Tomorrow: dawn drills here—open canopy for flight grapples. Mid-day: basalt flats for blade or spear footwork. Dusk: sulfur pools for heat endurance training."

Fenna traced a fourth mark. "Add bow-shed practice. Aurora needs to learn tandem bursts." She scratched notes: Flash-flight → Fenna spin shot → Aurora blind.

Aurora peeped approval from the rafter beam. Star flicked his tail in what Zephyr assumed was commitment.

Zephyr scribbled a bold header on the corner: "2-Day Battle-Prep – Duel T-5."

Fenna yawned. "After that, one day to rest, one to travel to the city."

"Then the arena." Zephyr folded the map. "And we end this."

Fatigue pulled at them, all muscles aching from hours of butchery and battle. Fenna banked the last ember-pit, covering coals with thin volcanic sand. Zephyr checked Star’s new neck plates, ensuring the growth seams hadn’t cracked under strain.

Muse finished her salt blocks and collapsed near the cart axle, snoring almost instantly. Aurora fluttered down onto Star’s foreleg, curling in the crook of his claw, feathers glowing faintly like dying fireflies.

Zephyr unrolled two bed-mats under the half repaired lean to form fire leopard battle.

Moonlight spilled in— silver specks dancing with ember sparks. Far off, a lonely geyser vent whooshed every few minutes, its humm whistle merging with night insects’ drone.

Fenna sank onto her blanket, tugging off boots. "My whole body feels like boiled basilisk tendon."

Zephyr flopped beside her. "At least it’s boiled. Mine feels hammered flat."

They laughed softly with exhaustion and muscle pain. He draped a thin heat resistant blanket over their legs. She scooted closer, head on his chest, heartbeat syncing with his.

Star curled a wing over them like a living roof, temperature perfect. Under it the air smelled of warm scale and faint embers, it was a cocoon of safety.

Zephyr stroked Fenna’s hair once. "Tomorrow we train, we heal, we sharpen."

"Then we fight," she murmured, eyelids drooping.."And then we win."

Silence settled—breathing, heartbeats, crackling embers. Somewhere beyond the crater a night beast howled, but it sounded distant, muted by Star’s protective growl.

Fenna’s breathing slowed.

Zephyr closed his eyes: "Five days. Duel. Victory. Freedom by creating our own guild." The thought faded into a dream.

The camp glowed with dim orange coals. Smoke drifted upward. It was thin, harmless. It goes toward the moon that looks like a silver guardian. And in that hush of ember lit night, two tamers, a phoenix chick, a small dragon, and an overworked but heroic cow slept beneath the cracked glass sky, storing strength for the trials to come.

Few hours later...

The first murmur of morning drifted through Emberwood forest like pale smoke. Fenna’s eyes cracked open to a sky painted soft lavender, streaked by amber contrails from distant geyser vents. Star was still a warm ridge at her back, his slow breathing rattling the lean-to poles. Zephyr lay half curled around her, bare arm draped over her waist, heartbeat gentle against her spine.

For five heartbeats she forgot all about duels, rogues, and Ayan’s looming shadow. It was just warmth, quiet...and the faint crackle of a rekindled cooking fire.

"Mm," Zephyr mumbled. He shifted, nose brushing against a halo of her ash white hair. "Morning already?"

"Too soon," Fenna whispered, but she eased away, careful not to jostle Aurora, who had spent the night nestled in the shallow cauldron of Star’s folded wing. The chick’s down was puffed into sleepy spikes, each feather tip flickering with residual ember light.

Muse below them snored from the crater rim, tongue lolling out like a satisfied hound. A half licked salt block glistened under her chin. She’d slept so hard she’d drooled a crusted crescent into the ash.

Fenna rose up, stretched, and stepped into the open clearing. A brittle wind teased glowing sparks from last night’s coals. She inhaled once... the scents of smoked basilisk, emberjack fat, and char pine bark mingling into the forest’s strange breakfast perfume.

Five days to the arena, she reminded herself. Two days of training, one day of rest, one to travel, and the next dawn is the duel. Time enough, if they pushed.

A gentle whoosh: Star unfurled his wing canopy. Aurora yawn-chirped, hopped onto his head, and blinked at Fenna with fiery pebble eyes.

Zephyr trudged out, raking fingers through sand-tangled hair. "I smell raptor jerky," he said, voice hoarse. "And ambition."

"Mostly ambition," she teased. "We start with flight grapples in the north clearing. No sleeping in."

He rolled his shoulders, popped one vertebra. "Fine. But I will get to the first coffee root."

They chose a wide patch of treeless crater lip. Basalt spires formed natural hoops; dawn sun glared off their glassy surfaces. Fenna staked rawhide markers in a fifty-pace ring. Aurora, fully awake, zipped overhead emitting concentric pulse flashes—tiny bursts that left flares in Zephyr’s vision like floating coins.

"Objective," Zephyr called, voice echoing, "Star must lock onto Fenna’s aerial target, grapple without lethal force, and ground safely." He faced the young drake. "No biting through bone. Use wings for drag."

Star flicked his tail, molten-gold eyes narrowing in readiness.

Fenna signaled Aurora with two fingers. The chick dove skyward, wings igniting in soft sunrise flares, then leveled into a tight arc fifteen paces up.

"Let’s dance," Fenna murmured.

Star leapt, with a wind-thumping beat and shot after Aurora. The phoenix chick squeaked in shock, darting sideways. Star overshot, stalled, tucked wings, and snapped them out again to brake, showering ash behind him.

Zephyr cupped his hands. "Less throttle— use tail attack!"

Star banked, tail sweeping left, adjusting momentum. Aurora wheeled, letting off a flash burst. Star flinched but didn’t break pursuit.

Fenna knocked a blunt-tip arrow— no head, just weight and fired past Star’s flank. It whistled through air; Star rotated in mid flight, claws open, and snatched the wood shaft clean.

Zephyr whooped. "Clench and drop, lad!"

Star folded his wings, tumbled like a comet, then snapped them in full just above the ring ground. Dirt blasted outward; the drake landed on all fours with a shudder that rippled through the basalt plate.

He lowered one claw, presenting the arrow to Fenna like a knight offering a trophy.

She smiled, breath fogging in morning chill. "Better."

Aurora flitted down, chirping indignantly —try not to decapitate me next time— and pecked a playful nip at Star’s horn. The drake snorted a puff of heat near her feathers, a half apology.

They repeated the exercise six more times, reducing the altitude window, sharpening Star’s acceleration and deceleration timing. Each plunge sprayed new black grooves into the ash. By the final run, the drake captured Fenna’s arrow with minimal airburst, wings barely rumpling Aurora’s flight path.

Zephyr wiped sweat from his brow. "Flight grapples: pass."

Star preened, chest scales shimmering. Soon the noon heat baked the basalt flats to griddle temperature. Zephyr and Fenna stripped to sleeveless undershirts, arms gleaming with sweat.

"Single edge spear form!" Zephyr announced, planting two char-sap shafts upright. "Target is armored boar height, moving left."

Star lay off to the side, tail curled, eyes half lidded. Aurora perched on a spear butt, providing chirped commentary.

Muse...? She’d found a broad shade patch and refused to budge, except to flick occasional disdainful looks at the training pair.

Fenna braced, left foot forward, spear tip angled low. Zephyr mirrored her. They moved in tandem —stab, spin, reverse grip, thrust— dust swirling under footwork. Their shadows danced across quarries and flat stones.

Zephyr lunged, spear butt rapping Fenna’s shaft. She parried, pivoted behind him, and swept low. He vaulted, landing a counter tap on her back. She answered with a fire palm strike to his ribs. It was light contact but stinging.

"Again," Fenna hissed.

They repeated until breaths came ragged. Midway Zephyr saw her cheeks flush, not from exertion alone. She fought harder each time his spear met her guard— every crack of wood a drum for anger.

Finally she halted, spear butt digging into stone. "No more practice," she snapped. "I want real bruises. I want Ayan tasting blood—mine on purpose."

Zephyr lowered his spear. "He won’t know which hit hurts more—your arrow or my blade."

She glared at the horizon. "I’m not letting you shield me."

"Never said I would." He stepped closer, voice softer. "We fight shoulder-to-shoulder. But the final blow—your arrow—he needs to see it coming, feel powerless as it lands. That’s justice."

Her jaw unclenched. She nodded, throat working. "Then teach me one trick he doesn’t know."

Zephyr touched his spear to her wrist. "Grip half an inch higher—lets you decoy thrust then hook the calf. Blindside angle." He demonstrated, guiding her hands. Their breaths mingled. Static zipped along his forearm where her fingers curled.

"Better," she whispered.

Aurora chirped approval from her perch. Star let out a low, amused rumble. It was a dragon commentary on human courtship.

The sun had swung past zenith when Muse announced she’d had enough.

Zephyr hauled a fresh Emberjack rump onto the last drying rack. The cow snorted, marched forward, and flicked the rack with her horn, sending fat-speckled strips flopping to the ground.

"Hey!" he shouted.

Muse gave him a look that said "I warned you about weight limits." Then she lay down—full sprawl—blocking the cart’s access ramp.