CHAPTER 36: FORGING A NAME

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Star’s eyes glowed like coals set ablaze. He beat his wings once, twice then shot upward, trailing fire like a comet. Gasps turned to awe as the drake tucked his wings, going vertical.

"Too high!" someone cried. "He’s fleeing!"

"No," Fenna whispered, her eyes wide. "He’s diving."

Star plummeted.

At the last instant... Just before the impact, he snapped open his jaws, and a stream of flame jetted out with all the fury of their bond. The Ember Trail synergy surged, intensifying the heat. The fire turned almost white at the core.

The blaze scorched across the Ash Scale’s exposed head crest, melting through the cracked armor. The lizard didn’t roar, it shrieked. It stumbled back, tail thrashing, and then collapsed.

A flare of white light popped from a handler’s pole at the edge of the ring. The symbol of surrender. Bells rang. Victory confirmed.

Dong! Dong! Dong!

For a heartbeat, the arena held its breath. Then the crowd exploded. Cheering rained down like hail. Coins were flung into the betting pit. Gamblers screamed, some furious, others gleeful, and guards had to intercept two men trying to jump the railing.

Arlen whooped from the sideline. "You see that? You see that Hollowback dive?!"

Fenna exhaled so sharply she nearly stumbled. She grabbed the rail for support, her face pale with emotion but shining with pride. "He did it. He really did it... My Zep is the winner."

The guy number one clapped with his hands with mixed expressions. The guy number two whooped and waved his coin slip above his head. "Pay up, pay up!" He changed teams when the betting odds changed.

Zephyr stood in the center of the ring, chest heaving, sweat clinging to his face. He pumped a fist. Star landed beside him, trembling, smoke trailing from his wounds but wings wide in triumph. A rest and some herds from fenna will heal the injury.

System prompts flooded his vision:

[Ding! System notifications:

First public victory achieved.

Reputation +10 (Emberfall).

Winnings: 20 Silver coins from winning, + 60 silver coins from the system as first victory= 80.]

Zephyr didn’t smile. He just stepped forward and laid a hand on Star’s neck. "You were perfect."

Star closed his eyes, exhaled smoke. The crowd’s roars rolled over them like surf. And Zephyr knew this was only the beginning.

A few moments later...

The air backstage was thick with the scent of scorched stone and smoke slicked sweat. Torches flickered along the tunnel walls, casting long shadows that danced across rough basalt. Beast handlers whispered and scribes jotted final notes. But none of that reached Zephyr, not with the singing from the roar of the crowd and the burning pride of victory.

Fenna threw her arms around him the moment he stepped past the arena gate, nearly knocking him back.

"You did it!" she breathed, face flushed, eyes shining. "Zeph, that was... the last move..., that was incredible!"

Zephyr grinned, adrenaline still flooding him. "We did it."

Star let out a soft trill, his wings half limp but proud. Fenna bent and cupped the young drake’s snout, pressing her forehead to his gently.

"You brilliant little blaze," she murmured. "You showed them all."

Arlen elbowed through the small crowd, laughing loudly as he grabbed Zephyr’s shoulder. "Boy, you just set the pit ablaze!" he barked, grinning ear to ear. "That’s how you forge a name! And that final dive? Like something out of the old war chants!"

Zephyr turned to Star, pulling him into a brief, tight embrace. The dragonling’s scales were warm, pulsing faintly. Zephyr could feel the tremble in his muscles. The exhaustion setting in but the pride in the bond was fierce and radiant.

But the moment cracked.

The cheering dimmed, as if the torches flickered in warning. A hush fell behind them. Boots clicked slowly against stone.

She arrived without fanfare, yet silence followed her.

She was tall and commanding, not in the way of soldiers or smiths, but with the dangerous calm of someone used to issuing ultimatums that couldn’t be refused. A crimson cloak flowed behind her like a living flame, stitched with a phoenix motif that shimmered gold whenever it caught the torchlight. Beneath it, black leathers hugged her figure, more ceremonial than combat-ready, yet not without function. Her dark hair was swept into a braided crown, revealing cheekbones sharp as glass and eyes that glowed with ember-hued cunning.

A Phoenix Ring emissary. The guild’s colors, its sigil, the aura of heat and hierarchy, it all spoke volumes. And silence followed in her wake like a shadow.

She stopped three paces from Zephyr, gaze raking over him, not with disdain, but calculation.

Star tensed beside Zephyr, letting out a low warning hiss. "Purr"

The woman did not flinch.

She stopped three paces from Zephyr and lifted a hand, the surrounding crowds cleared the area. They all left.

"Your beast is no Hollowback," she said, voice smooth and coiled like silk over steel. "And you are no common beast feeder."

Zephyr’s spine straightened instinctively. Muscles tensed beneath his worn tunic, but his face remained calm. Measured. Star shifted beside him, wings tucked close, still wounded, still watching.

He met her eyes and replied evenly, "It’s a Hollowback. Believe it or not."

"I know you’re hiding something," she continued, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "The way that creature flew. The way he burned. It’s definitely different from the textbook definition. But I respect talent. And I know potential when I see it."

She stepped closer, and the heat from her cloak was palpable not magic, but enhanced by crafted fibers designed to radiate warmth like a forge skin.

"But I don’t mind secrets," she continued. "Not when they’re paired with power."

Zephyr narrowed his eyes slightly. "Then why approach me? What do you want?"

She reached beneath her cloak and drew out a small bronze disc, no larger than a coin. Its surface shimmered faintly, engraved with the symbol of a phoenix mid ascent. She held it between two fingers, letting the firelight glint along the edge.