CHAPTER 71: CAMPCOMING?!

---

He scanned the tree line, still expecting Fenna to appear any day. She’d been gone three nights now—longer than he’d wanted. He trusted her, but trust didn’t smother worry. Not when volcanoes and immortal birds were involved.

He rubbed the back of his neck, wrestling doubts back into their corner. Just then, the soft rustle of leaves reached his ears. It was too soft for a boar, too light for a deer. Zephyr froze, hand drifting to the dagger at his belt. He turned. He was ready to use his dragon sense.

Suddenly a pair of hands slid over his eyes, warm and familiar.

"Guess who’s back?" a voice whispered in his ear.

Zephyr’s heart leapt into his throat. He released the dagger, grin widening. "If it’s a legendary phoenix empress, I’m surrendering."

The hands lifted. Zephyr pivoted, arms half-raised to sweep Fenna into a hug, but the moment he saw her face, the embrace stalled.

She tried to smile, but worry etched deep shadows under her eyes. Her hair, once stubbornly copper, had darkened to near-black, streaked with ember-red. Ash smudged her cheeks, a glowing phoenix mark shimmered faintly on her wrist, and in the sling across her torso nestled a small shape wrapped in obsidian-silk.

Zephyr’s smile faded. "Fenna you look... Beautiful!"

She swallowed, gaze dropping. "I’m back."

He stepped closer, studying her. She looked older somehow—wiser, like she’d stood on the edge of something ancient and returned changed. But the worry on her face eclipsed her beauty. He followed her downward glance to the bundle against her chest.

"It’s Emberling," Fenna murmured.

At the sound of her name, the chick stirred. A tiny beak poked from the sling, emitting a sad little chirp before curling back into the cloth. Even that single note carried faint heat.

Zephyr’s eyes widened. "Is she hurt?"

"No. Just... tired. And grieving." Fenna’s voice cracked on the last word.

Star stirred behind him, sniffing the air. His black eyes fluttered, then widened at the stranger’s scent. He sat up, head cocked.

Zephyr put a gentle hand on Fenna’s shoulder. "Set her down, yeah? Star’s nest is the warmest place we have at this location."

Fenna nodded numbly. Together they walked to the drake’s nest. Star eyed the bundle, letting out a questioning rumble. Zephyr crouched and stroked his muzzle. "Easy, big guy. She is your big sister. She is a guest on your nest."

Fenna knelt and eased Emberling from her sling, laying the chick in the center of the char-moss bowl. The phoenix whimpered, curling tiny wings around her head. Star lowered his snout, sniffed once, then exhaled a single warm huff. It was enough heat to blanket the chick without startling her. Emberling’s feathers shivered and, for a heartbeat, glowed a brighter orange.

Zephyr watched the exchange, heart tightening. He rose and guided Fenna by the elbow toward the supply crate, away from the nest’s hush. She allowed herself to be led, shoulders slumped.

"What happened?" Zephyr asked with a low voice.

Fenna didn’t answer at first. She wrapped her arms around herself, staring at her wrist where the phoenix mark pulsed faintly. The clearing’s breeze ruffled her soot-streaked cloak, revealing ragged edges where stray embers had burned through fabric. She looked like she’d walked through a wildfire.

Zephyr waited, giving her space.

Finally, she inhaled shakily. "She’s gone."

"Gone?" His mind raced with images of Emberling, of volcano eruptions. "Who is gone? The little bird is here."

"The Matron. She... she completed her cycle. She returned to the sun." Fenna’s voice broke, but she forced the words out. "It was beautiful, Zep. Terrible and beautiful. She didn’t die. She became light. But Emberling—" Her breath hitched. "She watched it happen. She cried for hours. I couldn’t do anything."

Zephyr’s jaw clenched. He reached for her hand, thumb brushing the phoenix mark. It thrummed like a heartbeat. "You comforted her. That’s something."

"I tried everything," Fenna whispered. "Songs, flame illusions, charfruit paste. Nothing helped. She just... wailed until she collapsed. She’s exhausted, but I think her heart hurts more."

Zephyr pulled her into a gentle embrace. For a moment she trembled, burying her face in his shoulder. Her tears were hot but brief—she’d cried plenty already.

"I’m here," Zephyr murmured. "We’ll take care of her together."

Behind them, Star adjusted a half-burnt log around Emberling like a protective wall. Satisfied, he curled beside the chick, one wing shielding her from the breeze. Emberling’s body nestled deeper into the char-moss, her glowing feathers dimming into slumber.

Fenna sniffed and pulled back. "She has a fever in her spirit. The Matron said True Fire heals, but grief is a cold the flame can’t cure quickly."

Zephyr brushed soot from her cheek. "Then we keep her warm, fed, and safe. And let her grieve."

Fenna nodded, wiping her eyes. "I also need to give her flame-fruit every dawn for a week. Keeps her core stable. The Matron taught me."

Zephyr exhaled through his nose, relief and worry colliding. "We’ll fetch ingredients soon."

He guided her to a small rock, pressing the last waterskin into her hands. She drank, wincing as cool water hit a throat scorched by ash. Zephyr knelt opposite, the supply list forgotten.

"Tell me everything," he said softly.

And with the sunlight cresting the ridge, Fenna began to speak—the volcano’s heat, the Matron’s lessons, the dance of resonance, about true phoenix fire, the moment of ascension. Zephyr listened in silence, eyes widening when she described the healing flame, softening when she spoke of Emberling’s tears.

When she finished, the sun was a bright gold disc in the sky, chasing away the morning’s last chill. The clearing felt different. A little warmer. A little heavier. But not broken.

Never broken.

Fenna looked at Emberling, asleep beside Star. "She’s all that’s left of the Matron. She’s the last phoenix in our empire."

"Then she’s not alone," Zephyr said. "She has you. She has us."

He rose, scanning the clearing—half burned training flags, scattered embers, a drake dozing on a nest of ash, and a single sleeping chick glowing like the first ember of a new forge.