Clover cursed sharply from over my shoulder, the soothing balm of her healing magic following a heartbeat later. “We need a plan!” she said, retreating to give me space.

I swapped my sword to my off hand and swung, cringing at the wobbly arc. The miss wasn’t surprising–my weak hand was all but useless in a fight–but it was enough to make the bird release me. Its powerful wings beat the air as it retreated several yards, nearly knocking me back.

Switching the sword back to my dominant hand, I kept my eyes locked on the creature. “I’m all ears!”

Retribution wasn’t reliable enough in this situation, and none of my other abilities would work either. Clover’s Illuminating Lance wasn’t an option either.

Her frustrated hiss told me she’d reached the same conclusion. “I’m asking my Lady for help. If nothing else, she might have information. Hold it off for a few minutes.”

Easier said than done. I nodded and braced as the bird dove at me again. Sweat slid down my back as I twisted out of the way, its dagger-like talons grazing my ear, leaving a sizzling trail of pain.

With a piercing shriek, it veered sideways and aimed for Clover. I intercepted, biting back a cry as its talons latched onto my shoulder. Burning pain seared outward to my neck as the bird surged forward, slamming me into the magical wall behind me.

Clover shouted, but I didn’t turn. My focus stayed locked on the bird as it reared back, its beak poised to strike.

The attack never came.

A brilliant flash of light filled the room, forcing me to shut my eyes. Spots danced behind my eyelids, and the bird’s agonized shriek echoed around us as its talons wrenched free.

Clover’s hand fumbled at my side until it found mine, her touch grounding me. Blinking past the lingering spots, I saw it.

No–her.

The figure from Dawncrest–the very spirit who saved me before–hovered between us and the bird. Where once she had been an indistinct shape, I could now make out the curve of her hips and the subtle line of her shoulders.

Her hair and face were still masked by light, but her voice rang with fury, its echo reverberating through the air and making my skin prickle.

“You dare raise a talon to my Chosen? Your kind is revered by the spirits, but make no mistake–attack him again, and I will end you.”

The promise of violence was unmistakable, and Clover exhaled a shaky, “Holy shit.”

I nodded, my heart lodged in my throat. “Right there with you.”

The room crackled with the raw power radiating off her, distorting the air like heatwaves. The firebird, wary now, retreated another few feet before landing. It stood tall, nearly a yard above me, its sharp gaze locked on my spirit.

Then, it spoke, its voice deep and solemn. “Apologies. I believed he was here to cause harm. The creature before him certainly did.”

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Phoenixes could talk?!

Clover made a strangled noise of surprise, echoing my own thoughts, but the bird only glanced briefly our way. Its gaze–heavy with the weight of centuries–lingered on me, narrowing in sudden realization before returning to the spirit.

“If he is truly your Chosen,” it said, “then perhaps his arrival is a boon.”

Clover choked out a hysterical laugh, shaking her head as she tried to edge toward the door, her hand still clutching mine. “You almost cooked him in his armor, and now you want a favor?”

The spirit didn’t move, but the air grew colder, her fury palpable through our bond. Her voice was a dagger. “Make your case–and make it good.”

The phoenix dipped its head. “A creature came here less than a week ago. One I have never seen. It bore the form of a serpent and devoured my eggs.” Its beak lowered, grief flickering in its glowing eyes. “I attacked, but it wielded an unusual power. It grounded me, forcing me to land, and escaped before I could strike again.”

The spirit tipped her head, tone sharp. “And so, in your blind rage, you attacked my Chosen.”

The phoenix didn’t deny it. “This is correct. The creature delved deeper, collapsing the entrance to my nest. I cannot enter and have been trapped here since.” It turned its piercing gaze to me. “But you could help.”

Clover’s grip on my hand tightened as she tugged insistently. “We’re here to collect an herb, not bargain with a bird that just tried to kill us–and very much still can.”

But the phoenix didn’t look at her. Its ebony eyes, raw with desperation, stayed locked on me. It tugged at my sympathy, but Clover was right.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t see how we would be of any help if it already ate your eggs.” I wasn’t about to throw myself into danger for vengeance, for the sake of vengeance. Not when those refugees' lives were still on the line.

I could forgive it for attacking me–I’d been prepared to destroy everything when I found Gregory, I knew the grief it was struggling with–but there was nothing to be done. The eggs were gone.

It shook its head, wings fluttering in agitation.

“My eggs are not gone. I can feel them. They live within the beast’s stomach. If you kill it, they may yet survive.”

The logical part of me wanted to refuse. We had a mission, and this wasn’t part of it. But the fire in the phoenix’s gaze gave me pause. This bird wasn’t just a mindless beast–it was fighting to save its children. Children who had been forcibly taken from it.

People abandoned their kids in Dawncrest too often, and for a wide variety of reasons. Poverty, neglect, outright abuse…the list went on. And yet, this phoenix hadn’t. The fire in its eyes burned like a torch, vengeful and hot. It couldn’t reach the snake, but if it could, it would do its best to slaughter the beast for daring to touch its children.

That would always resonate with me.

Clover shook her head, alarm sharpening her features. “Frederick, tell me you’re not considering this.”

I met her eyes, taking in the pale set of her face and the tension in her shoulders. She was afraid, her usual confidence shaken. It twisted something deep in my chest, but I couldn’t turn away from this.

Not yet.

That didn’t mean I had to drag Clover along for the ride though. She hated snakes, and this one was bound to be massive.

I smiled, squeezing her hand. “I am. But it's okay. You don’t have to come with me. You hate snakes, right? Wait here while I clear the blockage. Once our fiery friend can get through, it shouldn’t take long.”

Her glare hardened, disbelief mingling with irritation. “You think I’m scared of the snake?”

I hesitated, glancing at her taut posture. “Yes?”

A long silence stretched between us, her expression warring with itself, until finally, she grabbed my armor and dragged us nose to nose.

“You’re an idiot,” she muttered, exasperation dripping from every syllable. I didn’t have a chance to respond.

Because she kissed me.