“So,” Tafel said and scratched her head while looking around at the makeshift camp she had set up. The baby phoenixes were huddled around her, making the campfire a bit redundant. Their body temperatures were enough to make her sweat just by being near them. “I know I told your mom I’d help watch over you, but how long was that supposed to be for?”

“Until we’re grown up,” Emile said with a nod. “Lava, please.”

Tafel’s brow furrowed as she manipulated flames, earth, and wind to create a massive ball of lava above her head. She carved out a shallow pool with a few flicks of her sword, and deposited the lava within. The phoenixes cheered and crowded around the edges, dipping their beaks into the molten rock.

“How long does it take for a phoenix to grow up?” Tafel asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Why? Are you abandoning us?” one of the phoenixes asked while blinking.

“No! No, of course not,” Tafel said, shaking her head. “I just wanted to know, you know, out of curiosity.”

“Oh,” the phoenix said. “The average phoenix becomes an adult in six hundred years.”

“F—” Tafel stifled the curse that wanted to escape from her mouth. “Six hundred years?” she asked. “And I have to watch over twelve of you? I, I guess I can do it if I drink from Auntie’s fountain.” She sighed and lay down, resting her head against a mossy rock. The moon shone overhead, its light partially hidden behind the thick canopy. Dim light from the phoenixes and pool of lava illuminated the nearby trees with a blood-red glow. She muttered, “Six hundred years in exchange for a phoenix imprint, is it worth it?”

A sigh escaped from Tafel’s lips as she closed her eyes. A golden rune appeared on her forehead, pulsing in time with her heart. Tendrils of light snaked from the rune down her body and up her horns, painting a golden web on her skin. Her body shuddered, and she bit down on her lower lip. Tears sprang to the corners of her eyes as she let out a small whimper. “Is this how Vur sees the world?” Tafel asked as she opened her eyes and raised one hand above her face. Particles of pure mana danced around her fingers, approaching but never touching her skin. “I never knew it was so … beautiful.” She pointed a finger at the sky. “Firebolt.”

The phoenixes stopped drinking and stared at Tafel. Her hair fluttered as mana surged into her body from everywhere, the golden markings on her body lighting up. As if she had fallen into water feet first, mana surged upwards from her toes to her hand until it cumulated in her finger. Like a lightning bolt, a pillar of jagged fire roared out of Tafel’s finger, splitting the sky, turning night into day while setting the treetops ablaze. A clear phoenix cry echoed through the forest for a few seconds. When the cry ended, the fire shooting from Tafel’s finger stopped, but the trees overhead still crackled and burned.

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Tafel raised her hand, pointing her palm at the burning leaves. “Ice.”

A chilly wind blew past, causing the phoenixes to shiver and huddle together around Tafel. “Is this what it feels like to be a penguin?” one of the phoenixes asked as ice crystals sprouted from the burning branches, stifling the flames in an instant. The forest fell dark once again, but the moonlight was unobstructed as it struck the forest floor. The pool of lava had a crusty layer of black rock over it from the sudden chill.

“Being raised in an environment like this since he was born,” Tafel said as the golden light on her body died down. “No wonder why Vur’s the way he is. This feeling is incredible.” She blinked at the phoenixes crowding around her before spreading her arms and hugging as many as she could close to her body. “But how far ahead is he compared to me? A lot of fountain of youth water and a ton of fruits of knowledge. Not to mention Stella’s imprint, which I’m still not sure of the effects. But that should be it, right? Unless he got more powerful? No, that shouldn’t be possible…, well, he does have to pick a subclass still. But I doubt he will.”

“What are you talking to yourself about?” Emile asked, nudging her stomach with his head.

“It’s nothing,” Tafel said and patted his head. “I was just thinking of how close I am to my goal. I want to be stronger than my husband.”

“You’re only close to your goal?” Emile asked. “After becoming my older sister?”

Tafel grunted. “My husband is stupidly powerful,” she said. “That means he can be stupid and have everything go his way regardless because of his overwhelming strength. He was imprinted by a dragon.”

“A dragon?” Emile asked, his eyes widening. “Our brother-in-law’s a dragon?” The other phoenixes chirped and stared at Tafel.

Tafel bit her lower lip. “Err, do dragons and phoenixes not get along?”

“There can only be one ruler of the skies!” Emile shouted as he puffed his feathers out. “And that’s us!”

“Hush, Emile,” one of the phoenixes said and smacked his head with her wing. “Momma said we have to share that position.”

Emile stuck his tongue out at his sister before deflating. “Well, that’s how it is,” he said to Tafel with a nod. “Friendly competition to teach the dragons their place!”

A wry smile appeared on Tafel’s lips. “Does this friendly competition happen often?”

“The last one of fifty years ago,” Emile said with a nod. “It was a cherry-picking contest. We won!”

“That’s because the dragon’s claws were too big,” one of the phoenixes said and laughed. “They kept crushing the cherries when they tried to pick them.”

Emile puffed his chest out. “I thought up the contest.”

“A cherry-picking contest between phoenixes and dragons…?” Tafel asked. “Is that how two legendary beasts should compete? Wait! Before that, did you say fifty years ago?”

“Yeah, fifty years ago,” Emile said with a nod.

Tafel’s expression darkened. “How old are you?”

“I’m one hundred and fifty-three,” Emile said. “How old are you, elder sis? Seven hundred? Eight hundred?”

Tafel’s expression darkened even further. “I’m almost seventeen…. Wait, no, my birthday passed a few days ago, didn’t it? I’m seventeen.”

“Seventeen … centuries?” Emile asked.

“No.”

“Millennia…?”

“No! Seventeen years! Demons become adults at sixteen.”

“Whatever you say,” Emile said. He blinked and chuckled. “Baby sis.”

“I’m going to smack you,” Tafel said. “I’m definitely older in proportionate terms.”