Vur’s fist crashed through the purple barrier, shattering it into thousands of tiny pieces. A gust of cold air surged past the group, causing the two phoenixes to shudder. Tafel took a step back and shivered, a chill running down her spine. It wasn’t just the cold. There was something about the air that made her want to retreat. She took a step to the side, blocking half her body with Vur’s. She peered through the hole left behind by the destroyed barrier and frowned. There were dozens of bones belonging to various birds. White frost coated the surface of the bones, causing them to appear sharp and jagged.

“Are those … phoenix bones?” Emile asked and gulped. He flapped his wings once before settling them back against his sides, not caring about the fact he threw the Recordkeeper’s hair into disorder. “But that’s impossible! When phoenixes die, they turn to ashes and come back to life!”

“Is it because they’re frozen?” Susan asked. “Maybe the temperature was too low for them to burst into flames.”

“Do the two of you really think phoenixes are immortal?” the Recordkeeper asked, her head shifting from Emile to Susan. “If that were really the case, where did the phoenixes go? If they were immortal, they would be the only creatures left in existence. They’d reproduce nonstop, and eventually, there’d be enough phoenixes to blot out the sun.”

“But, but our mom told us so,” Emile said. “If we die, we’ll burst into flames, become ash, and come back to life as a baby.”

“Yes, you’ll burst into flames, turn to ash, and from your ashes, you’ll be reborn,” the Recordkeeper said. “But what do you think will happen if your ashes are scattered before you can be reborn? What do you think will happen if you’re unable to burst into flames? It’s possible for phoenixes to live forever, something that very few creatures can boast about, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible for your existence to cease.”

Emile fell silent. “There’s other creatures that can live forever too?”

“Some jellyfish, some turtles, some flatworms. It’s really not that impressive when you think about it,” the Recordkeeper said. “Phoenixes are just known for it because most of the other creatures that can live forever live in the ocean. They just aren’t noticed.”

“We’re only as special as turtles…?” Emile asked, his voice drifting off. His head hung downwards, and his tail drooped. A moment later, he raised his head. “I’ll show you ceasing to exist! If I melt the ice, I can bring all these phoenixes back to life!” He flapped his wings and jumped off the Recordkeeper’s shoulder. He took in a deep breath and exhaled out a giant ball of phoenix flames. They surged into the hole and washed over the frozen bones, but nothing happened.

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Emile frowned. “What kind of ice is this?”

“If it was cold enough to prevent the phoenixes from bursting into flames, what makes you think you’ll be able to melt it with your flames?” the Recordkeeper asked. “You’re not even an adult yet. If you want to melt this ice with your own ability, you’ll have to be even stronger than your mother.”

Emile snorted. “Susan, get over here and help me.” He glared at Tafel. “You too!”

Susan jumped off of the Recordkeeper’s shoulder and landed on the ground underneath Emile. Tafel frowned, but she went over to the two phoenixes and summoned some phoenix flames around her. She glanced at Vur. “You learned a few skills from Minerva, right? Help us thaw these bones out.”

Vur scratched his head. “I thought you didn’t want to create the bonfire anymore,” he said. He shrugged and exhaled. Phoenix flames filled the cavern and the tunnel behind him, bathing the whole place in flames.

Emile and Susan glanced at each other. “How come Vur’s a better phoenix than us when he’s a dragon?” Susan asked.

“Who cares?” Emile rolled his eyes. He focused on a set of bones in the corner and blew out a jet of flames. Susan shrugged and copied Emile, focusing on the same set of bones as him. Tafel added her flames as well, and the set of bones couldn’t be seen underneath the flames.

The Recordkeeper fanned herself with her hands and wings, but she couldn’t stop her skin from turning red or stop the beads of sweat from forming on her forehead. She glanced around. The ice didn’t seem to be thawing. A burning pain struck her wing, and she let out a yelp. “Hey, Vur! Be careful with your flames!”

Vur turned his head. He blinked at the Recordkeeper. “That wasn’t me,” he said. He pointed a little to the left of the winged woman. “One of your wings is missing.”

“Huh?” The Recordkeeper turned around. Nearly all of her right wing was gone. All that remained was a bleeding stump with a few feathers dangling off of it. Blood dripped to the ground as the Recordkeeper stared in silence. Under everyone’s gaze, she poked the bloody stump and flinched. She raised her head. “I know I didn’t use it much, but losing a wing is still a major bummer.”

“Is that all you have to say?” Tafel asked. “Is this a regular occurrence? Why don’t you sound the least bit concerned? How the heck did you even lose a wing?”

The Recordkeeper sighed. “You guys created such a big fire even after knowing it could attract a kirlopion. I did tell you kirlopions are invisible. If you put two and two together—which is quite hard for you, I’m sure—but if you tried really hard, you’d come to the conclusion that a kirlopion ate my wing.”

Emile gulped and looked around. There was no sign of a kirlopion anywhere. With the flames Vur had spread around, it should’ve displaced some, revealing its rough location. Since he couldn’t find the kirlopion anywhere, he took the best course of action he could think of. He flew towards Tafel and dug his way into her robes despite her protests, hiding himself from view. “What are you waiting for?” he shouted. “Get us out of here!”