Chirp! Chirp!

The tiny bird called out, its voice week yet so loud in the stillness of the night. It tired to flap it wings, but only managed awkward little jumps, struggling to reach me.

My lips trembled. As panic and terror was about to overwhelm me into another scream, I was pulled sharply to the side, into a warm, tight embrace. —

“Hush, my dear, hush. It was but a dream.” Mira repeated, her sweet voice melting through the haze of fear, soft and soothing. The sound, the warmth of her arms, made the nightmare feel small, insignificant in her presence. But... it wasn’t entirely gone. Somewhere, deep within the comforting warmth of her hug, I could still feel it. A lingering coldness. Distant, but there. Waiting. Lurking.

Instinctively, my gaze drifted to the window. The crimson light spilled through, harsh and glaring. I forced my eyes to stay open, blinking away the sting of the red glow. There was nothing there. No shadow. No tapping on the glass.

A sigh of relief began to loosen the tension in my chest. But still, it was nowhere near enough. My body was stiff, and unmoving, trapped between the warm comfort and the unshakable dread. Dread of which was climbing on top of me.

“W-what is that?” I whispered, my voice shaky. I glanced at Mira, who, in her drowsy state, could barely see in front of her, much less find an explanation for the alien bird.

Before she could respond, the tiny bird fluttered free of the reddened light. Its once-crimson feathers dulled, changing... fading.

My breath hitched in my throat, my eyes darting to the nightstand.

The egg.

Where the small, white-feathered egg should have been, only shattered shell fragments remained.

“M-mum, I’m scared.” I whispered, trembling as the tiny phoenix took its first step onto my body. Its small toes were warm to the touch, the sensation making my hair stand on end. It wasn’t painful, but... unsettling, like tiny needles pressing through my clothes, each one tingling sharply against my back.

The bird was so light, its weight barely noticeable, and yet... it felt like a mountain pressing down on me. I couldn’t move. Every slight shift it made sent a new wave of tingling unease crawling across my skin.

Then it stopped. And... I squeezed my eyes shut, terrified of what might come next.

Only then did I hear Mira’s voice again, a bit more colorful and much more soothing than before, cutting through the fear like a warm blanket.

“It’s okay, Lyon. I’m here—Mum’s here, remember?”

Her voice and embrace were comforting, but it was the tiny phoenix’s next move that made my eyes fly open, wide and startled.

It... it was rubbing its small head against my tattoo.

A strangled, terrified yelp escaped my throat, and without thinking, I flung the bird off me.

It chirped weakly and landed on the blanket, immediately trying to climb back toward me.

“Take it away! Take it away!” I screamed, pushing it off every time it got close. And each time, it stood back up and started climbing again.

“Lyon, sweetheart, it’s just a small bird. It won’t hurt you.” Mira’s arms loosened as she leaned forward, reaching for the tiny bird of the sun.

“No! Don’t!” I shouted, but it was too late—her hand had already touched the phoenix.

My heart clenched, expecting her to burst into flames, for everything to burn, our home, her, everything. But nothing happened.

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The little phoenix let out a soft chirp, calm, as Mira gently lifted it into her hands and brought it closer to me.

Instinctively, I backed up, scrambling to the end of the bed, only stopping when Mira gently pulled me back toward her.

“See?” she said, her voice patient and kind. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, my dear. Its just a small tiny bird looking for its own mum like you did. But I guess it would be a dad in its case.”

She held the small, fiery creature in her hands, and it tried to stretch its beak toward me, wobbling as it fought against her gentle grip. It shook its head back and forth in frustration, trying to free itself.

It was... kinda funny. And slowly, bit by bit, the tight knot of fear in my chest began to unwind.

I found the courage to reach out and take it in my own hands.

I stared at it. It stared back. I tilted my head to the side, and it did the same.

Then, I frowned. “But I am not its-“

Suddenly, cutting through my sentence and the raging emotions I was feeling, a flood of different emotions—joy, wonder, familiarity, warmth—washed over me all at once.

They... there were the phoenix’s.

I couldn’t explain it. I just... knew.

It made no sense and, further than that, it made my rage full even more.

How could I possibly feel anything like that toward the creature that, if it weren’t for it, its mother wouldn’t had taken everything from me? It had destroyed... everything. Even my own body was unrecognizable.

It had earned a very tight spot on my heart. A spot which burned with pure hatred.

Yet here I was, feeling warmth and joy in its presence.

My grip tightened around the tiny bird. It was so fragile, so small. I could crush it in an instant. Just a little more pressure, and it would all be over.

The phoenix let out a soft, pained squawk, and suddenly, Mira’s hands were on mine, holding them firmly.

“Lyon... don’t,” she whispered, her emerald eyes holding emotions she didn’t speak aloud. It wasn’t a threat, nor a warning. It wasn’t even about the phoenix. It was a simple plea—a plea filled with so much emotion, I couldn’t even begin to explain it. In the end, I loosened my grip and let the phoenix go free.

As much as I hated the mythical creature, this tiny bird wasn’t the one that burned everything to ash. Like Mira said, it was just a small baby, searching for its... dad. And while I didn’t quite understand her reasoning, I wasn’t going to kill it for something it hadn’t done.

As I released it, the phoenix chirped again, and its joyful emotions washed over me, warm and pure. After a few more attempts, another wave of happiness radiated from the tiny creature as it defied all logic, lifting itself into the air.

What took normal birds weeks, the phoenix achieved in mere minutes.

‘It’s mythical for a reason,’ I reminded myself, watching it flutter in circles above the bed, its wings briefly catching the crimson moonlight.

Only then did I find the words to ask, “Mum,” I whispered, inching closer to her. The steady beat of her heart calmed me, the drowsiness slowly returning. “Why is the moon red?”

“That’s...” she began, her voice trailing off into a soft sigh. She shifted, wrapping her arms tighter around me, her hand stroking my hair gently. When she spoke again, her voice was weaker, sleep creeping over her. “We’ll talk about it in the morning. Go to sleep now, my dear, let the Crimson Moon guide your dreams.”

My body was relaxed, but my mind raced. “What about the phoenix?” I asked, glancing at the small creature. As if sensing my concern, it nestled back into its shattered eggshell, curling into its mother’s feather for warmth.

“Let it be,” Mira murmured, her voice heavy with exhaustion.

“Can we stay like this for a little longer?” I asked, still scared of the darkness behind my eyelids.

“Of course,” she whispered, kissing me on the forehead. Her rhythmic strokes through my hair lulled me to sleep before I even realized.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in the familiar darkness, the same echoing sound reaching my ears.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

Tears welled up as my breathing grew shallow and raspy. I tried to hold them back, but they came anyway.

Why was I back in the nightmare? Why wouldn’t it stop?

Tap... Tap...

The tapping paused with a sharp turn toward the window, then became a heavy thud.

I clung to Mira’s nightdress, not wanting to face this nightmare again.

What did I do to deserve this?

I tired to remember the insidious whispers and their message, however, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember what they’d said.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The door slammed repeatedly, and I felt completely alone. Fear filled me, but I wanted it all to end.

So, I stopped thinking. I stopped being afraid.

Numbness took over as I ran down the staircase and threw open the door.

There, the shadow stood pointing at me, but something else caught my attention from the corner of my eye.

Spinning around, I saw the small phoenix perched on a tree branch. Its eyes were fixed on the shadow, and just as the darkness began to pool beneath it, the bird let out a deafening caw—one no baby bird could ever make.

In an instant, a blinding white light erupted from its tiny body, filling the sky with the missing stars and moon. The moment the light touched the shadow, white flames engulfed it, burning it away completely.

Then, it was my turn to burn, however, pain never came. Instead, I was welcomed by the flames, burning away my fear in their warmth.

As the world around me turned into white light, my eyes opened.

It was morning.