---
And the entire column of light twisted upward, streaming like a fire tornado toward the cavern's roof. Then it punched through, spiraling through cracks in the volcanic ceiling, tearing toward the heavens like a comet made of flame and memory.
Fenna looked up, her mouth open in silent awe. Through the ruptured stone dome, she saw the sky.
It was still dark. But high above, where dawn had not yet touched the world, a new light blazed.
The ember-mana that had been the Matron streaked across the firmament. It was gathering, condensing, and soaring.
It arced toward the east. Toward the rising sun.
And as it vanished into the golden disk of morning, the light did not fade. The sun shone brighter. As if welcoming its daughter home.
Fenna didn't weep. Not this time. She stood slowly, Emberling clutched to her chest, and raised her wrist.
There, etched faintly but glowing beneath the skin, was a delicate phoenix-shaped mark. It pulsed once. Warmth flooded her palm.
