Dirga slept soundly, deep and unmoving.
His breaths came heavy and steady, a soft rumble in his chest like distant thunder.
Beside him, the silver tiger dozed with its body curled around his side, emitting a low, rhythmic purr that vibrated softly through the earth.
Then—
A ripple tore through space.
A portal shimmered into being above the garden clearing, glowing like molten glass.
From its center, a bird wreathed in flame emerged, wings spread wide.
Fire licked across its feathers, yet the air was not burned. It was warm—gentle, like morning sun on skin.
But with every wingbeat, the warmth grew… until it seared.
The heat wrapped around Dirga like a tightening coil.
He stirred.
Then he groaned.
Then—
"Urgh, it's hot…"
His eyes snapped open.
Hovering above him was a phoenix.
No—a phoenix. Not just fire and feathers, but something ancient and powerful. The flames around it danced without burning the leaves below. Its gaze bore into him—regal, calculating, immortal.
