Chapter 6: Ashes and Wings
Zaeden – POV
That night, as sleep finally claimed me, the world shifted.
I stood in a field of ash—gray, lifeless, like the world had burned down to its bones.
Above, a red sky bled smoke and scattered embers like dying stars.
There was nothing.
No voices. No trees. No wind.
Only flame.
Pillars of fire danced on the horizon, forming silent walls around me. I tried to move, but the ground beneath my feet crumbled with every step—charred and brittle, like the bones of a forgotten world.
Then, a sound echoed through the silence.
A single, long, haunting cry. Not human. Not beast.
I looked up.
A massive shadow loomed above. A great bird, its wings wreathed in gold and sapphire flame, eyes twin orbs of molten light. It soared in slow, divine circles over the dead world—watching.
Waiting.
Then it dove.
I didn't run.
I couldn't.
It fell from the heavens like a comet, trailing flames. The heat was unbearable. My skin cracked. My lungs burned.
Still, I didn't move.
It landed with a soundless impact. Not a quake—a silence. Like the world itself held its breath.
Then it spoke—not with words, but with presence. With will.
"Why are you still standing?"
I didn't know.
But I answered anyway.
"Because I'm not afraid of fire."
Its eyes narrowed, glowing hotter.
"You should be. It consumes everything."
I met its gaze. "Then I'll become something it can't burn."
The flames flared higher—bright, blinding. A whirlwind of ash and light lifted me off my feet.
And in that moment, I felt something strange:
Recognition.
As if the creature already knew me. As if it had been waiting.
Then, it vanished.
The field turned to feathers.
The sky turned white.
And I woke—breathless, sweating, my fingers clenched around my neck.
It was warm.
Hot, even.
Like it had been kissed by fire.
And when the dream burned away, the world was still cruel.
The dream left heat in my chest—and something deeper. A purpose.
⸻
My father woke me before sunrise.
"Son… I need to tell you something."
He tried to sound steady, but the pain in his voice betrayed him.
I blinked up at him, feigning confusion. "What is it?" I asked quietly, though I already knew.
"You're being sold," he said, blunt and quick—like tearing off a bandage. "To a noble family. So your mother, your sister, and I can survive."
His voice cracked at the end. Cold morning air slipped in through the cracked window, but it was his words that chilled me.
"I see," I murmured, keeping my tone even.
But the sadness still leaked through.
"I'm going to miss you, Dad."
He looked away, then pulled me into a tight embrace. For a man who had always stood tall and stoic, he felt impossibly small in that moment.
"You'll be safe," he whispered. "And we'll take care of your sister."
I hugged him tighter.
"I'll see you again someday. You, Mom, and my little sister. I promise."
"Someday," he echoed, clinging to the word like it was all he had left.
My mother entered, eyes red, face pale. She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around me.
"Zaeden… please come back to us soon," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.
"I will," I replied, voice shaking. "No matter what."
We held each other for a while—clinging to the moment. But time, cruel and uncaring, marched on.
Eventually, we let go.
⸻
The morning was eerily quiet. No birdsong. No breeze. Just a stillness that wrapped around everything like a shroud.
I stood outside our home, a small satchel slung over my shoulder. Inside: dried food, ink and parchment, a small knife, and a wooden bird carving I'd made for my unborn sister.
My parents stood beside me, silent.
After a long pause, my mother knelt and cupped my face.
"You'll be okay out there, won't you?"
I smiled faintly. "I'll be more than okay. This isn't goodbye—it's step one."
She pulled me into a final hug. "I'm sorry we couldn't do more."
"You did everything," I whispered.
Then my father stepped forward and pressed something into my palm.
A small pendant—weathered, shaped like a shield. Scratched and old, but solid. Etched in the center: a phoenix wreathed in flame.
"It was my father's," he said. "He claimed it kept him safe in storms. Maybe it's nonsense… but it's yours now."
I nodded and clenched it tight. "Thank you."
No tears came.
I'd already shed them in my mind.
A rickety carriage rolled up the path, bearing the crest of a minor noble house.
My buyer had arrived.
It was time.
No more hesitation. No more aching regret. I need to think clearly—no more mistakes like what happened with Dawn. To win, I must use my mind. Always.
⸻
The journey began in silence.
Five other children rode with me in the wagon—some crying, others curled up, half-asleep. All of them afraid.
But I didn't cry.
I observed.
I memorized the wagon's structure—the grain of the wood, the placement of beams, the weak joints. I chose my seat carefully: rear left, beside the central support beam.
Five moves ahead.
It saved my life.
Because as we crested a ridge into a forested valley, the sky changed.
A shadow fell over us.
The horses screamed.
Then came the fire.
A golden inferno rained from above. Trees ignited like paper, their branches curling in the heat. The lead carriage didn't even scream—it simply vanished, consumed in an instant.
Amid the chaos, my mind betrayed me.
I saw her.
Dawn—eyes wide, mouth open, still screaming. Still waiting.
Waiting for someone to save her.
But no one came then.
Just like no one would now.
Screams pierced the air—real, this time. Wood shattered as the second carriage split apart beside me. The world was burning. And I was in the center of it.
Then—the roar.
A colossal figure descended from the clouds, wings wreathed in celestial flame.
A Phoenix.
Its cry shattered the sky. A wave of heat followed, incinerating everything in its path. The cart flipped, splintered.
I curled into the space I'd chosen, shielding my head as fire and debris tore around me.
The center beam held—barely. If I'd sat anywhere else, I'd be dead.
When the chaos faded—
Only I remained.
⸻
A claw, massive as a tree trunk, slammed into the earth before me. I looked up.
The Phoenix loomed overhead—its feathers a storm of crimson, gold, and sapphire flame. Its eyes burned with wisdom that spanned centuries.
Its voice echoed in my mind:
"Human child… why do you not tremble?"
I stood, scorched and battered—but calm.
"I expected danger," I said. "This world is too cruel for safe travels."
Its gaze narrowed.
"You expected me?"
"No," I admitted. "But I accounted for magical beast attacks. That's why I chose my seat."
A pause.
"Clever. Very few think like that. Fewer survive."
I activated the Minor Blessing of Beast Taming, reaching out with my soul—not words, but instinct.
"I understand you," I said, my voice echoing in the ancient tongue of flame-born creatures.
The Phoenix recoiled slightly.
"Impossible… You are no summoner. No druid. Yet your soul speaks our tongue."
I bowed slightly. "I am Zaeden D'Angelo. I was not born to serve, but to rise. I don't ask for your servitude, Phoenix. I offer an alliance."
"Alliance?"
"Yes. You've seen empires rise and fall. Mortals waste their gifts. I offer you a place in something different. A kingdom built not on blood… but brilliance."
His wings folded in. The fire flickered softly around him.
"You ask much, child."
"I offer more. The world is about to change. Be there when it does… or be left behind."
Silence.
Then, his fire surged again, surrounding us with heat and power.
"I am Ashuron, the Ever-Flame. Last of the Primordial Phoenixes—born before kings, older than crowns."
"I accept your pact, Zaeden D'Angelo."
Magic crackled in the air. A vortex of fire spiraled into the sky. The bond was sealed.
Ashuron the Phoenix has joined you as a Contracted Mythical Beast.
Suddenly, heat surged through my arm—sharp and precise. I hissed, clenching my fist as a mark burned itself into my palm, searing gold into flesh.
When the pain subsided, I opened my hand.
A symbol now gleamed there—elegant, ancient. A single wing wreathed in flame, etched in light.
A pact forged in fire.
"I want to test you," Ashuron said, his voice simmering like a low flame. "I need to see how capable you truly are."
A test.
Fair enough. But what kind?
Combat? Strategy? Magic?
"What kind of test?" I asked calmly.
"One that challenges your mind," he replied. "I want a partner with intelligence."
That made sense.
I wasn't worried.
A test of the mind?
That was my specialty.
"After all," he added, fire flaring slightly around his wings, "I am Ashuron, the Ever-Flame. Last of the Primordial Phoenixes."
"Yeah, yeah. Some ancient firebird," I muttered under my breath.
"Watch your tone," he growled. "I'm young for a phoenix."
"What's that, like… 2,000 years?"
"Wrong. I'm only 2,400."
…That's worse.
"Right. My bad," I said flatly. "You're practically a hatchling."
"Exactly."
As the last embers faded from the sky, I noticed Ashuron staring—not at me, but at the pendant around my neck.
The one my father had given me.
His gaze lingered, no longer regal, but… haunted.
"What is it?" I asked. "The pendant—do you recognize it?"
He didn't answer.
But the look in his eyes wasn't confusion.
It was recognition.
And beneath that—something else.
Fear.
He said no more.
I held the question—for now.
Trust must be built before truth is shared.
⸻
We soared through the sky, his wings cleaving the clouds like thunder.
Below us, the forest still smoldered. Ash. Cinders.
From death came rebirth.
From ashes came wings,
And I… I was no longer a boy sold into chains.
I was a spark. A flame with purpose.
In that moment, the world didn't just burn.
It was reborn with me.