The trek to the Phoenix Covert was short according to Prota, but Ataria now suspected either the jerk had lied or their arth enjoyed leading them in circles on purpose.

She sighed, sluggishly following the girl in front of her. Her golden brown wings fluttered to catch her balance more than once to prevent her tripping on her own feathers.

The children followed their arth in a somewhat steady line, reminiscent of little ducklings following their mother. Although just thinking of the comparison insulted her a little.

She wasn't the only one complaining, of course. It'd be impossible to expect any of them to be patient, moments away from the Selection and their ceremony, on the cusp of their fourteenth blood year, as they all were.

A boy at the front of the line echoed a frustrated groan from the back.

"Oh please Arda, are we there yet?!" Another eaglet Ataria thought was named Rondus finally snapped.

The young adult's laugh was nothing but amused, bordering on mocking. "If you expect to be chosen by your companion today, Rodar, I suspect you might be disappointed. Impatience will not make your phoenix come faster."

Giggles burst from the children, even as the embarrassed boy sputtered and flushed red, spotted wings curling in.

Ataria snorted, keeping her gaze on the forest floor, making sure she didn't trip on trees' roots or the wings of the person in front of her. Only by some miracle were her ceremonial braids still tied to her forehead, not unraveling even as she fiddled with the cord. She had her mother to thank for that.

She sighed for the fifth time when her bare foot stepped on a squishy mushroom and winced. Why couldn't they just fly over there? Better if they were not seen, even if chances were low, said Arda. As safe as their Peaks were, the safety of the Covert came first, always.

"Psst." An elbow nudged her ribs, as another eaglet leaned to whisper. "How long until we reach the Grove?"

Ataria shrugged noncommittally, "Prota said it wouldn't be longer than two hours."

The other girl groaned, young features pouting as she stepped on a branch with some force. "Prota is such a liar! The other day he said that there were blue roots growing on the other side of the hill!"

Ataria tried to contain her laugh, a weird, wet sound squeaking from her nose at the attempt. "Everyone knows blue roots aren't real, Amita."

Her comment did nothing but annoy Amita further and she huffed, black feathers puffing slightly. Her own ceremonial braids had already suffered smacks from branches. The chaotic remains of her barely recognizable black braids framed her sweet face.

"W-well, it doesn't matter anyway, as long as my phoenix comes!" The girl stuttered, flushed in embarrassment.

Ataria shook her head, humming, hoping that would abstain Amita from continuing the conversation. For a child fourteen blood years past, she was quieter than most; a stark difference from the excited chatter that came from the rest of the eaglets following Arda.

She had been with this same group for over five years, yet she hadn't made a true friend. They were either too loud or too withdrawn for her to approach any of them more than once. It chagrined her to admit that most of her twenty something aermates' names remained unknown to her.

Prota, her distant cousin, continued to be her sole friend so far in their village. Two years ago he had gone through his Selection, and Proma and he were known for being the most mischievous ekrye-tied seen in the last decade, often being chased out of the sheep pens.

Ataria thought it was all a bunch of guano. Prota was fun to be around, and no other phoenix—except maybe her father's—beat Proma's beauty in her opinion.

Her deep duke blue feathers reflected almost all of dusk's colors under the right light. The seamless shift between her head's purple feathers and the red on her chest never failed to captivate.

She couldn't wait to meet her own match. Which was why she patiently followed Arda, despite her feet aching from three hours on foot plus her sister Rhona's cries waking her before the sun rose. With childish haughtiness, she thought her phoenix had better appreciate her patience and calm at the whole thing.

Amita gave up on making conversation with her, having caught on that Ataria wasn't really into it. A child's attention is a fickle thing, when there's something more interesting in sight. The other girl scampered off to talk to another eaglet, unbothered by Ataria's lack of social skills.

Left alone with her thoughts to dodge squishy mushrooms and follow Arda in silence, she entertained herself with her surroundings, content with observing the forest and leaf shadows projected on the grass.

As virgin forests usually do, this phoenix forest had no paths or roads across it. Its greenery covered most of the Peaks' south side, including the sea facing cliffs. It was perfect phoenix territory; close enough to their village that the eaglets' Selection could take place there but far enough that if armies attacked the village, no harm would come to the magical creatures.

The trees rose to keep out unwanted eyes, leaves layering over their heads while lower branches closed off imaginable paths, as if they were attempting to make them lose their way. Even though Ataria had been paying close attention to her surroundings, she had to admit that without Arda, they'd probably all get lost if they had no wings.

Of course, Arda would have their hide for even considering it. Tradition forbade wing use during the Selection to find their way, much less to attract a phoenix or go searching for one. Everyone knew the rules; no Athros chose their phoenix. Phoenixes did the choosing.

Ataria knew it was different for their sibling tribes-well, it wasn't like she had met any non-Athros before, but she supposed it was different. Sometimes she sat in her bed and fantasized about what it'd be like to train a dragon. Or a fire esprit. She'd imagine herself running her hands down scales as red as her hair, or whispering to the fire in the hearth. Then she'd blink and remember that Athros were phoenix tamers. Not dragon tamers, nor fire esprit tamers.

Fantasizing about it was all fine, her father told her, as long as she didn't run off to find any new friends.

To be fair, there weren't that many of them left. Her parents didn't like to speak to her about it, but sometimes she could hear clipped conversations during the night, when they thought their children were asleep. There were less than three hundred of her people left; hundreds of phoenixes left alone in their coverts or wandering the outside dangers without their other half.

All parents feared the day the armies came to their village and burnt their children. Prota had told her that was what they liked to do, those humans and elves. Humiliate them by burning them to death with the one thing they worshipped and loved.

Ataria shivered to think about it. Only phoenors could die from fire. And to become one, you had to lose your phoenix. Even though she didn't have hers yet, she couldn't imagine a greater pain than losing the other half of yourself only to die from what used to protect you and warm you. She heard stories from the juveniles that some went insane after losing their phoenix. They said it was like losing your wings and all of your limbs.

While she was excited to find her life-long companion, she also was quite aware of what it meant. Being old enough to get a phoenix meant being old enough to know that you could die any day; it meant being possibly sent outside the village.
Wanting to know the world outside and knowing what the world outside the village was like were two things poles apart from each other. Despite still being an eaglet, she was under no illusion that their village was safe, tucked away in their little corner of the mountains.

The war outside their village raged on, and every day the old races were pushed further back. She understood enough to know that it wouldn't be long before her village had to relocate to somewhere safer, somewhere the wingless couldn't reach.

Still, she could hope the day was far enough away that her baby sister would already have her own phoenix, and her older brother and herself would be sentinels together.

It was a nice thought.

Another hour passed before Arda finally stopped, cane thumping on a root to catch their attention.

Chatter quieted instantly, a ruffle of wings echoing throughout the line of children as suddenly, they all vibrated with excitement.

Their arthal had stopped in front of a rock as big as Arda himself; a marker. Ataria stilled and listened closely, straining her ears. Beyond the rock came whispers of a phoenix song, a soft melodic whistle accompanied by others, a rising harmony.
Other children noticed as well and stilled, listening in rapt attention, those small eyes bright with awe that comes with ignorance of the wonderfully unfamiliar.

Arda slammed his cane down once again. He straightened himself up, brushing off imaginary dirt from his spotless leather jerkin. His phoenix Ridris sat on a branch, red chest puffed up as if he were a distinguished lord. Somehow more chastising than Arda's own usual glare, black beady eyes stared down at the children.

"Beyond this rock is the Covert. Here you will become part of our flock, our village; our eyrie." Arda's voice rose over the sounds of the forest, leaving no space as to question who was their arth. "You shall not use your wings to fly or move. You shall not call out to your phoenix. You will respectfully wander the Covert's territory with the honor of the hundreds that came before you."

Arda's sudden attitude change proved to be awe-gathering. It brought the eaglets to awed nervous silence in a single moment, efficient like few teachers are when trying to control their pupils. One had to strain their ears just to hear the slight ruffling of their wings with nerves.

Ataria gulped, a hand fiddling with the edge of her cream robes, tracing the flame embroidery. Invisible weight weighed down the atmosphere, swiftly turned heavy with pressure and duty, as phoenixes' songs grew in volume beyond the rock.
She risked a peak over Arda's shoulder, but only gleaned the sight of more trees in shadow and a slight glow coming from beyond lush branches.

"Past this rock, you will no longer be part of this arthal. Like your ancestors before you, you will be chosen by your phoenix; you will be one ekrye in two bodies." Arda exclaimed, green eyes pinning them all down with a serious frown. "You will go through the Selection, and afterwards, the ceremony for your Initiation shall begin. Head into the Covert with an open and sure heart, know phoenixes cannot be lied to." Arda's gaze narrowed on a couple of children, and then he and Ridris bowed their heads to them and stepped aside.

There were a couple of seconds before the first child stepped forward with unsure steps, walking into the Covert. He disappeared behind a tree soon enough.

A girl followed him, then another, then another boy, then another, and the line grew shorter and shorter, as children walked into the deepest part of the forest on their own, unable to use their wings to find their way out, with no guide but their heart.

Ataria held no silly pride; experience gave her confidence in her ability to traverse the forest using her senses. Even if she couldn't find her way out easily on her own, it'd be fine. Her phoenix would guide her out.
Soon she lost count of how many had gone forth and there were no more children in front of her. She glanced at Arda.

The young man gave her a subtle nod and smile, chestnut hair bobbing with the slight movement as Ridris perched on his shoulder. Phoenix eyes stared, then came a slight head tilt. She guessed it was supposed to be an encouraging nudge.

Ataria winced, breathing deep. She stepped beyond that rock that towered over her, grey stone passing her by.
She had the feeling that was her first step into adulthood.

/

Hope you enjoyed this first taste of my fantasy story! This story will be full of conflict and emotional struggles, as the characters face difficult scenarios, and we'll get to see characters grow from children into teenagers and eventually, adults.

In a world that is no longer welcoming to the Eagle-People, what can they do but adapt as circumstances change, or worse; a threat comes knocking down their doors.

Please don't forget to vote and comment, thank you <3 for reading!