The Phoenix Grove wasn't that different from the parts of the forest they had traversed to get there.

Except the trees loomed over her and shut out the blue sky almost completely. Branches curled over her head like vines and roots snaked across dirt and grass until they burrowed into the ground.

Greens and browns spread as far as her eyes could see. She had to squint just to see the silhouettes of what was ahead, and even then she couldn't distinguish the shapes of the trees further than forty feet.

Her lips pursed. Her sight had never been so limited before, and she had to admit the way the trees appeared to morph into a blanket of green and brown hues further away was disconcerting to her eagle eyes.

She wondered if she was just supposed to walk in circles, or straight ahead. There was no path at all, of course. No manner of guide or sign that would tell her the way to her phoenix, unfortunately.

Through the trees and branches whispered a low melodic whistle, faint glowing colors peaking through leaves. A soft breeze caressed her bronze cheeks, blowing through her golden brown feathers, though she couldn't tell where it came from.

That low melodic whistle was the same one she had heard before entering the Covert. But now that she had crossed the border, it had quieted to an almost unnoticeable whistle in the wind. As if they were hiding from those that weren't their bonded, or at the very least, waiting for the right moment.

Ataria sighed. She had hoped she'd come out first, but now she believed her phoenix might take longer than she thought to come to her. She couldn't use her wings to attract her phoenix, nor could she fly to look for them; not exactly favourable to her.

She walked under the shadows of the trees, tempted to flap her wings but resisting the urge, bearing with the texture of the grass on the soles of her feet. Even after walking for what felt like hours, the faint glows hiding in the trees became no brighter, didn't seem any closer at all. Yet as she walked deeper inside, signs of the covert living there emerged.

Beneath a tall tree, feathers piled up in an array of warm tones, akin to a soft blanket dropped on the grass. She breathed and picked one up with reverence, running her fingers through the soft fibers.

She nearly dropped it when the feather scalded her skin, but it took her no longer than a moment to check and realize that her bronze skin was fine. This orange feather had detached recently, perhaps softer than the feathers of her parents' phoenixes because of that. It felt smoldering to the touch, but it couldn't harm her. She had forgotten that.

Still, it was uncomfortable to hold. She looked up into the thick branches, trying to spot the source of the feather pile. However, even if she could perceive the warm glow of the bird, the phoenix didn't seem keen on letting her see it.

She sighed in disappointment, but bowed to the tree in respect, understanding. Then a second time to ask for permission, because really, it would have been terribly rude and presumptuous of her otherwise, and then pocketed the soft orange feather. She could feel it through the fabric of her robes, but it was nothing like the scalding warmth from before. It'd probably end up in the fireplace at home, or in Orwe's growing collection.

How was she supposed to find her phoenix if they didn't even want to be seen?

Usually the phoenixes didn't hide from visitors, but during the Selection they made themselves as hard to spot as possible, even though they still glowed dimly. Arda told them they'd know when they were chosen; her parents told her it was to cross eyes with your reflection in the water. It sounded more abstract than she'd like it to be, but she supposed it made some sense.

Arda had been a bit more specific, though still vague and profound in the way young people cannot yet understand. He had told her it was to know yourself completely and reach inside, only to stare at the deepest parts of your self straight in the eye.

How she was supposed to do so without seeing them befuddled her.

Once or twice, she heard the familiar sound of footsteps nearby and stopped walking, but they quickly disappeared, followed by the sound of the faint melodic whistle in the air. Walking endlessly was her only strategy for now, even as the ache in her legs she had forgotten with the excitement returned and the sky changed hues.

Time flowed with a slow current here, somehow escaping her senses and attention, although she could clearly see the sky undergo distinct tones of blue, and then stain with warmer hues. Simultaneously, time stretched out before her in a painfully long manner. Though some part of her knew that scantly an hour or two could have passed, her legs and feet ached as if it had been at least a complete day.

She listened hard, hoping to hear the phoenix song call to her, but there was only that low whistle of the unknown melody in the wind.

The melody sounded strange, not because it was jarring to the ear for the notes it played, but because the smoothness of the tune evoked a feeling so warm and tight in her chest, it made her want to cry. It vexed her to know that she was only hearing an echo of it; a peek through the curtain at the authentic phoenix song. A song so old, they said it called out to the lost parts of themselves.

Ataria knew the stories of old by heart. She had sat to listen to Old Cath around the campfire many a night, had shared stories with her siblings. Those were the important stories, beyond the stories and rumors of adventurous warriors and dragons she liked to hear. The stories told around the campfire spoke of their past, of their identity, and of remembrance.

Sure, there were different versions of the story of their birth, of the origin of the phoenix song; there was one where they were created from hawks, another from eagles, others said that Mother Athalene created all winged beings-which was of course total bogus-some foolish ones declared they were sculpted from clay and fired in a kiln. In the end, all versions told the same story.

Although, like any other child, Ataria had a favorite version of this story, one she now recalled as she searched for her other half.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Back when the deities roamed this plane, in their first years of ruling, there were no eagle people or phoenixes.

The Fire Goddess, Mother Athalene, longed to create something with her own hand; she had helped with the creation of dragons and fairies, had taught the elves to use fire for their tools, had even cautioned the undine and animals against the dangers of fire, but there was no being she could call her child.

She watched her family give life to wonderful beings and people, one after another. She resolved to make her own children too.

She studied lifeforms she liked, looking for inspiration until she found it in a bird; a hawk. A magnificent bird with golden feathers like her own and a spark in its eyes that spoke of the knowledge of life, both as predator and prey.

Awed, Athalene asked for volunteers among them, willing to help with her creation. The hawks, honored, gifted her some of their unborn eggs and weak hatchlings.

A grateful Athalene took the gifts and gave them of her strength and her magic. By weaving the elemental magicks of fire into their very beings, these hawks turned into something new, became something other.

Of that wonderful merge, the blazefowls were born; birds of immense size and grandeur, with more wings that any other bird in the sky. Athalene rejoiced in her creation, her beloved companions and children. Blazefowls lived near the goddess, served her in love, consoled and aided her in times of need, and for years they thrived under her rule.

However, tragedy befell these noble creatures soon after their birth. During the terrible Black Years, they were attacked by forbidden magic; a spell so dark the wind silences its forbidden words when spoken.

The blazefowls fell down from the sky in grand balls of flame and came apart at the seams. Athalene wept in the face of this tremendous loss, unconsolable in her grief for her children.

Yet Mother Athalene didn't give up. In her forge, she worked tirelessly for days and nights on end to put her children back together. But even she couldn't rejoin the two pieces of her children. So she preserved them in the only way she knew; each piece was forged anew, in a different form. One preserved the likeness of a bird, while the other she sculpted to resemble herself.

But she discovered that even if the two parts lived separated, they were still one. Without each other, they went mad with agony. Most didn't last more than a year on their own.

So, hoping to gift them a chance for a happy, full life, she gave half a song to each of them. And she said to them,

"When you are of age, you will reunite every year. This is my gift to you, my children, who were unwoven by evil. This I give you, a song to recognize your ekrye-tied."

And so it was that the phoenixes and Eagle-people came to be. Two halves of the same ekrye pulled apart in battle and forged anew for survival.

The one in two. Two pieces of the same whole.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Guided only by her ears and whatever glow she could glimpse through the leaves, Ataria now followed that melodic tune further into the Covert, that divine gift.

The longer she walked, the more piles of feathers appeared, covering the grass in an astounding array of colors, from reds and oranges, to blues and purples; the hot hues she'd often find as she stared at the flames in the fireplace. She stopped more times than she would like to admit, just to admire the colorful feathers and the flooding amount of flora.

Ataria gasped softly as she spotted small flowers and unnamed plants appear under the feathers, seeming to grow out of the piles themselves. She'd have sworn that if one looked close enough, the leaves were made of the same fibers as the feathers. The air became lighter even as the trees blocked most of the sunlight, and a prickling in the breeze pecked at her skin. An intangible chord pulled at her chest, pulling her deeper into the forest.

This was truly phoenix territory.

Magic, she recognized. A place where life overflowed with energy, where unfamiliar plants and brilliant flowers sprouted from the warm magical feathers and vibrant teal moss covered almost all sight of tree bark.

She felt a sort of kinship with them, and she knew it to be the same thing that dwelled in phoenixes, and some part of herself.

Fire magick; fire that encouraged life with its heat just as much as it could scald skin if touched by the wrong hands. Just like the sun during the summer—whatever power she couldn't understand that dwelled there—gave life to all the plants, little bugs, and critters in this forest. It kept the woodland warm and safe during even the harshest of winters in the Fire Peaks, somehow maintaining a corner of summer paradise amongst the cold biting winds and stabbing icy rains. Few places remained untouched in such a way; still so full of magic that encouraged life and vitality.

She swallowed, both in excitement and slight intimidation. Her knowledge of magic stopped at knowing that her parents could will the flame of their candles to sleep at night, and that a few talented sentinels used it to heat their swords when the cheap metal broke and weld them back together. Everything else she knew was nothing but stories and rumors about the magic other races were capable of; impossible feats of nature and unnatural spells to corrupt the mind, illusions to trick the senses, and invisible shields.

While phoenixes held the natural magicks of fire, and the potential power dwelled in all Eagle-People, it was largely a thing meant to stay in the stories told around the campfire. Not a part of daily life in their small village.

Nonetheless, fear of the unknown would not deter her. Her feet stepped on a blanket of scalding feathers, and she finally traipsed into a not so tree dense clearing.

It became easy to ignore and forget the scalding feathers at her feet. She could only gape at the gleaming silhouettes of the magical birds in the trees, majestic not for their sizes, but the sheer power that radiated from them, pecking at her skin warmly. Whatever hint she could hear before of the melody the phoenixes were singing did no justice to the real thing.

The phoenix song flowed, fluid and irregular like the movement of the flames in a hearth, loud as the subtlety that lets you ignore the light of the fire or the sunshine for what it is, even when it's right beside you and its light glows on your skin. Yet even as it reminded her of a warm fire at home, from time to time, the notes slowed and transformed into a sad passage; they spoke of loneliness that clenched at souls and ate away the long years.

It was a calling home.

The sheer power of it brought her to tears as she realized that this was the center of the Covert, the Grove. She had reached a place rarely stepped on just by ear and foot. All that time she had spent walking, hoping to hear the phoenix song call out to her, she hadn't realized she was already following that call.

Trees no longer blocked the sky, and from where she stood, she could see the brightest glowing hues of the sunset sky. She hadn't realized just how much time had passed as she followed the melody.

She looked around, staring at the eyes of the phoenixes bold enough to stare back even for a moment, but there was no connection there, no instant knowing.

She despaired for a few moments, studying the figures of the phoenixes that perched on the branches and stared down at her, almost reverently curious, some tilting their heads or looking away. There was no click, no match in the stares that she received. Most of the phoenixes she was seeing were warm colored, though there were a few to her left that had purple and blue tones. None of their hues spoke to her.

The birds' beaks were open as they sang their song, beady eyes staring at her as they did. Ataria noticed that once they turned away from her gaze, their voice grew quieter amongst the harmony, though still present in the choir that was their covert.

She pursed her lips and sighed, tempted to put her wings on display and somehow call her phoenix to her. But she didn't. She kept strong and continued to stare at the phoenixes one by one, tears streaking down her face. She couldn't tell if it was because of the heartbreaking song or frustration.

As she continued to stare down phoenixes one by one, what was once a loud choir reduced to a lower hum. Tempted by the pressure of frustration and time to open her wings, her wings fluttered, but remained otherwise curled in and closed as tightly as she could bear. She powered through the frustration and the growing concern until the wind changed and the branches shook.

A whistle among the many broke through, ringing in her ears, standing out among the others. A tingle in the back of her mind confirmed it, and the notes that followed in their melody escaped her throat.

Ataria's head snapped back to follow the voice of that phoenix; to meet the one producing it. Her eyes met the deep void of herself.

It was the air that caressed her wings as she flew, the sun that shined upon her in the best days, the fierceness of loyalty, the potential inferno, the golden brown eyes that reflected her own; the void of self inside her very being, her essence; her ekrye made tangible.

Staring into your void of being, your ekrye itself, is no simple thing and can hardly be described by words; there are no words in any language that can do justice to what an ekrye-bond is.

But Ataria reckons it's looking at yourself and knowing the parts that make you, even ones you weren't aware of and cannot acknowledge, parts that may never even show themselves in a lifetime. It is to recognize your flaws and face them with courage. Know that you are neither wholly good nor bad, just as there are not two parts of yourself, phoenix and eagle; it is all equal, interwoven.

Like waking from a dream, she came back to herself, feeling the knowledge of her existence be swept away by the flesh of that body. It could have been hours, or it could have been seconds. Either way, it made no difference. Left bereft and disconnected from her own smooth flesh for a moment, a tear fell when she touched her skin, expecting it to be covered by feathers instead.

The glow coming from her other half was so bright, Ataria couldn't tell what she looked like at first. A stark white phoenix, she noted a moment later, once she was composed enough to look at her phoenix again without being pulled away from her flesh vessel.

But no, while she seemed completely white at first glance, the white down her chest morphed into reds, oranges and yellows down to her tail. Five feathers of the same gradient of sunset colors crowned the white head. No, the colors of a scorching flame. The bright warm hues spotted the white wings, hiding amongst the white feathers.

The ekrye-bond settled in her chest. A piece she didn't even know was missing now sat in there, warm and comforting. All the less a child now, Ataria held out her arm.

Her brilliant half swooped down in a majestic movement, and perched on her forearm, a fulfilling weight despite being heavy and bigger than her own head. There was no hesitance in her caresses. The softness of her chest feathers and roughness of her crown feathers awed Ataria, entranced by the being she knew would stay by her side for the rest of her life, however short or long.

A shuddery sigh of relief followed, a delighted smile stretching across her face as the phoenix nuzzled her forehead. She could hardly believe it, couldn't bring herself to mind as the feet gripped her forearm tightly. Ataria understood now why no one was ever apart from their phoenix; why Anathar and Rohat's nest was directly above her parents', why Orwe's own phoenix, Manwe, was never too far from him.

The phoenix melody had now quietened into a happier passage of their song, and their glows diminished, leaving her to realize that while they had been standing there, entranced with one another, the sky was darkening.

Ataria pursed her lips a bit, unsettled by the sudden change. She hadn't realized just how much of the light she was perceiving was actually coming from the phoenixes themselves and not the sun.

Her phoenix nudged her and tilted her head, looking behind them. It took Ataria a moment to realize she was trying to tell her which way to go.

She? Ataria stood baffled for a second. Admittedly, it felt weird to know instinctively the gender of a magical bird. But she decided it was just among the list of things that were natural for her to know.

Like her phoenix's name. Sometimes it took hours, others, days for a person to know what their phoenix's name was. The longest time recorded was two months.

Ataria couldn't name her now, even if she tried. Even though it felt as if the word was on the tip of her tongue, about to be spoken in the wind. But she had not the faintest clue what her name was.

After a more insistent nudge bordering on annoyed, Ataria quickly followed her phoenix's instructions. Trusting her phoenix to not guide her into a hole or off a cliff, she walked back the way she came. She wasn't sure if they were following the same path they came from, but as they left the clearing together, the moon rose above them and the trees blocked out whatever light was left. It was a good thing that it was her phoenix guiding her, not the moonlight.

Ataria cradled her phoenix in her arms as well as she could, despite her size. Phoenixes were naturally scalding to the touch, even for Eagle-People if they were not their bonded. But if she had needed anymore reassurance, the subtle warmth the white phoenix exuded was all the confirmation that this phoenix really was hers.

Her other half glowed brightly, lighting the trees and ground ahead so she wouldn't trip or step on something unsavory. The bird was unbothered by the glow, seeming to do it as casually as the sun shines every morning, without bothering to ponder on it.

Ataria found it all quite fascinating and breathtaking; holding such a majestic creature in her arms, aware that the talons could scratch or tear at skin if wanted to. Yet knowing that beak and those talons would never harm her, for they were as much a part of herself as they were a weapon for their protection.

She wondered again why she shouldn't open her wings, since it'd be easier to leave the forest by air than on foot, but quickly pinched herself to chase away the thought. She'd continue to walk even if her legs ached and her feet blistered because if her phoenix had waited for her for who knows how long and endured on her own both winter and spring, she could very well walk with her in her arms.

Perhaps she was wrong, but she thought the trek back didn't take nearly as long as it did the other way around. Time seemed to bounce back to its normal length the further away from the center they got. However, it might have been because she was just too happy to notice, and the delighted, proud smile still hadn't left her face. Either way, the strange flora and the scalding hot feather piles were soon left behind, and the only traces of magic present came from her phoenix.

Before long, the marker stone Ataria had seen hours before was in front of them and the Covert territory behind them.

The impulse to look back grasped her, and her steps halted. There was no more glow coming from inside the phoenix's forest area, no tale-telling sign of their presence, but she knew the phoenixes were still there, observing. So she lowered her head and bowed low, in reverence and gratitude, and whispered a small prayer to the Fire Mother Athalene.

When she walked away, she did so with a full and warmed heart.

No longer an eaglet, Ataria stretched out her neck to look for her arthal, hoping that they'd waited for her, because if she was the last to arrive at the ceremony, that'd be really embarrassing. She didn't want her family to think she was incompetent!

She listened attentively for any sign of them, and swallowed smoke in a breath. She scowled. Did they light the fires without me?

She walked faster, almost not perceiving the moment her phoenix tensed in her arms, the glow dying immediately. The white bird raised its head forward and stared straight ahead.

Ataria couldn't see a reason to worry, and that was unsettling.

The young girl tightened her hold on her phoenix momentarily, seeking the warm comfort. She couldn't ignore the tightness in her chest and mind; phoenixes were sensitive creatures. Something was wrong.

The bird flew out of her arms suddenly and Ataria had no moment to think before she was being left behind. She could only follow clumsily on foot, chasing her.

She understood why she had flown away.

Smoke thickened the air, and it was not from the ceremonial fires. It was not cheering or merry music she heard, but screaming. They reached the edge of the forest quickly and she nearly screamed at the sight, stifling the sound.

The wooden buildings burned under the night sky, swallowing the stars with their smoke and ash. Across the flames and falling rubble, people fought and ran, screaming. Figures chased each other and swung swords and axes at one another. Spears raised and thrust through flesh.

Some bodies on the ground were disturbingly small.

Some had no wings at all.

Hope you liked this one! Please don't forget to vote and comment, it helps so much! Thank you <3 for reading!

Now the story is about to kick off for reals. Warning for the next chapter:
Might be a bit heavy for some. Will probably make at least one person cry, so tissues ready.

When a threat comes knocking, there's little you can do.