Re:Birth: A Slow Burn LitRPG Mage Regressor

The boat sliced through the cold waters of the Vermillion Sea, leaving a foamy trail in its wake. Arkhos rose before them, its floating buildings gleaming in the morning sun, the famous stepped districts climbing the hillside like a wedding cake made of marble and sunlight.

Adom stood at the helm, one hand resting lightly on the polished wood, watching the city grow larger with each passing minute. The familiar skyline, dominated by the Academy's seven spires, stirred something warm in his chest. After weeks in the frozen mountains, even the brisk sea air felt welcoming.

"So," Captain Lowe said for perhaps the fifth time since they'd set sail at dawn, "nothing happened? Nothing at all?"

Adom glanced at the young naval officer, whose eyes kept darting toward the cargo hold where fifteen bound Ravensguard soldiers, three sedated dire wolves, and one particularly battered Northking were secured.

"Were you expecting something?" Adom asked. "A daring escape attempt, perhaps? Maybe a sea monster attack to complete the adventure?"

Lowe flushed slightly. "Well, no, but... it's the Northking. Mervyn Ravencroft. The Butcher of Redbrook. And you've got him trussed up in my hold like a festival pig."

"Your point?"

"It just seems too... easy."

Adom raised an eyebrow. "I can assure you, Captain, it wasn't easy."

"No, of course not," Lowe said quickly. "I didn't mean—"

"I know what you meant." Adom's tone softened. "The binding artifacts are nearly foolproof. Even if he could break free, where would he go? We're in the middle of the sea."

Lowe nodded, seeming slightly reassured. He adjusted their course by a few degrees, hands confident on the wheel despite his youth. "I still can't believe it. First mission as war mages, and you and your team bag the Northking himself. They'll be talking about this for decades."

"That was the plan."

"You planned to capture the Northking? Specifically?"

"Well, no. We planned to intercept a weapons test. The Northking was a bonus."

Lowe whistled low. "Some bonus. The diplomatic repercussions alone will be..." He trailed off, then added with unmistakable awe, "They'll promote you for this. All of you."

Adom shrugged. "That's for the Magisterium to decide."

"Come on. Don't pretend you're not excited to imagine the look on Emperor Uther's face when he learns his favorite nephew is in Arkhos custody."

A smile tugged at the corner of Adom's mouth. "It might be satisfying."

Lowe laughed, then stopped abruptly, realizing he was staring at Adom. Again. He'd been doing it on and off since they boarded.

"Is there something on my face, Captain?" Adom finally asked.

Lowe startled, then flushed darker. "No! Sorry. It's just... I was told you were, well..."

"Yes?"

"Smaller," Lowe blurted. "Skinnier. One of the senior officers mentioned a nickname. 'Shrimp,' I think?"

Adom chuckled. "Ah, that. Yes, old habits die hard."

"But you're..." Lowe gestured vaguely at Adom's frame, clearly embarrassed.

"Tall?"

"Very. And not exactly shrimp-like."

"Late growth spurt," Adom said. "I was one of the smallest in my cohort until about three years ago. The name stuck, even if the reality changed."

Lowe squinted up at him. "How tall are you anyway?"

"About 196 centimeters, last I checked."

"And you're what, twenty?"

"Nineteen."

Lowe shook his head in disbelief. "Nineteen and already taking down imperial commanders. Makes me wonder what I was doing at your age."

"Probably something useful, like not freezing your ass off in mountain passes."

"I'm twenty-five, and I stopped growing at twenty-one or so," Lowe offered. "You might still have a few more centimeters in you."

Adom laughed. "I hope so. I'd love to be taller than my father, just to lord it over him. He's 198."

"Is he also a war mage?"

"No. Military. Though these days he mostly trains others. Retirement and all."

Lowe looked like he wanted to ask more questions, but a shout from the crow's nest interrupted them.

"Harbor patrol approaching, Captain!"

A sleek vessel with blue-and-gold sails was cutting toward them from the harbor mouth. The flags flying from its mast indicated a formal reception party.

"Looks like word got out," Adom said.

Lowe straightened his uniform. "The Archmage's personal craft. This is... unprecedented."

"The Magisterium likes its ceremonies."

"Should I... I mean, is there a protocol for delivering an imperial commander to the Archmage?"

Adom clapped him on the shoulder. "Just aim the boat at the dock and try not to hit anything important. I'll handle the rest."

As they neared the harbor, with its forest of masts and bustling docks, Adom took a deep breath of the familiar salt-and-spice scent of Arkhos. Home. Despite everything waiting for him—interrogations, debriefings—he couldn't suppress a surge of satisfaction.

"You know," Lowe said, breaking into his thoughts, "most people would be terrified right now. Bringing in the Northking, facing the Archmage, all of it."

"Being terrified doesn't help anyone," Adom said simply. "Besides, we're just doing our job."

"Right," Lowe muttered. "Just a normal day at work, capturing the most feared commander in the Empire."

Adom smiled faintly. "No, Captain. A normal day would have been boring."

The Archmage's vessel grew larger as they approached—a peculiar blend of traditional shipbuilding and magical innovation. Unlike the sleek naval vessels or sturdy merchant ships that crowded Arkhos harbor, this craft defied conventional design.

Its hull curved like a crescent moon, the wood enchanted to shimmer with an opalescent gleam that changed color with the shifting waves. Two sweeping structures rose from either side, not quite sails but not quite wings either, pulsing with faint blue energy that seemed to propel the vessel without wind.

"There she is," Adom said, a hint of pride in his voice. "The Magebane."

The door to the lower deck swung open, and Sam emerged, squinting in the bright sunlight. He adjusted his glasses and let out a low whistle.

"Well, would you look at that," he said, leaning against the railing. "They sent the fancy toy."

Eren followed close behind, his usual scowl softening slightly at the sight of the approaching vessel. "Impressive. The stabilization enchantments must be incredibly complex."

"Thirty-seven interlocking rune circles," Adom replied. "Professor Kim and I spent three months on them last summer."

"Of course you did," Naia said, joining them on deck. "Is that why it doesn't pitch in the waves? I've never seen a boat sit so steady on water."

"That's part of it. The hull also has—"

"Please don't start explaining the technical details," Karion interrupted, ducking through the doorway. "Some of us just ate breakfast."

The rest of the team filed onto the deck. Damus remained silent, arms crossed over his broad chest, but even he couldn't quite hide his impressed expression.

As the Magebane drew alongside, its true scale became apparent. The vessel was easily three times the size of their own, yet it moved with grace, barely creating a ripple as it positioned itself perfectly parallel to their starboard side.

The front section of the ship began to transform. What had appeared to be a solid hull split down the middle, the two halves peeling back like the jaws of some massive sea creature. Within the opening, a sheltered dock became visible, large enough to accommodate their entire vessel.

"That's new," Adom noted, eyebrows raised. "They've been busy."

"Are we supposed to sail... inside it?" Captain Lowe asked, his voice slightly higher than normal.

"That appears to be the invitation," Adom replied.

Lowe swallowed audibly. "Right. Into the mouth of the beast it is."

With careful maneuvering, Lowe guided their ship into the Magebane's open maw. The sensation was distinctly unsettling—sailing directly into another vessel—but the precision of the design was immediately apparent. Their ship fit perfectly into the docking cradle, and the moment they were fully inside, the "jaws" began to close behind them.

The interior was illuminated by glowing orbs that hovered at regular intervals along the walls. The space was surprisingly airy despite being enclosed, with enchanted windows that somehow showed clear views of the harbor despite being inside the larger vessel's hull.

"The runes are different," Adom observed, studying the patterns etched into the walls. "They've modified the containment field."

"Is that good or bad?" Mikael asked nervously.

"Neither. Just interesting." Adom ran his fingers over a particularly complex sequence. "This is elegant work."

A platform at the far end of the interior dock began to descend, carrying a group of figures in the distinctive blue and silver robes of senior mages. Their descent was smooth, almost theatrical, the platform gliding down without so much as a sound.

"Showoffs," Karion muttered.

Five senior mages stepped onto the dock, their expressions formal but not unfriendly. At their center walked a man with salt-and-pepper hair and a neatly trimmed beard, his robes more elaborate than the others—Magister Everett, one of the personal assistants of the Archmage.

The Magister and his entourage approached with respectful nods. While Adom's age made the formalities sometimes awkward, his rank as Magus—the highest position before Archmage itself—commanded a certain deference. Still, Everett had known him since he was a gangly fourth-year student, which made things less stiff than they might otherwise be.

"Magus Sylla," Everett said, extending his hand. "Quite the catch you made today."

Adom clasped it firmly. "Thank you, Magister. It was a team effort."

"Of course it was." Everett turned to acknowledge the rest of the group with a warm smile. "Outstanding work, all of you. Third mission and already your most significant. The Tear secured and the Northking himself in custody. That's going to make waves across the continent."

Damus stepped forward, carefully removing the warded case from his back.

The Tear of Solon pulsed softly within its protective enchantments—one half of the paired crystals that would finally connect Sundar to the Kingdom of Seran. The other Tear had been sitting in Valdris for three years now, waiting.

Once both were active, the portal between the two nations would open, allowing instant transport of troops, supplies, and messages across distances that normally took weeks to traverse. For a war that was bleeding Sundar's resources dry, that kind of connection to an ally with mountain-trained soldiers and strategic positioning along Farmus's northern border was everything.

"Delivered as promised, Magister," Damus said.

Everett accepted the case with visible relief. "Excellent. The ritual chamber is prepared. We'll have the connection established within the week."

"The emperor will be pleased," one of the senior mages said—a woman with striking white hair. "He's been asking about it monthly."

"More like weekly, Magister Thorne," Everett replied with a slight smile. Then his expression grew more serious as he looked back at the team. "Though I understand your journey back wasn't entirely uneventful. A village under attack? Ravensguard in Imperial territory?"

"We spotted smoke while passing through the northern route," Adom said. "Couldn't exactly ignore it."

"No, I suppose not." Everett's gaze was knowing. "And fortunate you didn't. If the Farmusians had discovered our team in that region while you were securing the Tear..." He didn't finish the thought. He didn't need to.

The senior mages spread out among the team then, each gravitating toward their former students or specialists in their particular fields. Professor Lydia immediately engaged Emma in a detailed discussion of healing techniques for battlefield trauma. Master Wei cornered Eren to ask about his latest adaptation of fire runes.

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Amid the congratulations and reunions, a hush suddenly fell over the gathering. All eyes turned toward the platform, which was descending once more.

This time, it carried only a single figure.

Tall and imposing, Archmage Gaius stepped onto the platform's edge.

Even Magister Everett straightened slightly as the Archmage's presence filled the space.

"Well," Gaius said, his voice carrying effortlessly across the dock. "Hello there."

The moment Archmage Gaius stepped onto their deck, the entire team's demeanor shifted. Smiles broke out across every face but Eren's transformation was the most dramatic.

His perpetual scowl vanished entirely, replaced by an expression of pure joy that made him look five years younger. Without hesitation, he broke away from the group and practically bounded toward the Archmage.

"Master!"

Gaius caught him in a warm embrace, ruffling Eren's dark hair with affection. "There's my boy. Look at you—still scowling at everyone else, are you?"

"I don't scowl," Eren protested, though his grin undermined the denial completely.

"Of course you don't." Gaius held him at arm's length, studying his face, checking for injuries. "How was the expedition? No frostbite? All your fingers still attached?"

"All present and accounted for, Master."

Gaius nodded approvingly, then turned his attention to Adom. "And you, young Adom—I trust my disciple wasn't too much trouble? I know he can be... particular about how things should be done."

Adom considered this with theatrical seriousness. "Well, he sulked quite a bit. Frowned at everything from the weather to the quality of our rations. But that was about it, really. Very efficient otherwise."

"Ah, excellent. Just a phase, I'm sure."

"It's not a phase," Eren said flatly.

Adom tilted his head thoughtfully. "You know what, Eren? For once, I might actually agree with you on something. I think we're all going to have to get used to Frowning Eren from now on."

The entire group burst into laughter, even the senior mages joining in. Eren's cheeks reddened slightly, but he was still smiling.

In truth, Adom had spent the better part of five years assuming Eren's increasingly serious demeanor was just teenage hormones working themselves out. Most of their cohort had gone through various phases—Karion's brief obsession with dramatic hair accessories, Sam's unfortunate attempt at growing a mustache, Naia's month-long commitment to speaking only in questions.

But Eren's transformation had been different. More fundamental.

Over the past few years, he'd developed a gravity that went far beyond typical adolescent angst. He carried himself with the kind of dignity that most people didn't manage until their thirties, spoke with precision, and seemed perpetually concerned about representing his Master's teachings properly.

"I don't want to sully the Archmage's reputation as his disciple," he'd explained once, when Adom had teased him about refusing to participate in a food fight in the Academy mess hall.

That had been enlightening. And slightly heartbreaking.

Oh, and he wanted to become Archmage as well.

Which probably explained why he viewed Adom as competition these days. They were practically the same age—Eren was exactly four months older, a fact he used to lord over Adom whenever possible—but Adom had already gotten his candidature approved. One of only ten candidates currently in consideration, and by far the youngest of the group.

That had to sting a little.

Still, Adom couldn't help but see him as a little brother. The kind who practiced sword forms until his hands bled because he wanted to make everyone proud, then got sulky when people suggested he take a break.

"Adom," Gaius said, his tone shifting to something more businesslike. "A word? I'd like your report on the mission."

"Of course, sir."

Gaius gestured toward a section of the deck that had been cleared of the bustling activity. "Privately, if you don't mind. The others can catch up with their old professors."

As they walked away from the group, Adom caught Eren watching them with an expression that was equal parts curiosity and carefully controlled envy. Poor kid. Always wondering what conversations were happening without him, always worried he was missing something important.

"Don't look so worried," Adom called back to him. "I'm not going to tell him about the incident with the wolves."

Eren's eyes widened in horror. "What incident with the wolves?"

"Exactly."

Gaius led Adom to a quiet corner of the deck, away from the animated conversations. The Archmage leaned against the railing, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp.

"You did excellent work on this mission," he said without preamble. "Capturing the Northking will certainly be taken into account for your nomination."

"Thank you, sir."

"Hmm. Young Adom," Gaius studied Adom's face for a while. "I've known you for what, six years now? And I've learned to recognize a particular expression you make when something's bothering you. Even when you try to hide it."

Adom shifted slightly, surprised by the observation.

"So," Gaius continued, "what is the matter?"

Adom glanced around to ensure they couldn't be overheard, then met the Archmage's gaze directly. "Dragon's Breath, sir. They've resumed development."

The casual atmosphere between them evaporated instantly. Gaius's expression hardened. "How close?"

"Based on what I saw during the mission?" Adom paused, running calculations in his head. "Maybe a couple of years before they figure it all out. Before they create the weapon."

Gaius was quiet for a long moment, his fingers drumming against the railing in a rhythm that suggested intense thought. The sound was barely audible over the gentle lapping of waves against the hull.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Another silence stretched between them.

"What do you think we should do?"

Adom took a deep breath. "I hate long stories, sir, but..." He paused, organizing his thoughts. "Dragon's Breath's creation is what started everything. The destruction. The arms race as every other nation scrambled to make their own version. It left the world vulnerable when the World Dungeon appeared, and no one could defend against it."

Gaius nodded slowly, encouraging him to continue.

"Professor Kim and I have a theory about that, actually." Said Adom. "The magical corruption Dragon's Breath leaves behind—the corrupted and unstable ambient mana it creates—we ran a small test over four years. Created ambient mana corruption similar to what a Dragon's Breath explosion would produce near low ranked dungeon gates."

"And?"

"The dungeon's opening got weaker. More prone to breaks." Adom's expression grew grim. "We think that's what caused the chain reaction of dungeon breaks in my original timeline. Which led directly to the World Dungeon."

Adom's jaw tightened. "So if anything, we need to be radical about Dragon's Breath. Stop it no matter what."

Gaius's eyebrows rose slightly. "You want to attack Farmus directly?"

"Yes."

Gaius was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the approaching skyline of Arkhos.

The city was peaceful and beautiful and utterly unaware of the conversation taking place on the waters below.

"We should speak about this later," he said finally, as the sunlight caught in Adom's eyes, making him squint slightly. The harbor was much closer now, close enough to make out individual buildings and the tiny figures of people moving along the docks.

Adom nodded, understanding the dismissal for what it was. "Agreed, sir."

The docking process at Arkhos was surprisingly smooth, considering they were delivering the most wanted man in three kingdoms. Adom changed into civilian clothes—simple brown trousers and a cream-colored shirt that made him look like any other young man returning from a trip—while the rest of the team did the same.

They gathered on the dock afterward, the salt air mixing with the familiar scents of the city: spiced bread, roasted nuts, and that particular blend of ocean and magic that seemed to permeate everything in Arkhos.

"Meat pies?" Sam suggested, adjusting his civilian jacket. "I've been dreaming about this for weeks."

"Only if we get frosties after," Naia added, her tail swishing with anticipation. "It's too hot for anything else."

And it was hot.

Summer in Arkhos was a different beast entirely from the frozen mountains they'd just left. The sun beat down on the white stone buildings, and even the sea breeze felt warm against their skin.

They made their way through the bustling harbor district, past vendors hawking everything from fresh fish to enchanted trinkets. The familiar chaos of the city was oddly comforting after weeks of silence and snow.

"One week before the new academic year," Gus mused as they walked. "Feels strange, doesn't it?"

"Not really our concern anymore," Damus pointed out. "We've graduated."

"Most of us have," Eren corrected quietly.

Right. Eren was still technically a student—a nineteen-year-old sixth year, the single most powerful student in his year level. He'd joined the Academy as a first year when the rest of them were already in their third, which had always made their group dynamic interesting.

As for Adom, well, he still had business at the Academy. But that could wait.

They found Old Mary's cart exactly where it had always been, wedged between a bookbinder's shop and a store selling Tirajin silk. The elderly woman was directing a small army of assistants with the kind of authority that came from decades of perfecting her craft. She was very old now, her hair completely silver and her hands shakier than they used to be, but she still insisted on making the pies herself.

"Well, well," she called out when she spotted them. "Look what the tide washed back to shore. My favorite troublemakers, all grown up and playing soldier."

"We're battle mages now, Mary," Sam protested with a grin.

"Battle mages, soldiers, still the same scraggly bunch who used to beg for extra filling." She looked them over critically. "You're all too thin. Especially you, Adom. What have they been feeding you, tree bark?"

"Something like that," Adom replied.

Mary's eyes swept the group, clearly looking for someone. "Where's Cyrel today? Usually can't keep that girl away when you lot come around."

The entire group turned to look at Adom with identical smirks. He felt annoyed at this.

"She's not working today?" he asked, pointedly ignoring his friends' expressions.

"Day off. She's helping Biggins with something or other." Mary's tone was carefully neutral, but her eyes were definitely amused.

"I'll visit her at Mr. Biggins' later," Adom said, which only made his friends' grins wider.

"Of course you will, dear," Mary said sweetly. "Now, the usual for everyone?"

They ordered enough meat pies to feed a small army, then wandered to the frosty stand three streets over. The cold, flavored ice was a blessed relief against the summer heat.

Eventually, they parted ways. Sam headed toward the residential district where he and his sister lived. Naia mentioned something about visiting her the tirajin consulate. Eren, predictably, was going straight to the Academy to catch up on whatever assignments he'd missed. Mia, Gus, and Damus went in the same direction.

Adom stopped by the takeout place his family loved—a small shop run by a cheerful halfling couple who made the best dumplings in the city—and ordered enough food for dinner. His family had moved to Arkhos from Kati three years ago, and this place had quickly become a household favorite.

The walk home took him through the heart of the city, and he couldn't help but notice how much the architecture had changed. Where once Arkhos had been distinctly Sundarian in design, now it was a beautiful blend of cultures. Elven spires twisted skyward beside Dwarven stonework. Tirajin gardens cascaded down the sides of buildings, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the traditional white marble.

Sundar had been building ties with other nations over the years, and it showed.

"Adom! Adom, is that you?"

He turned to find Mrs. Henley, the woman who ran the flower stand on Merchant's Row, hurrying toward him with a bouquet of summer blooms.

"For your mother," she said, pressing them into his hands before he could protest. "Welcome home, dear."

"Mrs. Henley, I can't—let me pay for these."

"Nonsense. You've been away defending the realm. Least I can do is welcome you back properly."

This pattern repeated itself every few blocks. The baker insisted on giving him a loaf of fresh bread. The cheese vendor practically forced a wheel of aged cheddar into his arms. By the time he'd walked six blocks, he was carrying enough food and gifts to stock a small market.

He tried ducking down side streets to avoid the attention, but somehow people still found him. Word traveled fast in Arkhos, especially when it came to local heroes returning home.

He could have used a spell to get home without being seen—would have saved him the embarrassment of being treated like a returning conquerer—but after weeks in the cold, brutal mountains, he was determined to take full advantage of everything the city had to offer. The warmth, the noise, the overwhelming friendliness of people who knew his name.

Finally, laden with enough provisions to feed a small celebration, he turned onto his street. The familiar row of houses, each painted a different pastel color, stretched ahead of him. His family's house was the pale blue one, third from the corner, with his mother's herb garden spilling over the front fence.

He stood there for a moment, just looking at it. Home. After everything—the mission, the cold, the weight of knowledge about what was coming—this small blue house with its cheerful yellow door felt like the most important place in the world.

The front window was open, and he could hear voices inside. His parents, probably his sister too.

Adom climbed the three steps to the front door, levitating the various packages and gifts he'd accumulated during his walk home. Before he could even reach for his key or prepare a simple unlocking spell, the runes carved into the door's frame began to glow a soft blue.

They pulsed once, twice, then settled into a steady light as they recognized his mana signature. The door swung open with a quiet click.

He stepped inside, immediately grateful for the cool air that greeted him. The house looked deceptively small from the street—just another narrow townhouse in a row of similar buildings—but spatial magic was a wonderful thing. The interior opened up into a proper family home, with high ceilings, wide hallways, and rooms that would have been impossible to fit in the structure's apparent footprint.

"Hello?" he called out, setting his packages down on the entry table. "Anyone home?"

Silence.

He frowned, listening carefully.

Then, just as he was about to call out again, he heard footsteps—quick, light ones, followed by even lighter padding. He closed his eyes and extended his druidic senses, letting the sounds of the house come into sharper focus.

—Ada, I insist you reconsider this course of action, came a familiar voice. While I admire your innovative spirit, I fear the consequences of your current endeavor will be most disagreeable for all parties involved.

Adom grinned. Zuni.

Ada, please, listen to reason—

A blur of motion shot past the entrance hall—a small girl with dark hair streaming behind her, followed by what looked like a blue ball of fur with entirely too many quills. Ada caught sight of Adom as she passed and barely slowed down.

"Good morning, brother!"

Then she was gone, disappearing around the corner toward the kitchen.

Adom's smile broadened. He dropped his packages and moved quickly, intercepting his baby sister before she could reach whatever mischief she had planned. In one smooth motion, he scooped her up, spinning her around and planting a series of exaggerated kisses on her cheek.

"Come over here!"

"UNHAND ME!" Ada shrieked, though she was giggling even as she protested. "UNHAND ME THIS INSTANT!"

Her theatrical outrage was loud enough to carry through the entire house, and within moments, footsteps could be heard coming from the direction of the kitchen—much more measured footsteps this time.

Zuni, meanwhile, had skidded to a halt beside them, his small chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

Adom, he said finally. Your timing is, as always, impeccable. I was attempting to dissuade young Ada from what I believe she termed 'the greatest prank in the history of the world.'

"Was not!" Ada protested from her position in Adom's arms. "It was going to be the greatest prank in the history of the universe!"

Ah, Zuni said seriously. My apologies for understating the scope of your ambitions.

Adom looked between his bond and his sister.

"Should I be worried?" he asked.

Possibly, Zuni replied.

"Definitely not," Ada said at exactly the same time.

"UNHAND ME!" The little girl continued her theatrical protests. "UNHAND ME THIS—"

"What on earth is all this noise about?"

Maria emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel, her expression caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement. The moment she saw Adom, though, her face lit up completely.

"There's my boy," she said, immediately moving toward him. She had to reach up now to plant kisses on his forehead and both cheeks. "Look at you. You're too tall now, I can barely reach you properly."

"Hi, Mom." Adom grinned, still holding Ada, who had temporarily ceased her escape attempts to watch the reunion.

"How did that first mission go?" Maria asked, stepping back to look him over with the critical eye that only mothers possessed, checking for injuries or signs of hardship.

"Pretty well."

"Well, for a second circle mage, I wasn't really worried."

"I'm not second circle yet, Mom."

"SHE WAS WORRIED!" Ada announced loudly from her perch in Adom's arms. "She looked out the window every morning and every evening and asked when you were coming home and father had to take us to the harbor in the afternoons to wait for your boat to come back!"

Both Adom and Maria burst into laughter.

"Ada," she said in a warning tone, though she was still smiling.

"It's true!" Ada insisted. "You made me count the days on the calendar!"

"Where's father anyway?" Adom asked, still chuckling.

"Arthur went to hunt in one of the smaller dungeons to decompress," Maria replied. "You know how he gets when he's been cooped up too long. He should be back soon, normally he doesn't stay out past—"

The house trembled.

It was subtle—just a slight vibration that made the dishes in the kitchen rattle quietly. They all looked at each other, a moment of silence stretching between them.

Arkhos was on an archipelago, weak earthquakes were not that uncommon. As such, Adom was about to change the subject when it happened again.

Longer this time, more insistent. The floorboards creaked, and somewhere upstairs, a door swung gently on its hinges.

That, Zuni said, is most definitely not natural. I can feel it in my quills.

Adom closed his eyes, extending his senses. Whatever was causing the trembling, it was coming from above. From his room, specifically.

"Ada, go to mother," he said quietly, transferring his sister to Maria's arms.

"What's wrong?" Maria asked.

"I'm not sure. Stay down here, okay?"

Adom moved toward the stairs, Zuni bounding after him with surprising speed. The trembling was getting stronger now.

Adom, Zuni said as they climbed, I feel compelled to mention that whatever is happening up there, it's getting considerably warmer.

He was right. By the time they reached the second floor landing, the temperature had risen noticeably. And there was a smell in the air—not quite smoke, but something burning.

"Stay out here, Mother," Adom called down as he approached his bedroom door.

He put his hand on the handle and immediately jerked it back. The metal was hot enough to burn.

The trembling was constant now, and through the gap under his door, he could see a blue glow flickering against the floor.

Fire. There was fire in his room.

Adom took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Heat washed over him like a physical force. His room was filled with warm, dancing light, and in the center of it all—

The phoenix egg.