NOVEL NEXT Chapter 122: old
Zephyr flipped the crest into the flame. "Soon the cuffs will clasp his wrists."
Fenna stared at the coals. "What if he drags my clan / family into it? There are laws—"
"Your clan can watch him fall. That's all."
A pause; the crackle filled anxious space.
"Will you keep one secret?" Fenna asked, voice thin.
Zephyr lifted brows. "Thought we were done with secrets."
"Just a fear." She studied his face. "If he injured you in the ring… and what if he owns me by marriage contract?"
Zephyr's chest constricted. "He won't." He cupped her cheek with calloused palm. "Star, Aurora, Luke, Mira, Muse—we are a legion. And I have this." He tapped his temple where the invisible system halo lived. "Mystery or not, it won't let me break."
Emotion welled in Fenna's eyes. She pressed lips to his, it was fierce, claiming. Luke's flute fell silent; Mira looked away with a shy smile.
When they parted, Fenna whispered, "Then no fear."
Luke approached, handing Zephyr a small vial. "Liquid courage? Actually, flame wing tonic slashed with ember-bark. It boosts stamina. Courtesy of Mira."
Zephyr accepted. "To victory." He passed the vial clockwise; four hands clinked, drank.
The gate sentries called third night bell; pyre-torches along the basalt wall flickered low. Most of the caravan quarter slumbered, yet Zephyr remained awake— kneeling by a pocket camp fire, turning half-melted iron crest fragments in the glow. Fenna slept wrapped in wool beside Aurora, whose ember-flecked plumage now smoldered a gentle rose-gold. Star kept vigil at the clearing edge, breath sending faint sparks into moon-paled air. Muse snored behind the cart, doubled salt block clutched possessively between fore-hooves.
After the evening's "liquid courage" toast, Luke and Mira had insisted on final perimeter duty, giving the couple a few hours of quiet. Zephyr's eyelids drooped at last; he banked coals and slid beneath the lean-to canvas.
Fenna stirred when he curled around her. "Still thinking?"
"Ignore me," he whispered. "Tomorrow we roll through Ember-Gate. Next sunrise after that—arena."
Her hand found his. Even half-asleep, her grip carried promise: tomorrow we move together. He exhaled tension into her hair, and for a handful of heartbeats they breathed in perfect unison before surrendering to dark.
A scarlet wedge of dawn split the eastern sky. Aurora's reveille trill followed, higher and clearer than before—like glass wind-chimes slapped by sunrise. Zephyr bolted upright; Fenna flinched but smiled the second she registered the note.
Luke doused embers, Mira tied herb satchels, Star stretched both wings, joints popping like distant drumfire. Muse shook cinder dust from her coat, snorted theatrically, and stomped to the yoke with fresh resolve, her bell jangling in crisp morning air.
"Let's break road before gate traffic swells," Luke advised. "Tollers up-charge once merchants queue."
Zephyr nodded and adjusted the driving bench. Aurora fluttered overhead, trailing a bright feather arc; Fenna ran a hand down Star's neck ridge, checking last night salve. "No strain?"
The drake puffed warm breath, eyes steady. Ready.
A single knell from Ember-Gate tower echoed across the valley—first-dawn toll. Muse lurched forward, wheels rattling; Free-City beckoned beyond ridgelines painted copper by sunrise.
Even at the first bell, Ember-Gate thrummed. Ware-carts of charcoal bricks queued behind mercenary platoons; farmers coaxed fire-root pigs off barges; a troupe of traveling jugglers rehearsed flame tosses near the checkpoint.
Star's presence parted lines like a scythe tip; soldiers whispered, half awe, half alarm. Muse accepted gawks with queenly poise, though she mooed grievance when a stablehand tried patting her horns.
A copper-muster guard stepped forward, hand on baton. The guard skimmed details, one brow climbing when he reached Species: Hollowback (Unclassified) then flicked to Aurora perched on Fenna's shoulder. "And…that bright chicken?"
"Her companion," Fenna answered evenly. "Licensed under Small-Flame Exemption." The guard shrugged —paperwork straight— stamped passcards and waved them through with an impressed whistle.
Inside the gate arches, the world exploded in color: hanging banners of ember-crimson, shopfronts of jade-spattered glass, aroma of sweet fire-custard pastries. Zephyr guided the cart left, following Luke's elk through merchant bustle. Aurora oohed, scattering sparklets that children chased. Star's caution melted to curiosity; he sniffed spice racks, nearly inhaling pepper dust.
They halted outside a tea-garden terrace to share parting hugs. Luke clasped Zephyr's forearm. "Tomorrow we'll stand at arena Gate-Three with cheering lungs and healer kits. Survive, and we toast again."
Mira embraced Fenna warmly. "Knock him dead—then let me dissect his ego."
With final good-luck touches to Star's muzzle and Aurora's crown, the siblings steered elk and mare toward the merchants quarter, vowing supplies and seats reserved.
Fenna and Zephyr go to her uncle's house fronted by polished lava-glass windows: Dale & Daughter —Rare Colors Since 512 NE (New Era). They reached their temporary home.
A stout man swung the door—iron-gray hair half-untidy, spectacles perched on nose, spice mortar in hand. "If you're selling flash-bomb tincture, I'm fully—" His speech froze as recognition dawned. "Niece?"
Fenna launched forward, nearly toppling him in embrace. "Uncle Arlen Dale."
Arlen Dale Flintfeather hugged tight, then held her at arm's length. "Your training in Emberwood forest is done. Are you hurt… what happened?" His eyes darted: bandaged thigh, soot-stained armor, the dragon dwarfing his doorway. "…Fenna, that Hollowback… it's grown so much!"
Star huffed indignantly.
Zephyr stepped forward, bow sight. "Uncle Arlen Dale, it's a long story. Star is now stronger… he evolved."
Arlen Dale shook vigorously. "What type of evolution made it grow so much?" His gaze snapped to Aurora, who perched on Fenna's shoulder preening a feather. "And you finally accepted a beast bond? It kind of looks like an ember sappow, But that's no ember sparrow. What species is the bird? Where did you find it?"
Fenna inhaled. She told him everything— hatching in Emberwood, the chick's furnace rage, True-Fire resonance. Her mother's last wish. Arlen Dale pupils dilated behind lenses. "A living phoenix," he whispered. "Myth etched on the monument downtown— but many called it nonsense. Emberfall is named for a fallen phoenix in ages past. Now…truth."
He bowed slightly to Aurora. "Little flame, you honor our city."
Aurora trilled, fluffing luminous pinions.
Arlen Dale straightened. "But keep her secret. Guild naturalists would dissect first, catalogue later." He ushered them inside. "Rest, eat, bathe. Duel-eve demands clear minds."
Flintfeather's interior smelled of camphor, citrus peel, and old paper. Charts of plant phlogistics lined halls; cabinets brimmed with simmering infusions. Arlen Dale directed Muse to a shaded courtyard trough; the cow guzzled mint-water contentedly.
Star squeezed through side gates into the garden enclosure, lounging beside the pond that hissed under his heat. Aurora napped on a roof rail, sunbeams dancing over her orange feathers.
Inside, Arlen Dale served ember-pear soup and crisp ash-root bread. Conversation ebbed from rogue attacks to training milestones. The apothecary's eyes widened especially at Zephyr's spatial cache demonstration—he stored an entire hot kettle and produced it steaming moments later. Arlen Dale scholarly awe twinkled behind lenses but he said only: "Rarer than philosopher stone. Guard it against all."
Finally, Arlen Dale fixed Zephyr with direct stare. "Tomorrow you face Phoenix-Ring's prodigal heir. He'll try spectacle over sport. Crowd loves cruelty—ignore them. Fight the duel, not the theater."
Zephyr absorbed advice, nodding. Fenna sipped broth, gaze heavy but calm.
Arlen Dale clasped her hand. "Raise that bird with gentleness, niece. Legends say a phoenix returns loyalty a thousand-fold, but spurns greed with eternal flame."
"I'll keep her safe," Fenna promised.
They spent late afternoon in city lanes:
Arlen Dale escorted them to a private smith who re-sharpened Zephyr's blade with Emberjack fang dust.
Fenna purchased many clothes.
Zephyr acquired new arrowheads laced with quick-burst lime for crowd-pleasing but non-lethal sparks—fitting duel rules.
On returning, they found Muse attempting to intimidate Arlen Dale neighbor's goat; the goat remained unimpressed, nibbling Muse's dangling bell ribbon. Star applauded via low rumble; Aurora giggled chirps.
Evening bled scarlet across chimneys when Arlen Dale clapped hands. "Enough rushing. Supper, then sleep. Arena doors open at dawn-five. Your duel is at 8 am."
He ladled fire-stew laced with char-mint. Over bowls Zephyr described flanking ridgeline footwork; Fenna countered with arrow feint timing; Arlen Dale annotated with herbal stimulants for pre-match nerves. They agreed: Luke & Mira would supply med support at Gate-Three; Arlen Dale arranged seats near the dual platform.
After the meal Aurora demonstrated a new trick: a small ring-flash no bigger than three coins—safe after meltdown. Arlen Dale applauded. "Perfect for practicing your archer skill."
Moon silvered over Emberfall's slate roofs. Arlen Dale's household retired; even bustling taverns quieted two streets away. Star dozed in the courtyard, casting lava-orange glow over the pond; Muse snored under a pepper tree.
Zephyr lay on guestroom futon, Fenna tucked into crook of his arm, phoenix curled like ember brooch on her sternum. Lamplight painted their shadows across ceiling timbers.
Sleep eluded him at first. He played scenes of tomorrow: stadium roar; Ayan smirking; Fenna's arrow flying truer than sunrise; Star's flame reflecting in countless eyes. Then further, beyond the duel: a guild crest of their own, half-drake half-phoenix; a little farm by Ember-River; sparring kids with gold-fleck eyes, Muse retired in clover field, Luke & Mira coming to his victory banquet under dusk lanterns.