I didn’t feel like I’d died, but I guessed I must’ve if Aster was right about how I’d been acting. Shade had taught me a lot about the regenerative abilities of phoenixes, but of course I’d never expected to experience them. Even after realizing he was real, I hadn’t stopped for a second to think about what would happen if I died. 

Technically speaking, I hadn’t really died, per say, but I’d undoubtedly come to the very brink of death. At least, I must’ve if I’d gone through the revival cycle. But it was hard to believe that I’d been able to revive here. 

Like all phoenixes, I had two stores of magic—the free-flowing store in my second heart that I could use whenever, and the still source in my feathers, claws, scales, and skin. That still source was something I could never willingly use, but my autonomic systems could use it to push me past my limits or even revive me from the brink of death in emergency situations. 

Judging by the feeling in my legs, I’d unwittingly used quite a lot of the magic in my leg scales to keep running in the face of danger, meaning there hadn’t been enough left to completely renew my legs when I revived. 

But again, I wasn’t entirely sure that I had revived. It didn’t make sense that Aster would know enough to see me die, dig through my ashes for my egg, and incubate my egg in the middle of a blazing fire for a whole day. Even if he thought to check my ashes and incubate my egg, there’s no way he would think to place me in the middle of a fire unless he was planning to cook and eat me, which I highly doubted he would do—unless he was on the brink of starving to death, I supposed. 

“So, uh, what exactly happened after we fell in the river?”

Aster was still determinedly covering my legs in paste, and he didn’t look up at my question. I could’ve sworn I saw him wince. 

“One of the bear-people used a magic staff to fish us out of the water. We were all beat up, but you looked the worst—like that racehorse last summer.”

I remembered the day that horse came in like it was yesterday. How could I forget his sides lathered with sweat or the wild, desperate look in his eyes? Even more memorable was the sound of my usually calm father ripping into the jockey who’d ridden the horse so hard during weeks of practice. None of us were sure the horse would make it through the night, and with the damage likely done to his heart after so much exertion, Dad had to retire him from racing.

It was hard to believe I’d succumbed to the same fate after a single night of running overburdened, but I supposed it made sense. With the cold leaching my strength and my muscles unaccustomed to carrying any burden at all, one night had pushed me far beyond my typical limits. 

As Aster finished with my right leg, I tucked it beneath me so he could continue with my left. A question still nagged at me. “After I… passed, how’d you know to put my egg in the fire?”

“I didn’t.” Shaking his head, he massaged his bandaged knuckles. “You didn’t just ‘pass’ away, either. The guy with the staff stabbed you and took your egg. I tried to get you back, but I didn’t know it was really. I just thought that you were like those lizards that make clones of themselves.”

My stomach twisted as I imagined how hard that must’ve been for him. He’d thought I was truly dead, that the only part of me remaining was a genetically identical infant—but he still took care of me. For all he knew, I was never coming back. After being dragged all the way to Mystica, he hadn’t owed me anything, especially not childcare of a rambunctious and amnesiac dragonling. I wouldn’t have blamed him at all if he’d abandoned me as a hatchling.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you before about the whole reviving thing; I just didn’t think about it.” I sighed, focusing on my now-yellow feet to avoid Aster’s pained gaze. “I’m a phoenix dragon, by the way. The legends of the phoenix on Earth are based of stories when phoenix dragons visited Earth way back when. We’re not immortal, but as long as we’re young and healthy, no injury can permanently kill us. Well, not unless we freeze in the egg or get crushed or something before we can hatch.”

He flinched, his lips pressing into a thin line. 

“What is it?”

“While you were in the egg, I… I was mad. I didn’t want him—the one with the staff—to have your egg, so I snuck into the incubation tent and tried to steal you. I knew I couldn’t keep you warm on my own. He caught me, we got into a fight, and your egg got cracked.” His eyes drifted to my legs as he took a shuddering breath. “If he hadn’t stopped me, you’d be dead now, and you’re still crippled because of me.”

I shook my head. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll heal sooner or later, and there’s no way you could’ve known I was in the egg.” I leaned close to nuzzle his shoulder.

He ran a shaking hand through my feathered head crest, his heart racing in my ear. “I should’ve known. Everything about you dying and coming back as an egg screamed ‘phoenix.’”

Before I could reassure him any more, the tent flap rustled. The white-furred woman had returned with a man from the same species. He had grayish fur except for his wispy white beard. A head taller than the woman, he sported a pair of thick ram’s horns that gave him even more height. Even so, it looked like the top of his horns only would’ve reached Aster’s shoulder. 

Aster stiffened, his jaw set like he was trying not to snap at the newcomer. “That’s the guy who stabbed you.”

The newcomer smiled, showing massive overlapping incisors that reminded me of a bear’s. “My attendant says you’ve finally regained consciousness,” he said in perfect Bontair. “I am Chief Garoth. Now, far be it from me to discipline the attendants of a goddess, but I must suggest that you rid yourself of this one. When you were at your weakest, he attempted to end your life permanently.”

I scoffed. “It was just a misunderstanding. He is a loyal friend, just… uneducated in the ways of phoenix magic.” I shuffled my wings, glad Aster couldn’t understand Bontair. “Where he comes from, no one puts an egg in a fire unless they wish to cook it.”

He howled, clapping all four hands together in obvious delight. “What fool would cook a phoenix egg? Your feathers alone would be worth a fortune in the capital.”

I frowned at the insinuation that he might do the same thing I’d assumed the glacial dragon would. Until I had proof, however, I wasn’t about to insult our hosts. “Yes, well, he may not know much about magic, but he’s no fool. I’d prefer you not insult him.”

“Forgive me, goddess,” he said in an almost sarcastic tone. He raised both sets of hands over his head for a moment before dropping them to his sides. “But I was under the impression that you attendants didn’t understand Bontair.” 

“They don’t. Does yours?”

He clapped his lower hands together. “No, I’m afraid I’m the only person in this village who bothered to study in the capital. A few know some Tenan, but the majority do not.”

“I figured as much.” At least one of them spoke a language I fully understood. I wanted to strangle Shade for acting like Bontair was the end-all and be-all of Mystican languages. It seemed like I would have to rely on translators if I wanted to talk to anyone except a select few. “Chief Garoth, is it? My attendant tells me you’re to thank for saving us from the river—and from the glacial dragon, I hope?”

He flicked his ears back at the mention of the glacial dragon. “You needn’t worry. In the days of old, we held our ground against Frozen Tooth with a dozen staff-wielders, and now I manage it alone with a single working staff. Though retrieving you from the river drained its stores of magic, it will recover fully in less than a week.”

That would explain why he’d saved me, then. Unmoving magic filled every one of my feathers, which I could replenish frequently just by eating and resting in warm places. He could easily pluck my feathers and grind them into a dust to rejuvenate his staff—and possibly the other broken staffs as well, meaning he wouldn’t have to worry about Frozen Tooth anymore.