Verdant rivers of life rushed from the mountaintop beneath Sayara, flowing around her. The currents carried her mind deeper until she touched a faint presence—a spark fighting for its life.
The familiar clicking of wood on stone disrupted her focus. She searched for the presence again—but nothing. What was it doing inside the mountain?
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An electric pulse jerks my muscles awake. I gasp, filling my lungs with air. My heart pounds against my chest as it rushes me back to life.
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Behind me, the aviary had grown unnaturally quiet. Scores of black orbish eyes peeped between the bars of their spacious cages—all looking at me.
When Mystic Critters hired me, they’d warned me that phoenixes are sentient. They’d failed to add that they are shameless eavesdroppers and malicious gossips.
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