Either spontaneous fires were common around here, or the elven tenders of the Sylvan Guard were just unreasonably prepared for all eventualities, because hardly anyone batted an eye when the fire broke out, worrying more about the health of our little friend than any collateral damage.

  In just seconds, a Boonworthy—a water-specialized one—had arrived and doused the flames, allowing our tenders to check up on Galia, who’d been thoroughly doused, and was currently sneezing and coughing as a result.

  “She’s fine,” the elder elf woman announced, to my and Aerion’s immense relief. This must be what raising a child was like—I was more on edge than in any battle I’d ever been through. Considering my life recently, that said a lot.

  “That was a close one,” I said, addressing Galia. “What was that, anyhow? You should tell us before you breathe flames, you little dragon!”

  Galia squeaked up at me, presumably indignant at my scolding tone, but her cuteness worked against her, making the gesture nothing but adorable.

  And then, she suddenly burst into fire again.

  For better or worse, everything in the vicinity that could burn had already been burned, and so Galia’s flames remained contained to her body.

  But this wasn’t just some fire breath.

  Every part of her, from tip to toe, was bathed in fire. And Galia herself seemed completely oblivious.

  “This doesn’t hurt you?” I asked. As if in response, she strutting around, as if proud to show off her red flames.

  “I guess it doesn’t,” I muttered. “So, Greg. We’ve got a creature that sets itself on fire, and is completely alright with that. Almost as if that’s its natural state…Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

  The pieces suddenly clicked.

  “She’s a phoenix,” I said, not even believing my own words. “An honest-to-god phoenix!”

  Everyone turned and stared, like I’d just admitted I was the Archon or something.

  “That is impossible,” the male tender, whose name I’d learned was Narfael, said. “Phoenixes have been extinct for tens of millennia. In fact, it’s debatable whether they ever existed. Even the myths about them are few and far between, and none agree on their magic or even what they’re supposed to look like.”

  “Yeah, well,” I said, scratching my head, “this egg’s been around for a while, so that might actually fit. Maybe I’m wrong, though. Are there any other mythical beings that spontaneously combust?”

  Silence was my response.

  “Even if she is what you claim,” the male elf caretaker said slowly, “The other myths about phoenixes must be tales, yes? Overblown by the passage of time? The ability to be reborn from their own ashes? Tears that heal any wound? Even for mythical beasts, such powers are somewhat unbelievable.”

  “Easy enough to check,” I said. “Anyone got a feather?”

  Considering our present environment, feathers weren’t hard to come by, and I was soon holding had a magnificent white feather about a foot long. I hesitantly approached the maybe-phoenix, who cocked her head at me curiously.

  “Um, Galia, do you mind turning your flames off? Is that something you can control?”

  She chirped excitedly, but made no motion to douse her flames. I hadn’t really expected her to understand me, and I wasn’t even sure if she could control her flames yet.

  “Oh well,” I said, going for it, praying I didn’t get burned. I moved closer and rubbed the feather against her nose.

  It, of course, immediately caught on fire, which made the experiment a bit spicier than I thought. Because while her flames didn’t bother her, it seemed breathing in burning feather did.

  The phoenix immediately went into a violent sneezing and coughing frenzy, flooding me with pangs of guilt for doing that to our little friend. However, my action had the desired effect: tears began pouring from her eyes.

  Thinking quickly, I cut my finger and scooped up the tears in a small bowl. Then, acting fast, I brought my bleeding finger up to her face… which she promptly sucked on.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “As adorable as that is, you’re gonna have to let go, Galia,” I said, yanking my finger away. Galia, however, was doggedly intent on chasing it down to suck on again.

  At least my Vigor kept her flames from burning me, feeling pleasantly warm rather than scorching hot.

  A tear fell on the wound the instant before she got her tiny beak around my finger, and by the time I pulled it free, it’d healed entirely. There wasn’t a single trace of the injury. Not even a scar.

  About as effective as the Sanctuary’s miracle water, in other words. Enough to make me wonder if it was the same stuff. We’d have to run some tests with higher quantities on more severe wounds and we’d have to check how long we could keep her tears bottled, but if the tears were even half as potent, we’d just gained an unbelievable advantage. To say nothing of any other abilities she might have.

  “Impossible,” one of the elves whispered. The woman stared while the others looked on with a deep frown.

  “Well, I think that just about confirms it,” I said. “Ladies and gentle-elves, we’ve got ourselves a baby phoenix!”

  Likely the only one in all of Axius, at that.

  The elves’ reaction wasn’t what I had expected. Instead of offering congratulations or expressing their astonishment, they rushed around, erecting cloth barriers around Galia’s burnt cradle, hiding her from view.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, as Galia watched them curiously.

  “If she truly is a phoenix,” the tender said, “then this information cannot be allowed to spread. Do you have any idea what the other clans would do? At the very least, you’ll be hounded with propositions to buy her. At worst...”

  “Let them try,” Aerion said, her voice as cold as ice. “I’ll slaughter them all.”

  I was right there with her. The very thought of anyone trying to blackmail us or snatch Galia away filled my blood with cold rage.

  But if the situation got to that, we’d have already lost. And if people found out she was also a Champion? A Second Champion of Order?

  I couldn’t even imagine the level of absolute mayhem that would cause. Forget the other nations—how would the other gods react to that?

  “They’re more right than they know,” I said, looking at the other workers who’d been spectating. “We should probably move her to a private room. Cat’s probably already out of the bag, but I’ll ask Syrril and the Sylrithar to put a gag order on this. With luck, we might be able to contain any rumors, and maybe spread a few of our own to sow some confusion.”

  “How do we prevent this in the future, though?” Aerion asked. “Anyone who looks at her will know she’s something… special.”

  I took a look at our oblivious burning treasure. “We’ll have to hope she can learn how to douse them. She’d pass for an ordinary bird if she could.”

  “And how are we supposed to do that?”

  I looked at our tenders with hope. “Don’t suppose you have any idea how to train a phoenix?”

  Blank looks all around.

  “Figures. Guess we’ll have to figure this out together, then.”

  Needless to say, neither of us got much sleep that night, and that was with tenders worked around the clock to take care of our new little friend. We mostly just got to play with her—and as we quickly found out, the little phoenix had a seemingly boundless amount of energy, so long as she was fed with soul crystals.

  Both the Syrril and the Sylrithar had stopped by to express their heartfelt congratulations and admiring the little beast, and both had promised to take the appropriate measures to ensure her existence wasn’t broadcast to the world. The Sylrithar had also helped furnish the crystals we needed.

  While her voracious appetite had quieted down considerably, the rate at which she devoured the crystals was more than a little worrisome.

  Aerion and I had gone around to every market, scooping up every single crystal we could get our hands on under the guise of official Sylvan Guard business.

  When we cleared the tree out of Common Soul Crystals, we bought as many Uncommons as we could afford without bankrupting ourselves. Those would be Galia’s treats for behaving well and learning new tricks like hiding her fire.

  The haul wouldn’t last forever, but it was a start. We’d need to earn a lot more money—and soon—if we wanted any hope of keeping our little phoenix fed.

  I held off on feeding her the two [Rare] crystals I had in my inventory, though. Those felt a bit too valuable to feed to Galia, even though I guessed they’d likely have outsized effects.

  For one, I didn’t want to do anything without understanding her Champion’s Blessing—and how exactly it leveled. If it turned out that she gained whatever ability she consumed, feeding her a hodgepodge of different abilities would be a waste.

  If, however, she merely consumed the Crystals’ Essence, then we could afford to shove all sorts of crystals into her.

  Yet no matter how many times I pulled it up, her Status Screen showed the same info—a mirror of my own page, right down to the name.

  There was just one person in this world who might be able to help with that, and I figured there was no point delaying any longer.

  “Aerion? I think we need to reach out to Cosmo about Galia. There’s just too much we don’t know.”

  “No,” Aerion said, shaking her head. “There’s nothing to gain by involving Order. We can figure this out on our—”

  “You called?” came an overly jovial, all-too-familiar voice.

  I groaned, not even bothering to turn around.

  As usual, my patron deity had picked the absolute worst time to make his appearance, and Aerion?

  Aerion had already activated [Reave].