As chaos erupted around her, Lady Vee didn’t move. She stood her ground, eyes locked on the massive creature gliding through the air in slow, sweeping arcs—like it was swimming, not flying. It rose above the canopy, then slipped free of the green tangle, flapping wide with a force that bent branches and scattered leaves in a whirlwind.

  It was eerie—damn near hypnotic.

  Others around her had backed into the trees, convinced the launch bird wouldn’t notice them if they stayed still and low. They watched, breath held, as others broke cover and bolted toward safety.

  The bird came and went through the treetops like a broken rhythm. Up, then crashing back down—over and over—like a poor marionette being pulled by strings. Its movements were jagged and strange, not clean or powerful. It looked like it was fighting something invisible, thrashing and twisting in the air, almost weightless.

  Like a bird being drowned mid-flight.

  Its wings flared and kicked, its body flinched in the wind, and fire clung to its feathers—burning like a banner, whipping in the gusts. Each dive looked like death coming down. Each climb felt like it wouldn’t make it back up. And still, it kept going. Desperate. Mad. Covering distance with each flap.

  Lady Vee didn’t blink.

  Glancing around at both exploration teams—tired, sore, and worn out from their seven-hour trek—Lady Vee hesitated. Everyone looked drained, just barely standing, clutching gear like it weighed more than they did. She wondered if staying hidden among the trees was the best call.

  If that thing spotted them… if it saw them as prey—hell, she wasn’t confident the trees would stop it. With it’s size it could easily push it’s way through the trees to some extent.

  What the fuck would they do if it came for them?

  But as she watched the launch bird move in the distance, drawing closer with each flamed flap, something about it started to feel... off.

  The first time they’d seen it, it had been nothing but a massive shadow overhead—ominous and quiet. Now, lit by the flames licking along its body, it bore a resemblance to something out of myth. A phoenix. A flaming beast of legend. Fire and rebirth made flesh.

  Was this what the planet was? Fire and monstrosities? A paradise buried in hell? What else was waiting out there—to see, to discover... to protect?

  A small smirk tugged at her lips as her mind ticked over possible contingencies. Worst-case scenarios, fallback options, what gear they had left—what she could use. She was already calculating.

  But still, something felt off.

  The fire didn’t belong.

  It didn’t look like a natural extension of its body—it was unwanted. It writhed against the heat, and every time it slammed into the treetops and vanished, cracks of branches under the weight of its struggle were Loud, jarring thuds that echoed through the forest and canopy like a drumbeat of something dying slow.

  Lady Vee’s expression hardened. Her thoughts snapped into focus.

  Joe and Ken. They had talked about this.

  The small fires, the smoke. The unnatural burn in its territory?

  Could this be it? The reason the creature came here in the first place? If that was the case, why did it ignore us when we first saw it?

  Her eyes narrowed, tracking its broken flight pattern as it surfaced again from the canopies, flames trailing behind it, burning away at the scattering leaves.

  No, no, no, no, no... That’s all wrong.That thing wasn’t trying to spread the fire—it was trying to put it out.

  A sharp breath rushed from her lungs. She hadn’t even realized how tight her chest had gotten.

  This wasn’t about them.

  For a second, she thought it might’ve been some kind of magical bullshit—and she almost lost her damn mind at the thought. Because she sure as hell missed the tutorial on how to deal with that kind of nonsense.

  Ain’t no way she’s surviving in a world with magic.

  But this... this was different. This could be understood. This felt like something science could explain. Something she could study. She just needed more data, needed to get closer. But as long as that unwanted fire clung to its body, there was no safe way to even begin.

  The unknown was just misunderstood science, she told herself.

  A quiet laugh escaped her lips—light, but charged with anticipation. Her fingers twitched at her side, eyes glinting with dangerous excitement.

  She muttered under her breath, a grin curling as she spoke the words:

  “Dear heavenly Father... once again you have sent me a gift. May the flames burn away the fear to receive more of your creations.”

  But the more she watched, the more unsettling the whole damn picture became.

  That bird wasn’t going to make it out of that forest.

  It should’ve been able to lift and clear the crater walls with ease. But something was wrong.

  The fire. The damage. Something put it in this state. Something out there had enough power to wound it—to drive a creature that size into a chaotic, dying retreat.

  Was it the natives? The same ones they were meant to gain dominion over as Gods blessed ones—if something out here could torch a launch bird, they'd need more than blessings.

  Then her eyes caught the shape—large and awkward—dangling beneath its legs.

  Something was clutched in its talons. Something big.

  It has to be important, she thought. The way the bird clung to it, even while burning alive—it wasn’t just instinct. That was purpose. Which meant whatever attacked it either wanted that thing, wanted it back, or didn’t want it leaving the forest in the first place.

  But which was it?

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Was this a mission?

  A desperate escape?

  A theft?

  Just how intelligent was this launch bird?

  If the object it carried was valuable enough to die for, then whatever lit it on fire wasn’t just defending territory—it was sending a message.

  Because if this creature had a reason, a goal...

  Then this wasn’t some panicked animal fleeing a threat.

  This was a goddamn operation.

  And Lady Vee needed answers.

  “Where is Ken? she asked, and someone replied. “He ran back into the forest as he heard the screech.”

  Her gaze flicked toward the direction the launch bird had vanished into—toward the trembling treetops that barely concealed the dangers lurking beneath.

  If a native beast, this size, this powerful, had been forced into this condition, it meant only one thing—this forest was not kind, nor forgiving. It was wild, untamed, and governed by laws of brutality and survival far beyond their current understanding.

  She smirked again, running a hand through her hair, as a thought crossed her mind. We’ve really been out here worrying about the wrong things, haven’t we?

  Suddenly, a group of nine smaller birds emerged from the surrounding canopy seconds after the launch bird surface again.

  They swarmed it like vultures, diving and striking—tiny, sharp flashes of movement against the flaming sky.

  An ambush. Or maybe just opportunistic scavengers.

  But Lady Vee stared hard.

  “Are these little fuckers the cause of all this?” she muttered, watching the two-toned attackers dive again. “Or are they just taking advantage of something already half-dead?”

  What struck her most wasn’t the attack—it was the lack of retaliation.

  The giant launch bird didn’t fight back. Didn’t climb. Didn’t even shake them off.

  Yes, it was on fire. Sure. But with that size? Those wings? It should have had the advantage.

  And yet... it just kept going.

  She frowned. That didn’t sit right. That meant something.

  Something she hadn’t figured out yet.

  As the battle raged above them, the settlers who hadn’t already bolted for cover stood frozen, wide-eyed.

  Alien creatures—native to this strange, hostile world—were locked in brutal aerial combat, unlike anything they'd ever seen.

  The launch bird flailed through the sky, massive wings beating with desperate power as it tried to shake off the relentless swarm of smaller attackers.

  For the first time, it gained real altitude—clearing distance above the canopy, cutting through the air with violent force. Each flap kicked up shockwaves that sent dirt and leaves spiralling in violent gusts far below.

  But the smaller birds weren’t fazed.

  They thrived in the chaos.

  Darting through wind and flame like they’d trained for this moment, they tore across the launch bird’s flaming body, talons flashing with surgical precision. Each hit was fast, brutal, and deliberate.

  And the fire? The damn fire burning across the beast’s feathers didn’t slow them down one bit.

  Then, with a sudden, violent maneuver, the launch bird pulled off a reverse flap—wings snapping back with a powerful force, throwing itself downward instead of up. It wasn’t falling—it slammed itself into a controlled plummet, turning its own mass into a weapon.

  It dropped like a meteor.

  The sheer force of the dive collided with several of the smaller birds, knocking them into the canopy like pebbles flung off a cliff. The launch bird vanished into the trees with a loud crash, branches cracking under the weight of its body.

  The impact shook the forest. Leaves and dust exploded into the air.

  For a brief moment, it disappeared.

  Then re-emerged, battered and panting, smoke trailing off its scorched feathers. The crash had beaten some of the flames off its body, leaving patches of singed skin and glowing embers.

  For a moment, it looked like it had turned the tide.

  But those small bastards weren’t done.

  Even as the turbulence from the impact rolled outward, the small swarm adjusted. Mid-fall. Mid-crash.

  They rode the updraft.

  Used the violent burst of air—meant to shake them loose—as fuel for a counterattack, rising with even more speed and precision.

  It was surreal.

  A massive creature, strong enough to shatter trees, driven to the edge by birds barely a tenth its size.

  Like watching a fighter jet get picked apart by warhorses.

  The air was thick with the acrid stench of scorched feathers, heat rolling off the chaos above.

  Now high above the spiralling launch bird, the smaller birds regrouped, forming a tight, precise formation—a coordinated assault pattern.

  Then they dropped.

  Like missiles.

  Wings tucked in, they plummeted at terrifying speed, silent but deadly. And just before impact, they snapped their wings wide, redirecting with surgical precision.

  Talons outstretched.

  They slammed into the launch bird’s wings—sinking deep, ripping through sinew and flesh, locking onto bone.

  The massive creature shrieked, eyes wide with alarm as it twisted in the air. Its wings stoking the flames on its body as it convulsed mid-flight, flailing wildly.

  Every frantic flap sent it spiralling further out of control.

  The smaller birds weren’t just clinging anymore—they were disabling it. Deliberate. Calculated.

  Their wings spread wide against the wind, creating drag. Every shift of their bodies tore further into the launch bird’s flesh. They rode it like parasites—tearing, steering, dismantling it one piece at a time.

  The great beast tried everything. Flipping. Rolling. Twisting in the air like a dying hurricane. But it couldn’t shake them. Couldn’t stabilize.

  The open sky above the treetops gave way to an open field, where onlookers watched with scrutiny, and the battle bled into the clearing like a dark omen.

  Even the most battle-hardened settlers—those too proud or numb to flinch—were now watching with silent dread as this creature entered the air space of their safe haven.

  This wasn’t just a skirmish.

  It was a precision takedown.

  A slow-motion assassination.

  Desperate, the launch bird dove hard, angling itself back toward the treetops like a missile gone rogue. With a guttural screech, it flipped upside down—deliberately—dragging its own freshly ignited flaming body through the canopy.

  Branches snapped like bones beneath its weight. Leaves exploded into flame as fire spread from its scorched feathers, igniting the green forest around it in a blazing streak.

  Two of the smaller birds finally lost their grip, torn loose by the violent impact. They vanished into the dense foliage below, swallowed by smoke and leaves.

  But the others held on.

  Unrelenting. Merciless.

  They rode the plunge like it was part of the plan.

  Screeches filled the sky—an eerie, overlapping chorus of pain and fury.

  The settlers watched from the ground, caught between horror and awe. Some stood frozen, mouths agape. Others dropped to one knee, weapons forgotten, eyes tracking the chaos above like it was a goddamn prophecy.

  The massive form of the launch bird, wings tattered and smoking, tore through the sky like a dying storm—while the smaller birds darted around it with surgical violence.

  It was a brutal dance of survival.

  Feathers spiralled through the air, glowing like ash. Embers and smouldering debris rained down across the clearing, each burning piece a warning of what was dying above them.

  The launch bird had strength—raw, overwhelming strength.

  But these smaller creatures?

  They were precision.

  They knew every weakness. Every joint. Every exposed tendon.

  And they were taking it apart one piece at a time.

  Then, the shift happened.

  From below, the birds that had been assumed down—done for, knocked out in the crash—rose again.

  One by one, they emerged from the canopy, smoke clinging to their wings, silent and relentless.

  Soon, all nine were back.

  The full swarm.

  They regrouped mid-air, circling once like vultures claiming a kill—then they struck again.

  But this time, the tactic changed.

  They no longer focused on just the wings.

  Now, they went for the face, the legs, the soft spots—the places that hurt, the ones that would break a body faster than any fall.

  At one brutal moment, every single bird latched on at once.

  Talons sank deep.

  Blood mixed with fire.

  Their wings spread wide, dragging against the air—creating resistance that tore at the beast’s control. Lift faltered. Turns slowed. Each flap became a brutal, losing struggle.

  Fire still raged across its spine, smoke trailing behind like a war banner—violent, defiant.

  And still...

  It held altitude.

  It fought.

  Every moment looked like its last. Every movement carried the weight of something refusing to die until the job was done.

  Out of nowhere, three of the birds broke formation.

  Without warning, they stretched their wings wide and peeled away from the frenzy.

  They hovered for a heartbeat, just outside the chaos—watching.

  Calculating.

  Then, with terrifying precision once again, they folded their wings and dived.

  But they weren’t going for the launch bird.

  They were aiming for their own.

  Talons extended. Eyes locked.

  Not a mistake.

  The attack was swift—surgical. Brutal.

  The clinging birds barely had time to react before the strikes landed.

  Bodies jerked—spines twisting, wings flailing in confusion.

  A split second of stillness.

  And then—

  Fire.

  As if they had been set ablaze by an unseen force.

  The six birds—still latched onto the launch bird like parasites—burst into flame. Not gradually. Not with warning. One moment they were there, tearing into flesh. The next, they were fire.

  As if someone had flipped a hidden switch—boom.

  Flames erupted with terrifying force, washing over the launch bird’s back like a hell-born tidal wave. The sky split open in smoke and light, a shockwave ripping feathers, branches, and breath from the lungs of those watching below.

  Green. Yellow. Brown. A storm of burning feathers rained down.

  And through that chaos, through the fire and smoke and screaming wind, something emerged.

  The settlers looked up—and froze.

  The launch bird was still airborne, barely. But it didn’t look like a beast anymore.

  It looked like a goddamn new reborn phoenix

  The flames intensity warped the surrounding air as each flap of its wings showered the sky with flaming droplets of fire.

  The launch bird was a winged inferno, wings glowing red-hot, trailing smoke like a comet.

  Its cry—raw, broken, furious—ripped across the sky, so loud and sharp it made some duck in fear, others cried out, one man drop to his knees like it pierced his soul, as if this was the beginning of the end.

  And then it dived.

  Not graceful. Not planned. It threw itself downward in a flaming plunge, crashing towards the settlement like it wanted the earth to swallow it—anything to kill the fire that was eating it alive.

  The launch bird was barely holding itself together.

  High above, the three remaining birds watched.

  They’d flared their wings during the explosion, catching the blast like a gust, letting it throw them back—but never far. Never distracted.

  They kept their eyes on the launch bird. Watching. Waiting.

  Then, without hesitation, they dove once again at the seemingly falling launch bird.

  Something heavy. Something big.

  From the launch bird’s claws, a massive object fell—a knotted, root-covered mass.

  It spiralled as it dropped, twisting violently through the smoke-filled air, tumbling toward the field below.

  The bird tried to hold on, even shifted mid-glide—but it was done.

  Its body dipped lower, wings faltering, no longer strong enough to climb.

  The object and the launch bird fell together—but now their distance grew.

  Drifting apart. One pulled by gravity.

  The other by defeat.