In this world, the Dragon and Phoenix clans stood above all other mystical kingdoms. Their power was unmatched. Tigers, Bears, Wolves, and others once dared to rise against the Dragons to reclaim their lands—but they were swiftly broken. Crushed under dragon claws and scorched skies, the lesser clans turned to the only force they feared more than the Dragons: the Phoenix.
But the Phoenix Clan did not meddle. They were small—smaller than even the Wolves—but to cross them was to court extinction. Unlike brute kingdoms that drew strength from numbers, the Phoenix drew theirs from within.
Phoenix aura, passed through blood and flame, exists in two kinds. The first: the Healer's Flame—gentle, rare, and nearly extinct. It was said to mend broken limbs, dying forests, and even fractured souls. The second: Fireborne Wrath. It coursed through most Phoenix descendants—raw, fierce, and trainable into a weapon so powerful it could burn down a kingdom.
So when the broken clans begged the Phoenix to help subdue the Dragons and rebuild the shattered lands, they expected fire. But Roan Fintan, the Phoenix King, refused. He had retired from war, having once been the god of Fire and War. His fire had ended battles with a scream and a blaze. Roan had once redrawn the map of the world with flame. But peace breeds greed.
When envious kings tried to poison him and raze the Phoenix sanctuary, Roan rose one final time. He transformed into his true form—an ancient Phoenix wreathed in flame—and exploded in the sky. His body became fire, his fury ash. Generals burned where they stood. The rest fled. Peace, for now, returned.
Eliana, his daughter, wept as the fire consumed him. Roan left her with a single wish—to marry his most trusted disciple, Felix, the only man who had ever stood beside him in fire and lived. She honored that wish without question.
But far from fire, in the northern reaches of the Dragon's Lair, a different omen stirred.
A child was born—not under flame, but deep within ice. The Dragon King's second son emerged in silence, his first breath fogging the frost-bound air of the ancient glacier cave where no heir had ever been born.
Curled behind him, coiled in dreamless slumber, was a dragon none had seen in a thousand years. Pale as bone. Quiet as death.
An Ice Dragon.
And it was still sleeping.
Soon after, a daughter was born in the Phoenix Clan.
Hanara Enya Fintan-Solaris came into the world on a day the sun refused to hide. The skies glowed with gold. She did not cry. Instead, she reached out—not for her mother's hand, but toward the light. As if she remembered it.
As if it remembered her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 🪶 🔥❄️ 🐉 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Hana...?" Eliana whispered. Hanara's ruby-red eyes shimmered—and then, before Eliana could take another breath, they turned green. Eliana froze. Her words caught in her throat. Felix stood still, stunned.
Across the room, the phoenixes—Yelenis, radiant in gold and scarlet, and Worish, dark-plumed and fierce—locked eyes with the newborn. Hanara turned to them. And screamed.
A piercing, soul-deep cry filled the chamber. Eliana flinched, quickly reaching for her.
"Shhh, shhh, it's okay—it's okay—Hana, please..."
"Is she alright?" Felix asked, concern etched in every word.
"She won't stop crying!" Eliana's hands trembled as she held Hanara close. "Something's wrong—"
"Give her to me." Felix gently took the baby into his arms. She was red from head to toe, her tiny body slick with sweat. Her cries only grew more desperate. Felix pressed his hand to her forehead. His jaw tightened.
"She's burning up. A high fever." He turned sharply to the door. "Call the Priest—now. Tell him it's urgent."
"Your Majesty..." Yelenis stepped forward. "May I?"
Felix glanced at the female phoenix, hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."
Yelenis moved to Hanara and peered into her eyes. Her own gleamed with a strange light as she reached into Hanara's aura. She staggered back slightly.
"What is it?" Eliana asked tightly. "What's happening?"
Worish joined Yelenis, his dark feathers rustling as he lowered his head near the child.
"It seems she has finally been born," Worish said.
"She? Who?" Eliana asked, chest rising and falling quickly.
"The Saintess of Fire," Yelenis replied softly. "Or... perhaps even a goddess."
Felix frowned. "What are you saying?"
"She is... different. Beyond rare," Yelenis continued. "Your daughter carries two divine auras."
Eliana stared at her. "Two?"
"The healing aura... and the fire. The purest form of destruction and rebirth."
Felix's brow furrowed. "And that means what?"
Worish answered, low and grave, "It means she is dangerous. More than anyone alive. At this age, her body can't contain such power. She's burning from the inside."
Eliana clutched her hands to her chest. "You're saying—she could—?"
"She could lose control," Yelenis said. "If her spirit fractures, she could end the world."
Felix stepped forward, holding Hanara tighter. "Are you calling my daughter a monster?"
"No," Yelenis said gently. "We're telling you she has a choice. And it won't be an easy one. Her path will either break her... or crown her. She will rise like a phoenix—or she will become the fire that ends us all."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 🪶 🔥 Princess, Don't Waver ❄️ 🐉 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~