Sheut, on the other hand, was wrapped up in his own thoughts, but for a completely different reason. He was in a state of profound awe. This was the first time he had ever seen firebirds other than in a picture book. When he was a young boy, his mother used to read to him legends about Phoenixes and lesser phoenixes. The memory was so vivid that it almost felt like he was a child again, listening to his mother's soothing voice.
Queen Nandi, with a final, deliberate cough, snapped the two out of their engrossing thoughts. She first turned to Adah, her voice gentle and concerned. "Adah, what was on your mind? You seem so… distant."
Adah's eyes met the Queen's, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I'm not exactly sure how to explain it," she began, her voice soft and hesitant. "But for a moment, during the whole experience, I felt this… distant connection. It was a resonance, a feeling more than a thought." She paused, trying to find the right words to articulate the profound, ancient echo she had felt. "It was a deep and ancient sorrow, like something that had been trapped for millennia, followed by this immense surge of defiant, unbridled fury. It was so powerful that it completely eclipsed the joy and excitement of the battle and the beautiful light show."
Queen Nandi stayed quiet for a moment, her mind processing Adah's description. The Queen had seen and heard many things in her life, but a feeling of distant, ancient sorrow was a new one. She didn't believe it was malicious, but it was certainly something to investigate.
"Can you feel that connection now?" she asked, her voice soft and encouraging. "And if you can, try to focus on it. I don't believe it's malicious. It feels more... like a call for help. Perhaps it is another of those mythical creatures, like the lesser phoenix Sheut mentioned. We have to help them."
Lowering her head, Adah said with disappointment that she could no longer feel the connection. "I am sure it needed help," she said, her voice a soft murmur, "but this was a being of cosmic proportions. How could we possibly help it?"
A brief silence fell over the carriage. Adah, still trying to process everything that had happened, turned to Sheut. "What exactly is a Phoenix?" she asked, her voice laced with genuine curiosity. "We have stories of Firebirds, but the way you said 'Phoenix,' it sounded different, more... ancient."
Sheut turned to the rest of the carriage, only to find wanting eyes gazing back at him. He thought to himself, "You have Firebirds but you don't know what a Phoenix is?" The realization hit him with a profound sense of sadness. The erasure of the past in this world was much, much deeper than he had ever imagined.
He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "My mother used to tell me stories about them." He began, his voice soft, almost reverent. "From what i can recall. A Phoenix is not merely a bird of fire. They are beings of pure light and unblemished righteousness, whose feathers shimmer with the brilliance of a thousand suns and pulse with the essence of truth and compassion. Each beat of their wings radiated a warmth that nourished the innocent and purified the tainted, bringing an undeniable sense of hope to every corner of the world."
"Their lives were not measured in years, but in cycles of benevolent service. When they reached the end of their cycle, they would not die in sorrow or fear, but in a blaze of glory that mirrored their unwavering commitment to purity and righteousness. From the ashes, a new Phoenix would rise, not simply a continuation, but a fresh embodiment of the same untainted spirit."
He paused, looking directly at Adah. "They were the very embodiment of the unwavering light that resides within us all, waiting to be rekindled in the face of adversity and guided by the eternal flame of goodness. A Phoenix is what a Firebird can only ever hope to be. A true master of the cycle of creation and renewal. It is a creature of pure light that is, in a way, a perfect balance of light and darkness, of life and death. The Firebirds you have are merely their descendants, a diluted echo of that ancient, majestic power. I believe the reason y'all didn't know what a Phoenix was, is because their story was erased. It was another casualty of the Great War, another piece of history lost to chaos."
He went on to explain that his people actually believed the phoenix to be a mythical being, along with the firebirds, until today. No one had ever seen them, no matter what planets they visited. Their existence was relegated to the status of a beautiful but impossible legend, a story told to hanyou children to teach them about balance and renewal. The very idea that they were real, was mind blowing. The fact that the firebirds had shown up, a physical, tangible manifestation of the very legends his people thought were just stories, meant that the laws of the universe were not as rigid as they had once believed. It was a terrifying and exhilarating thought all at once.
Sheut looked at Adah, a gentle, almost wistful smile on his face. He leaned back in his seat, the memories of his mother's voice and the quiet moments they shared flooding his mind. The carriage went silent, the soft hum of the mana crystals the only sound as he began to speak.
"My mother told me a lot of stories, but the ones about the Phoenix were always my favorite," he began, his voice low and rich with the cadence of an ancient storyteller. "She said they were demons of unknown origins, beings that transcended the simple concepts of light and darkness. Their feathers shimmered not just with light, but with the very essence of truth and compassion. They were healers, my mother would say, but not in the way you know it. They didn't just mend a wound; they mended the spirit."
He paused, his gaze seeming to drift to a place far beyond the carriage walls. "The legends say that when a Phoenix sensed a world was consumed by despair, it would descend from the heavens. Its presence alone would stir hope in the hearts of the innocent. But its true purpose was to face the source of the despair, to confront the deepest corruption, and to burn it away not with fire, but with a cleansing inferno."
"My mother would describe the inferno not as a destructive force, but as a transformative one. It would consume the despair and taint, leaving behind the fertile ground for new beginnings. The Phoenix would then build a nest of sacred wood and fragrant herbs, and in a blaze of glory, it would ignite itself, becoming a beacon of transformative fire. From the ashes, a new Phoenix would rise, a fresh embodiment of the same untainted spirit, inheriting the wisdom and unwavering principles of its predecessor. It was a promise, a symbol that even in the face of despair, righteousness would always triumph, and even from the ashes of loss, new hope could always rise. The Phoenixes were more than just creatures of legend; they were the very embodiment of the unwavering light that resides within us all, waiting to be rekindled in the face of adversity and guided by the eternal flame of goodness."
The carriage remained silent after he finished, the story hanging in the air like a profound truth. Adah was mesmerized, her eyes fixed on Sheut. Sheut's story not only explained what a Phoenix was, but it also painted a picture of a world far richer and more complex than they had ever imagined. It was a world where hope was a tangible force, and a beautiful symbol of change.